shines in his portraiture of political life, and not a senator,
hereditary or accidental, spiritual or temporal, escapes his eye. The
next time LORD NAAS has to hunt for MR. KEOGH, he may be spared the
scandal of airing himself eleven times, in vain, upon the mosaics of the
Reform Club; and the next time the nation is looking out for a Premier,
it need not, for lack of an address, select LORD ABERDEEN instead of
_Mr. Punch_. The voluble actuary of the assurance office, the
drab-breeched and white-haired banker, the smart stockbroker and the
smarting stockjobber, the parchment-visaged chamber-counsel, and the
bold-eyed champion at the Old Bailey, the dowager of Mayfair, the
guardsman of the club, the virtuous and self-denying author in his
ANDREW MARVEL chambers, the post-office clerk, and all the men of
letters (ha! ha!) of St. Martin's-le-Grand, the sour bachelor of the
Albany, and the gentle Benedick of St. John's Wood, and the other
myriads who help to make London, from HER GRACIOUS MAJESTY down to--no,
_Punch_ is merciful--are all designated here. In short, inapplicable as
is the word to the biggest as well as the best book of our acquaintance,
the Post Office Directory not only contains all that we want to know,
but precise information as to at least a couple of millions of people
whom--except as readers, in which capacity they exist already--we
sincerely hope that we never shall know.

The following extract gives a good idea of the author's style:--

"Smith John, Hairdresser, 24, Skinner Street, Clerkenwell.
Smith John, Hide and Skin Salesman, Bermondsey Skin Market.
Smith John, Lamp Glass Warehouse, 25, Stonecutter Street.
Smith John, Leatherseller, 31, Hanover Place, Clapham Road.
Smith John, Livery Stables and Van Proprietor, 20, Little Portland
Street.
Smith John, Lodging House, 41, Devonshire Street, Queen Square.
Smith John, _Luke's Head_, P. H. 25, Mercer Street, Long Acre.
Smith John, Oilman, 8, Ward's Place, Hoxton Old Town."

[Illustration]

* * * * *

REFORM IN THE CITY.

Already, reform has been felt in Guildhall. At the LORD MAYOR'S state
dinner, the eighty waiters employed to change plates and pour out for
the Corporation had, every one of them, a whole half-pint of beer! This
allowance was pre-arranged by way of test, and for future guidance. One
Alderman is worth, at least, four waiters. Hence, at all future
banquets, eve