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triumph the commercial principle could achieve, to triumph over the University of Hoxford.

1st Pass. And that is the object to which you are going to sacrifice the interests of your shareholders! If they let you, I can only say that they are as great fools as you are

2nd Pass. What, Sir? (Train stops.) 1st Pass. (shouting in his face). Snobs!

[Opens door and exit, leaving Great Western Railway Director livid and speechless with rage.

THE BISHOP AND THE ELEPHANT.

Elephant. I am in residence, my dear Lord; and I assure you that I am very happy to return to my allegiance to the QUEEN. Bishop. To return? I imagined that you were French. Elephant. As times go, I ought to reply that you do me honour. But I am a native of Her Majesty's Asiatic dominions, where several exemplary wives mourn my European captivity.

Bishop. Let us hope that they are comforted.

Elephant. It is not impossible. But the subject is unpleasant. As you see the Charivari you will have observed that I am depicted as arriving in England, and indignantly pitching Albion and the British Liontypes of a proffered naturalisation-to the winds. Another instance of Gallic contempt for facts, as I need no such ceremony.

Bishop. Our French friends have much esprit, but they are, it must

IMAGINARY CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE RIGHT REV. THE BISHOP OF be owned, horribly ignorant. They believe that the Lords, in England,

OD, AND THE NEW ELEPHANT FROM PARIS.

The Zoological Gardens. Sunday Afternoon.

LEPHANT. I salute you, my Lord. (He trumpets.)

Bishop (surprised, but with admirable self possession). Iam sure you are very kind. I hope you are very well. Quite Siamese weather. Elephant. Your Lordship's ready recollection and general information are proverbial, and though I don't come from Siam, I am equally flattered. Bishop. Don't say flattered, my dear -(was going to say beast, but improves his phrase) my dear fellow creature, because Bishops never flatter. I remember now, you are the new elephant from the Jardin des

Plantes, in Paris, come to ornament our beautiful gardens, and to offer another illustration of the wisdom of creation.

Elephant. Rem acu tetigisti, my Lord.

Bishop. Which, bearing in mind the fate of a certain tailor in the natural history books, I will certainly not do to your trunk.

Elephant. You are celebrated as one of the best conversationists in England, my dear Lord, and I am sure that you deserve your reputation. But confess, now

Bishop. Confession-though I don't exactly condemn-you understand-is not exactly what I should-eh?

Elephant. Nobody better understands what the Poet Laureate so admirably calls the Falsehood of Extremes than your Lordship. Whether there is never a falsehood in the middle, too, is not now the question. I was only going to say, confess that you were astonished at bearing me speak.

Bishop. Respectable elephant, I am astonished at nothing. I have never been astonished once, since the late LORD CHANCELLOR (whose talents, however, I am the first to applaud) became the head of the Christian Young Men's Society.

Elephant. Why, you know what Bethel means in Hebrew ? Bishop. Please don't talk Hebrew. DR. COLENSO (a most ingenious, and I am sure well-meaning man, however) has given me a distaste for that tongue.

Elephant. He has left in the Verulam for Natal, and I am sure that your Lordship's best wishes fan his sails-or heat his boiler if the vessel is a steamer.

Bishop. It must be a steamer, my dear fellow-creature; he would be unhappy without hot water. But to revert: I really should have been surprised at your flow of language, had I not read in the Charivari that you have been holding a levée on your departure from Paris, and have been very witty upon the poor Parisians.

Elephant." Poor victory, to conquer them," if I might cite an oratorio. Bishop. To me, oh, yes. I am not the BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER, who thinks it wicked to sing HANDEL in a cathedral.

Elephant. What would WARBURTON, Bishop of Gloucester, have said to such twaddle?

Bishop. Well, he wrote about MOSES, but did not precisely imitate, his meekness; and I fear might have used even stronger language than yours. And you have come to reside permanently with us?

speak from a tribune, and that MR. GLADSTONE, whose name they spell "GLALDSTANES," is the Lord Chancellor. However, we are close allies now, and we must avoid facere ex elephanto muscam, if you will forgive the allusion.

