Behold him in his seat, his face carnation,
    Just like an ace of hearts,
    Not red and white in parts,
    But one complete illumination. 
    He rises—­members blow their noses,
    And cough and hem! till one supposes,
    A general catarrh prevails from want of ventilation. 
  He speaks:—­
    Mr. Speaker, Sir, in me you see
    A member of this house (hear, hear),
    With whose proud pedigree
    The “Thunderer” has dared to interfere. 
    Now I implore,
    That Lawson may be brought upon the floor,
    And beg my pardon on his bended knees. 
    In whatsoever terms I please.
        (Oh! oh!)
        (No! no!)
        I, too, propose,
        To pull his nose: 
    No matter if the law objects or not;
    And if the printer’s nose cannot be got,
      The small proboscis of the printer’s devil
      Shall serve my turn for language so uncivil! 
          The “Thunderer” I defy,
          And its vile lie. 
      (As Ajax did the lightning flash of yore.)
      I likewise move this House requires—­
      No, that’s too complimentary—­desires,
      That Mr. Lawson’s brought upon the floor. 
          The thing was done: 
      The house divided, and the Ayes were—­ONE!

* * * * *

EXPRESS FROM WINDSOR.

Last evening a most diabolical, and, it is to be regretted successful, attempt, was made to kiss the Princess Royal.  It appears that the Royal Babe was taking an airing in the park, reclining in the arms of her principal nurse, and accompanied by several ladies of the court, who were amusing the noble infant by playing rattles, when a man of ferocious appearance emerged from behind some trees, walked deliberately up to the noble group, placed his hands on the nurse, and bent his head over the Princess.  The Honourable Miss Stanley, guessing the ruffian’s intention, earnestly implored him to kiss her instead, in which request she was backed by all the ladies present.[1] He was not, however, to be frustrated in the attempt, which no sooner had he accomplished, than he hurried off amidst the suppressed screams of the ladies.  The Royal Infant was immediately carried to the palace, where her heart-rending cries attracted the attention of her Majesty, who, on hurrying to the child, and hearing the painful narration, would, in the burst of her maternal affection, have kissed the infant, had not Sir J. Clarke, who was fortunately present, prevented her so doing.

    [1] This circumstance alone must at once convince every
        unprejudiced person of the utter falsity of the reports
        (promulgated by certain interested parties) of the disloyalty
        of the Tory ladies, when we see several dames placed in the
        most imminent danger, yet possessing sufficient presence of
        mind to offer lip-service to their sovereign.—­EDITOR. Morn. 
        Post.