And the end, O Tsar, is--where?--the purpose--what?
The Afghan, Tartar, Turk feel your advancing,
The Persian and the Mongol hear your tread,
And an eager watchful eye is eastward glancing
Where the Lion lifts his head.

And your children, "Little Father"? They are lying
In their thousands at your threshold, waiting death.
Gold you gather whilst your foodless thralls are dying!
Is appeal, oh Great White Tsar, but wasted breath?
On armaments aggressive are you spending
What might solace the "black people" midst their dead?
Of the millions the effusive Frank is lending
Is there _nothing_ left for bread?

* * * * *

BOUILLABAISSE.

[There has been some correspondence lately about
Bouillabaisse, and a writer in the _Evening News_ (who
misquotes THACKERAY) actually gives a recipe without oil!]

Our THACKERAY in ancient days,
Wrote of a very famous dish,
And said in stanzas in its praise,
'Twas made of several kinds of fish.
A savoury stew it is indeed,
And he's "in comfortable case"
Who finds before him at his need
A smoking dish of Bouillabaisse.

And now folks laud that dish again,
And o'er it raise a pretty coil,
While one rash man we see with pain,
Would dare to make it minus oil.
Oh! shade of TERRE, you no doubt
Would make once more the "droll grimace,"
At such a savage, who left out
The olive oil, in Bouillabaisse.

* * * * *

"THOUGHT-WAVES." (_By an Un-Esoteric._)--The Theosophists talk mistily
about "the concentration of mind-force on a thought-wave"--which seems
only another way of saying that such minds are, at the time, "quite at
sea."

* * * * *

[Illustration: "WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?"

STARVING RUSSIAN PEASANT. "IS NONE OF THAT FOR _ME_, 'LITTLE
FATHER'?"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT.

SIR W.V. HARCOURT,

_THE_ "ODD FELLOW" OUT.]

* * * * *

MONEY MAKES THE MAN.

(_A Fragment from a Romance dedicated by Mr. Punch to Mr.
Diggle._)

"It is entirely your own fault," said the intruder, as he put another
silver tea-pot in his bag.

"I don't see that at all," replied the master of the house, moving
uneasily in his chair.

"Well, I have not time to argue with you," returned the other, as he
held up an