ONE WHO LIKES IBSEN—­AT A DISTANCE.

* * * * *

STRIKING TIMES.

NEW VERSION OF AN OLD STREET BALLAD.

(BY A LABOURING ELECTOR.)

  Cheer up, cheer up, you sons of toil, and listen to my song. 
  The times should much amuse you; you are up, and going strong. 
  The Working Men of England at length begin to see
  That their parsnips for to butter now the Parties all agree.

    Chorus.

  It’s high time that the Working Men should have it their own way,
  And their prospect of obtaining it grows brighter every day!

  This is the time for striking, lads; at least, it strikes me so. 
  Monopoly has had some knocks, and under it must go. 
  NORWOOD we licked; LIVESEY licked us; his was an artful plan;
  But luck now turns.  Ask JOHNNY BURNS, and also TOMMY MANN!

    Chorus—­It’s high time, &c.

  It isn’t “Agitators” now, but Parties and M.P.’s,
  Who swear we ought to have our way, and do as we darn please. 
  Upon my word it’s proper fun!  A man should love his neighbour;
  Yet Whigs hate Tories, Tories Whigs; but oh! they all love Labour!

    Chorus—­It’s high time, &c.

  There’s artful JOEY CHAMBERLAIN, he looks as hard as nails,
  But when he wants to butter us, the Dorset never fails;
  He lays it on so soft and slab, not to say thick and messy. 
  He couldn’t flummerify us more were each of us a JESSE!

    Chorus—­It’s high time, &c.

Then roystering RANDOM takes his turn; his treacle’s pretty thick; He gives the Tories the straight tip,—­and don’t they take it—­quick?  And now, by Jove, it’s comical!—­where will the fashion end?—­ There’s PARNELL ups and poses as the genuine Labourer’s Friend!

    Chorus—­It’s high time, &c.

  Comrades, it makes me chortle.  The Election’s drawing nigh,
  And Eight Hours’ Bills, or anything, they’ll promise for to try. 
  They’ll spout and start Commissions; but, O mighty Labouring Host,
  Mind your eye, and keep it on them, or they’ll have you all on toast!

    Chorus.

  It’s high time that the Working Men should have it their own way.
  They’ll strain their throats,—­you mind your votes, and you may find it pay!

* * * * *

WILDE FLOWERS.

Some other fellow, in the P.M.G., has been beforehand with us in spotting “A Preface to Dorian Gray,” by our OSCAR WILDE-r than ever, in this month’s Fortnightly.  Dorian Gray was published some considerable time ago, so it belongs to ancient history, and now, after this lapse of time, out comes the preface.  And this “preface” occupies the better part, I