Elephant. Nothing said in Latin can be rude, my Lord. I believe that is a dogma in the freemasonry of the educated.

Bishop. Charmingly put; I am delighted to have conversed with you. May I ask whether you are any descendant from the elephant mentioned in GAY's Fables, to whom an enterprising publisher of the day offered a handsome sum to write something against orthodoxy? Elephant. I regret to say that I am.

Bishop. Why regret that you boast so accomplished an ancestor? Elephant. The fact is, that the golden age of authorship had not come, nor was a publisher, as now, Astrea incarnate. My relative was tempted by the bookseller, was cheated, and was-I blush to say it,reduced in old age to carry a monkey about at fairs.

Bishop. Be comforted, for I will quote PALEY to you.
Elephant. An odd quarter to go for comfort.

Bishop. Nay, for even the frigid Archdeacon holds nothing to be contemptible that ministers to the harmless gratification of many.

Elephant. An elephant, my Lord, is a gentleman, and not a mountebank. Had my ancestor resisted temptation and returned to India, he might have become executioner at the court of one of the native princes, and have trampled criminals to death on state holidays. Bishop. In two senses a truncator.

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Elephant. Admirable, my Lord.

Bishop. I do not approve the ambition you manifest, but I sincerely sympathise with you in any humiliation you feel.

Elephant. It is delightful, but not surprising, that a WILBERFORCE should sympathise with his black fellow-creatures. Talking of that, my Lord, can it be that the Yankees talk of giving votes to the niggers ? Surely that must be what we call in Paris a canard.

Bishop. I fear that the news does not come from America by the Canard line.

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Elephant. But this is inconceivable.

Bishop. Well-I don't know. The negroes are to have their freedom, and as you know better than I do, the French for freedom is franchise. Elephant. My dear Lord, give me a better argument than a jest. Bishop. I would if I could, but in this case I don't know one. Elephant. A black elector neutralising a white one!

Bishop. You have white balls and black ones at elections-let us be symmetrical whatever we are.

Elephant. I tell you what, my Lord-you must get me-me-put on the register for this borough.

Bishop. Nothing would give me greater joy and delight, but Peers are forbidden to meddle with elections. And then really-you are the descendant of a long line of forest kings-and to elect MR. TOM CHAMBERS and MR. HARVEY LEWIS is a glorious thing, no doubt, and they are excellent representatives-but I thinkElephant. But I go upon principle.

Bishop. Usually a mistake in this world.

Elephant. What SAMBO may become, in three generations, with training, I don't say, but at present my education is in advance of his. A woolly-haired

Bishop. Pardon me, the allusion is beneath you. To fasten on his hair reminds me that DR. JOHNSON, in Rejected Addresses, calls you the half-reasoning parent of combs.

Elephant. Your reproof is gentle and just, as a Bishop's should be, and you have learned mildness in practising your rebukes of WESTBURY. I retract the wool, my own hair is not strictly hyacinthine, but I insist upon it that at present the nigger is not better qualified for legislation than I am.

Bishop. Say negro, my son, sarcasm loses nothing by polish. I answer you that we are English subjects, and the business is none of ours. Elephant. Diable!

Bishop (gravely). Elephants are famed for memory-you forget even yourself. Elephant. What did I say?

Bishop (smiling). Never mind. I forget that in India, whence you come, there are worshippers of the-individual you named. As there are none in Christendom, as you must be sure from reading the journals, don't make the mistake again.

Elephant. I am schooled. But, my dear Lord, what do you mean by saying that the question of negro suffrage does not concern England? Bishop. Well, I know nothing about the next Reform Bill, except that I shall vote against it, but what have the blacks to do with it? Elephant. And Bishops are statesmen, and are allowed to interfere in a nation's concerns!

Bishop. Elephant, I hope you are not a Radical. Not that the intelligent party so named has not

Elephant. Never mind politeness, stick to politics. Do you mean that if the utterly ignorant blacks, conspiring to elect men like themselves, should obtain an influence in American politics, it would be no concern of foreign nations?

