* * * * *

TREMENDOUS EFFECTS OF A KISS.

NICHOLAS and FRANCIS JOSEPH have met at Olmuetz; met and affectionately
fraternised. For we are told that "loud applause followed from the
spectators as the Emperors publicly _kissed_ each other: and then the
Court dinner followed, the two Emperors spending the evening together in
undisturbed _privacy_." But this scene (_see last week's Punch_) our
artist has already immortalised; he having sketched the Imperial
couple--even as in an old play--"from behind the arras." The royal
salute has been embalmed in the lines of the Austrian Poet Laureat,
DOCTOR VON WATTZ:--

"Snakes in their little nests agree,
And 'tis a pretty sight,
When the Emperors of the like kid-ney,
Do kiss left cheek and right."

But other, and deeper effects resulted from that Imperial smack! And
such a smack! As though a red-hot poker should have kissed a barrel of
gunpowder. For as cheeks were kissed--

Poland writhed and groaned afresh!--

Hungary clenched her red right hand, and renewed her silent vow!--

Turkey, with a flourish of the sabre, set her teeth, and cried "_Allah!
Bismallah!_"

Naples--through KING BOMBA--cried "_Ancora_; kiss again!"

And ABERDEEN, folding pacific hands, declared, "it was a sweet
sight--unco' sweet--to see sick mighty Potentates in sick _awmeety_."

_Punch_--meeting his friend BARON SHEKELS at the COUNTESS OF
POLKHERLEGSOFF--asked the philanthropic Hebrew _his_ private opinion of
that salute. The Baron pathetically observed "it was a sight worth a
Jew's eye." And so it was; even if the Jew had been JUDAS.

* * * * *

A JOG FOR BIRMINGHAM GAOL.

A convict, perhaps, deserves to have his head shaved; but it does not
follow that his treatment should be altogether barbarous.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT.

_Whipper._ "WELL, I WEAR MINE BECAUSE IT SAVES TROUBLE, AND IS SO VERY
'EALTHY."

_Snapper._ "HAH. WELL THERE AINT NO 'UMBUG ABOUT ME; I WEAR MINE BECAUSE
THEY LOOKS 'ANSOM, AND GOES DOWN WITH THE GALS."]

* * * * *

GRAND SCENA FROM OBERON.

_Enter from a Hotel,_ SIR HUON, _without his Coat_.

RECITATIVE.

Yes, even clothes the pay must yield,
No carpet bag have I;
The Paper be my battle field--
I'm fleeced! my battle cry.

AIR.

O, 'tis a monstrous sight to see
The charge of t