le. Let the ladies take heart. Men have been censured
for their 'much speaking' at least as frequently as women. Prior
declared of one Lysander that he ought to possess the art of talk, if he
did not, for he practised 'full fourteen hours in four-and-twenty.' And
we owe to a more recent writer this paraphrase of an epigram by
Macentinus:

'Black locks hath Gabriel, beard that's white--
The reason, sir, is plain:
Gabriel works hard from morn till night,
More with his jaw than brain.'

It is well that satire should go that way for a change. All the talking
is not done by women or by Parliament. There is, at times, as much
chatter in the smoking-room as in the boudoir and the Senate. Tongues,
as well as beards, 'wag all,' when we are 'merry in hall.'

PEERS AND POETRY.

The succession of the Hon. J. Leicester Warren to the barony of De
Tabley was something more than a change in the _personnel_ of the House
of Lords; it amounted to a conspicuous addition to the Chamber's
intellectual power, and especially to the number of its poetic votaries.
The author of 'Philoctetes' and 'Orestes,' of 'Rehearsals' and
'Searching the Net,' is no mere versifier. He has felt the influence of
the old Greek dramatists, and apparently also that of Mr. Swinburne;
but, for all that, his work has undoubted individuality, as well as
solid interest.

It must be admitted that the House of Lords does not at this moment
contain many hereditary peers who are also poets. Lord Tennyson, of
course, is an ennobled commoner, and the Bishop of Derry (Dr.
Alexander), who has written so much excellent verse, both in the
thoughtful and in the imaginative vein, is no longer one of the
spiritual lords. But there is Lord Lytton, there is Lord Southesk, and
there is Lord Rosslyn; and by all of these Lord de Tabley will be
welcomed as a brother in the literary art. What Lord Lytton has done in
poetry, need scarcely be recapitulated. He would be remembered as 'Owen
Meredith' if, since his accession to the peerage, he had not made a new
reputation as the author of 'Fables in Song,' 'Glenaveril,' and other
performances. As 'Owen Meredith' he was, no doubt, more fresh and
spontaneous than he has ever been as Lord Lytton; but his poetic work,
as a whole, is of good quality, and some of it will find its way down
the stream of time. Equally certain may we be that the 'Jonas Fisher' of
Lord Southesk, with its unquestionable vigour, both of satire