What is the most likely issue of such conflict fierce and blind? 
  Unionism ’gainst Free Labour, Capital against mere Toil! 
  Is it better than two tigers fighting for some desert spoil? 
  “Federate” the Libyan lions as against the elephant herds,
  Will the battle be less savage?  Let us not be fooled by words!

  Say the tense-strained rope-strands sunder, say that either band prevail! 
  Shall not “conquer” in the issue prove a Synonym for “fail”? 
  “Banded Unions persecute,” and Federated Money Bags
  Will not prove a jot or tittle juster.  Fools!  Haul down those flags! 
  Competition is not conflict.  So the Grand Old Casuist says,
  Speaking with the sager caution of his earlier calmer days. 
  True!  Athletic rivals straining at the tense tough-stranded rope,
  Strain in friendly competition, ruin not their aim or hope;
  But a lethal Tug of War ’twixt “federated” foemen blind. 
  With a chasm at their feet, and each a yawning gulf behind,
  On a precipice precarious!  Truly, too, a foolish fight! 
  Rival Federated Wrongs will never further Common Right!

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“GIVE IT TO THE BARD!”

Mr. ROBERT INGERSOLL speaking of, and at, Poet WALT WHITMAN on the occasion of presenting the aged and eccentric poet with the “long contemplated testimonial,” to quote The Times, said, that “W.W. is intellectually hospitable”—­this sounds like ’ready to take in anybody’—­“but he refuses to accept a creed merely because it is wrinkled, old, and white-bearded.  Hypocrisy wears a venerable look; and relies on its mask to hide its stupidity and fear.”  Now this was rather rough on the Bard, who is described as “an interesting figure, with his long white hair falling over his shoulders.”  It seemed as if ROBERT INGERSOLL wished to imply, Don’t be taken in and accept W.W. at his own poetic valuation as a poet, simply because he is wrinkled, old, white-haired, and wears a venerable look, which, after all, may be only a hypocritical mask?  Mr. INGERSOLL couldn’t have been more infelicitous if he had “come to bury ‘WHITMAN,’ not to praise him.”  Then he went on, “Neither does WHITMAN accept everything new.”  This clearly excepted the testimonial, which, we may suppose, was brand new, or at all events, had been so at some time or other, though having been “long contemplated” it might have got a trifle dusty or mouldy.  Then finished the orator, magnificently, epigrammatically, and emphatically, thus “He” (i.e., WALT WHITMAN) “wants truth.”  And with all our heart and soul we reply, “We wish he may get it.”

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MR. PUNCH’S PRIZE NOVELS.—­No.  V., “Mignon’s Mess-Room,” will appear in our next Number.

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EMPLOYMENT OF CAPITAL.