OUT OF SEASON.

Bishop. Let us hope that nothing of the kind will occur.
Elephant. Those who live on hope die fasting, says the proverb.
Besides, statesmen have no right to hope. Pandora's box is no
despatch box.

Bishop. My dear fellow-creature, culpa mea! In the pleasure of your conversation I had quite forgotten that this is Sunday afternoon, and that we are discussing matters of a purely secular character. And really (looks at watch) it is half-past five-I must get back to Pall Mall, as I wish my servants, or at least some of them, to attend church. Can I say or do anything for you here?

Elephant. Thanks, nothing. DR. SCLATER's supervision leaves me nothing to desire, except freedom.

Bishop. And if that had been good for you, believe me, my dear friend, it would have been accorded. Good bye, good bye, and au revoir. Elephant. Sans adieu. Emancipate the Elephant.

FACT IS, FITZROBBINS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE MOORS, AND BRAGGLES HAS GIVEN OUT HE WAS OFF ON A CRUISE IN STUNSELL'S YACHT. UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES, IT WAS AWRWARD TO MEET SUDDENLY, AT THE CORNER OF A STREET NEAR TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD, ABOUT THE TWENTY-EIGHTH OF AUGUST.

OUR YACHT.

WE are on board, but not started, as yet. I have not regularly commenced Log-keeping, which is, I believe, much the same as Book-keeping, involving a knowledge of double entry; that is, as regards latitude and longitude. The Commodore was very much annoyed at discovering the name that the Owner had given to the vessel. A Board was held on deck, aft (a nautical phrase explained in my previous letter), and the opinion of the First Lieutenant and Mate (myself) taken by the Commodore.

This was at once done, and yesterday evening the Saucy
Nautilus beamed from the starn, or stern.

We shall get under way (nautical phrase already explained)
to-morrow, certainly. To-day we have been obliged to
discharge the Crew as totally incapacitated for duty, by
his inordinate affection for liquor. He nearly fell over
the ship's bullocks ("sides of the vessel," nautical phrase)
in attempting to vindicate his reputation for sobriety.
(N.B. "Bullocks" is spelt by the Commodore "Bulwarks,"
but the meaning is the same.) The Captain informed us
that he had heard of a most respectable man on shore
who would suit. From all accounts he was a perfect
treasure, thoroughly bonest, steady, sober, and a most
excellent cook. Several people connected with the shipping
interest corroborated this. He had served on board many
yachts, but all his employers were away at the time (having
been, in fact, like ourselves, merely temporary yacht-owners)
so that a written character was next to impossible. It
could, doubtless, be obtained, if we'd wait. We had better
see the man and judge for ourselves.

The Commodore sent for him this afternoon. The Treasure appeared before us; a red-haired, red-whiskered, middleaged man, with a thin prominent nose, a crab-apple sort of cheek, and light grey eyes. He was dressed in a blue Jersey, a P-jacket, dark nautical trousers, and looked (we all said) every inch a sailor. He was not given to garrulity, answering our questions briefly, but with civility. In the luxury of tobacco he was a ruminating animal. He wore his tarpaulin hat on the back of his head, touched his forelock when addressing any of us in command, had a blue anchor tattoo'd on his right hand, never used a pockethandkerchief, and, as we all observed for the second time, was every inch a sailor. His name was WILLIAM.

We engaged him at eighteen shillings a week, giving the Captain a guinea to keep up the dignity of his station. WILLIAM said that would do, if the Crew was allowed rations. The Captain took upon himself the responsibility of answering in the affirmative, and the Commodore, to whom I believe the question was quite a novelty, said that the Crew should have rations, quite as a matter of

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The Captain then took the Crew below ("below" means down-stairs") to stow him away in the hold, and show him the stove and cooking apparatus. In the evening a lot of coals were brought on board. (N.B. I think this is what they call "scuttling" a ship. If you do it often, you can be had up at the Old Bailey for it.) We only had one small bag.

