ll Portuguese,
With a gun and a swagger? Pooh! Fiddle-de-dee!

We've put up too long with your pranks, my fine fellow,
Because of your size, upon which you presume.
Oh, it's no use to twirl your moustache and look yellow!
Mean having that gal, howsoever you fume.
You'd better behave yourself, boy, or no doubt
Before very long we shall clean you right out.

Look at home, keep your own ways a little bit clearer,
And don't go a-blocking up other folks' roads.
Eh? _You_ warn me off her? _I_ mustn't come nearer?
Ha, ha! My good-nature your impudence goads.
Clear out, whilst you're safe, you young shrimp! Don't be rash!
For I shan't let _you_ come between me and my Mash!

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE VICTORY ROAD-CAR.

TO PLY TO AND FROM THE NAVAL EXHIBITION.]

* * * * *

[Illustration]

A LAST WORD ON THE WHAT-YOU-MAY-CAL-DERON PICTURE.--It isn't often
that one of "the inferior clergy," represented by a Clarke in orders,
is pitted against an "Abbott," as recently happened in the discussion
about Mr. CALDERON's picture of "_St. Elizabeth's Heroic Act of
Renunciation_." In this instance the Clarke got the better of the
Abbott, and the others, including Professor HUXLEY, who is always
ready to rush in and invite somebody to tread on the tail of his coat,
were nowhere. The _Times_ issues its _fiat_, concluding the arguments
on both sides--"The _Times_ has spoken, _causa finita est_"--and the
picture will remain one of the chief attractions in the Royal Academy
Exhibition until such time as it ascends to the undisturbed Oilysium
of The Happily Immortals. In the meantime, being on the line, Mr.
CALDERON will be perfectly satisfied if his picture be generally
recognised as "_St. Elisabeth of Well-Hung-ary_."

* * * * *

RECIPE.

(_FOR A SPEECH IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS ON THE PROPOSED ADJOURNMENT FOR
THE DERBY_.)

Take a handful of jokelets and beat them up small,
In sophistical fudge, with no logic at all;
Then pepper the mixture with snigger and jeer;
Add insolent "sauce," and a _soupcon_ of sneer;
Shred stale sentiment fine, just as much as you want,
And thicken with cynical clap-trap and cant,
_Plus_ oil--of that species which "smells of the lamp"--
Then lighten with squibs, which, of course, should be damp;
Serve up, with the air of a true _Cordon Bleu_,
And you'