LET'S THROW UP THE SPONGE YET, OLD MAN! LET'S
GIVE THE DEAD 'UNS A TURN--LET'S HAVE A SHY AT THACKERAY, BROWNING,
GEORGE ELIOT, OR, BETTER STILL, LET'S BESPATTER GENERAL GORDON AND
CARDINAL NEWMAN A BIT,--_THAT_ OUGHT TO FETCH 'EM A FEW, AND BRING US
INTO NOTICE!"]

* * * * *

WHAT HOE! RAIKES!--When King RICHARD--no, beg his pardon, Mr. RICHARD
KING--says, as quoted in the _Times_, "That he can only assume that
Mr. RAIKES purposely availed himself of a technicality to cover a
statement which was a palpable _suggestio falsi_," he throws something
unpleasant into the teeth of RAIKES. It is as well to remember that
rakes have teeth.

* * * * *

"LATINE DOCTUS."--A Cantab, neither a first-rate sailor nor a
first-class classic, arrived at Calais after a rough passage, looking,
as his friend, who met him on the _quai_, observed, "so changed he
would hardly have known him." "That's it," replied the staggering
graduate, "_quantum mutatus ab billow!_" Oh! he must have been bad!

* * * * *

THE SONG THAT BROKE MY HEART.

I paused in a crowded street,
I only desired to ride--
Only to wait for a Hammersmith 'bus
With room for myself outside;
When I caught the nastiest tune
My ear had ever heard,
And asked the Police to take it away,
But never a man of them stirred.

So the singer still sang on;
She would not, would not go;
She sang a song of the year before last
That struck me as rather low.
She followed with one that was high,
That made the tear-drops start,
That was "_Hi-tiddly-i-ti! Hi!-ti!-hi!_"
The song that broke my heart!

* * * * *

WHAT is A "DEMOGRAPHER"?--Those Londoners who ask this question will
have already obtained a practical answer, as, this week, London
is full of Demographers, to whom _Mr. Punch_, Grand Master of all
Demographers (or "writers for the people"), gives a hearty welcome.
All hail to "The New Demogracy!"

* * * * *

'ARRY ON A 'OUSE-BOAT.

[Illustration]

Dear CHARLIE,--It's 'ot, and no error! Summer on us, at last, with a
bust;
Ninety odd in the shade as I write, I've a 'ed, and a thunderin'
thust.
Can't go on the trot at this tempryture, though I'm on 'oliday
still;
So I'll pull out my _eskrytor_, CHARLIE, and give you a touch of my