With the early dawn we had a cigar and made for Puffin Island. After dinner, we returned. A lovely night. Commodore said that I had better commence my Log. The Treasure, WILLIAM, brought a lantern into our cabin. Before I commenced, the Commodore proposed that we should arrange our berths. I asked where were the has socks? So romantic to sleep in swinging hassocks, like midshipmen. (N.B. It's "hammocks," not "hassocks." They're beds slung up in the air by ropes.) They said that there was no room for hammocks, and showed me the two dark recesses, like boot-holes, that the Captain had shown me before, only I thought he was joking. These sailors are such dogs for fun.

The Lieutenant said, it was just like his (the Grocer's) something'd impudence. The Commodore agreed, and so did I though not being acquainted with the I own that I was a little disappointed, and observed usual impudent ways of the Owner, I was, of course, obliged to take the that even of these recesses there were only two; what was Lieutenant's word for the resemblance in this particular instance. The Commo- the third person to do? Keep watch, was the Commodore suggested that the name should be painted out. The vessel was, he de- dore's answer, as readily as if he'd been in command all monstrated, in point of law, ours for the time being. We had hired her by the his life. The Lieutenant and Mate always take it in week, had we not? We answered, yes, certainly. The Grocer said, he didn't care turn to keep watch, he explained to us. The Lieutenant what we called it, on condition that we painted the new name at our own expense. I positively objected: turn, and turn about, he said, was

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fair play. I expressed myself to the same effect, but did not foresee imagined, and suggested, more than ever, boot-holes, where rats and much turning about in the berths.

The Lieutenant immediately took possession of the starboard-side berth (nautical phrase for the left or right hand side, according as you may happen to be standing) and commenced spreading railway rugs, and coats, by way of bed-clothes. The Commodore said that he would take the first watch, and that I could jump into my berth. At Two Bells the Lieutenant and Mate should toss who was to relieve him. (Two bells means, in nautical phraseology, some hour or another, 1 o'clock, I think, which is sounded by bells. We hadn't any on board.. I asked the Commodore when "two bells" was. He only said, with an air of surprise, what didn't I know that ? and went up-stairs.) I was to keep my Log of the first watch.

I don't know how he managed it so quickly, but by the time the Commodore had gone aloft (i. e. on deck) the Lieutenant, who had only taken off his boots and Pjacket, and wrapped himself up in a couple of railway rugs, was fast asleep, with his head on a carpet-bag by way of pillow, and snoring deliberately.

So in the gloomy cabin, by the light of a dirty tallow candle, with a long wick, stuck in an old watchman's lantern, I sat down on a sort of a bench, jutting out between my berth and the floor, to commence my Log.

The first thing was to find pens and ink. They were in my small portmanteau. By groping about, I discovered my portmanteau in the recess called "my berth," which went much farther back than I had

FLOWERS FROM "LE FOLLET."

ELL does Le Follet continue to merit its name. There is intelligence, however, in the following observation on certain cloaks described among Fashions for September:

"A few of these cloaks are worn with a band and buckle, or sash outside, but this is a fashion only adopted by ladies who have not a just appreciation of the difference between eccentric and distingue."

The readers of Le Follet might have been told, for the information of some of them, what the difference between eccentric and distingué is. To be eccentric is necessarily to be distinguished; but we suppose that distingué, in the dialect of fashion, means distinguished by superior elegance, and eccentric distinguished by singularity alone. We are not sure, however, that distingué, in milliners' French, is not synonymous with aristocratic in milliners' English. The subjoined paragraph raises a question of interest:"A particular description of some toilettes we have seen, worn by or prepared for some of the reigning élégantes, will give a better idea of the styles in vogue than any general ideas on the subject."

Who are the reigning élégantes? Is LOUIS NAPOLEON a Mormonite? What other reigning élégantes are there than his EMPRESS? Is the QUEEN OF SPAIN a reigning élégante, for example? Or do the reigning élégantes reign only over the fashions? In that case, perhaps, the less said about them the better.

:

We now come to a passage relative to a sort of bonnet called the "chapeau empire," which will please Paterfamilias :"Some few milliners have attempted an imitation by means of a straight ribbon fulled on the bonnet; but this has a very ugly and home-made appearance, and is never likely to be adopted by any one with pretensions to taste."

Paterfamilias, with an eye to the notions which Le Follet might put into the heads of his daughters, will particularly admire the contemptuous view of home-made things which it inculcates in conjoining home-made, as a term of disparagement, with ugly. Paterfamilias will like to have suggested to his girls the opinion, that economy in dress is mean and beggarly. He will also rejoice greatly in Le Follet's announcement that:

"Dresses are made as long and as full as ever."

Yes; and Paterfamilias, although on a superficial view he may deem some evening dresses a great deal too low, will find, when he comes to pay for them, that they are quite high enough.

black-beetles walk about. If there is a thing I abhor it is a black-beetle; if a vermin I detest, it is a rat, so I boldly poked my lantern into every corner of the berth. My scrutiny only showed me cracks where the obnoxious creatures might crawl up, and I found myself humming that line in The Admiral," where the Tar sings, as if he was proud of it

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"Strange things come up to look at us, The monsters of the deep."

Here the Lieutenant snored loudly and moved. I would have given anything for a little conversation, even if he had only talked in his sleep; but he only murmured, or rather grunted, and slept as soundly

as ever.

"

I now noticed our deficiency in the way of tables. I would step up and mention this to the Commodore. On second thoughts as such conduct might show an ignorance of nautical usages, I would place my Log-book, ink, and lantern on my berth and commence. Here is my first entry. "Log of the Saucy Nautilus. Time, getting on for two belle, say one bell and a half, i. e. about 11:30. All calm. Very depressing. Cabin stuffy. Commodore on deck. Hear them talking and moving on deck. Lieutenant snoring. Feel hot over the eyes, not sleepy, envy Lieutenant. Don't know what to put down. Fancy I heard a rat. Shall try to go to bed, I mean go to berth." This was my first entry.

THE WORSE FOR LIQUOR LAW.

POOR LAWSON, from Carlisle,
Alas! Thou art discarded.
And yet the wise may smile
To see thee thus rewarded
For that Permissive Bill

John Barleycorn to slaughter.
There go, thy tumbler fill,

And drown thy grief in water.
Thou, SOMES, dismissed from Hull,
About thy business wander.

For making Sunday dull,

On schemes, in private, ponder.
Down in oblivion sink,

Thou, who wouldst by coercion,
Have barred, from needful drink,
The people on excursion.

POPE too, of Maine Law fame,
Thee Bolton has rejected;
Defeated is thine aim,

As was to be expected.
Retire, resume the stump;

The House is not thy station.
Betake thee to the Pump,

Thence draw thy consolation.

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OVERLOOKERS OF LINCOLN.

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THE Pall Mall Gazette states that "an energetic appeal is about to be made to the Crown" to allow the erection of " a new episcopal see, to be formed mainly out of the present extensive diocese of Lincoln.' Our well posted-up contemporary adds, that "Convocation has more than once recommended the establishment of the new diocese, and it is known that the whole of the episcopal bench are in favour of it;' moreover, that the BISHOP OF LINCOLN has declared himself willing "to give up part of his diocese, with the patronage belonging to it, to the new BISHOP OF SOUTHWELL"-as the see and prelate in contemplation are to be named "if the arrangement can be speedily effected." The diocese of Lincoln is certainly a very extensive one. So extensive is it that a single Bishop, episcopus or overlooker, cannot very well look over the whole of it. There is indeed a certain personage, who, according to a popular saying, "looks over Lincoln," and at present, appears to be the only overlooker capable of looking over all Lincoln alone. But that personage looks over Lincoln from an opposite standpoint to that of an ecclesiastical overlooker. As it is, he has perhaps the advantage of a single Bishop; but no doubt two Bishops would be more than a match for him.

Scene-A Railway Station.

Railway Official (very kindly). Nice Child that, Mam. What age may it be? Delighted Mamma. Only three years and two months. Railway Official (sternly). Two months over three. Then I shall require a ticket for it, please.

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Tom Lothbury (to Jack Billiter, who has "come in" to a nice little estate in Surrey, whereunto he intends retiring and rusticating.) "YOU'LL KEEP Cows, I S'POSE, AND ALL THAT SORT OF THING?"

Jack. "OH, NO, CAN'T BEAR MILK!"
Jack. "No, HATE EGGS AND PUDDINGS AND ALL THAT!"
Jack. "EH, AH! OH, YES; I'LL HAVE A SHEEP, I'M VEWY FOND OF KIDNEYS FOR BWEAKFAST!!"

Tom (who has a taste for the rural). "COCKS AND HENS, THEN?"
Tom. "NOR YET SHEEP?"

QUESTIONABLE CRITICISM.

forth, outside of certain dentists' doors, may be false, there is a great
mistake in the supposition that many people are allured by it, though

OUR attention has been attracted by the advertisement of "A New some may be; a few, who must be very great fools.
Work on the

"PURE DENTISTRY and WHAT IT DOES FOR US. By BLANK DASH, Blank Street, W.-'From the great success of the previous work on dental surgery, by the same author, we anticipate the above will be read with avidity by all classes who are interested in discriminating between pure and meretricious dentistry.'-Sold by, &c."

This announcement was published in the advertising columns of one of the principal morning papers. That portion of it printed between inverted commas has all the appearance of being an extract from a review, except the name of the review, which does not appear. Now, in the first place, we wonder whether the apparent quotation from some review of a "New Work on the Pure Dentistry," &c., was derived simply from the preface to that treatise. We wonder, in the next, whether the foregoing advertisement will appear elsewhere with the name of a respectable morning paper appended to the quotation which it contains. For then that quotation will, to the eye wherein there is green, seem to have been made from a review of the book in that respectable paper.

The anonymous critic, in the advertisement above copied, speaks of "classes who are interested in discriminating between pure and meretricious dentistry." We belong to one of those classes; we belong to that class which likes to know the meaning of words. What is meant by pure dentistry we understand. Pure dentistry we conceive to mean the art of drawing, scaling, filing, and stopping teeth, and supplying the place of lost natural teeth with artificial teeth on reasonable terms, and at charges that are not extortionate. But we cannot make out what meretricious dentistry means. There are ladies who have taken physicians' degrees and are practising medicine; but who has ever heard that any persons of the demi-monde are engaged in the practice of dental surgery? Meretricious, in its secondary sense, is "alluring by false show" but although the show of factitious palates, gums, and so

SUBSTITUTE FOR NEWS.

THE enormous gooseberry just now is out of season, but in its place we are presented by a contemporary with a very peculiar species of "RARA AVIS.-A few days since MR. WHITE, a gentleman residing at Erith, shot a heron in the marshes near the sewage outfall at Crossness Point, and wishing to have the scarce bird preserved and stuffed, took it for that purpose to a naturalist at Woolwich, who found in its gizzard a full-grown rat, the tusks of which were nearly an inch in length."

The common heron is not a scarce bird. Rats, however, are rarely found in the stomachs of herons. Did the writer of the above paragraph mean to make out his "Rara Avis" a rat ?

Authentic Intelligence.

It is rumoured that, on the occurrence of the next_vacancy in the
right reverend bench, a mitre will be conferred on DR. PUSEY.
MR. BRIGHT, on his return from America, will be raised to the
Peerage, and, on the resignation of VISCOUNT SIDNEY, appointed
Lord Chamberlain.
The Swiss Fleet is hourly expected at Spithead.

We are sorry to say that Hooping Cough is prevalent among the
Grenadier Guards.

BUOYANT INSCRIPTION POR THE ATLANTIC CABLE.-"To be left till called for."

Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, in the County of Middlesex, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 11, Bouverie Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, City of London. Printers, at their Office in Lomard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, City of London, and Published by them at No. 83, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, City of London.-SATURDAY, September 9, 1865.

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