So says my Sun, and prowd I was to lissen to his words; and this is what I can add to them from my own knowlidg.  There’s sum of the old boys, as isn’t quite as yung as when they left Skool, as has formed a club to dine together sumtimes, and tork of old times, like senserbel fellers as they is; and Mr. JOSEPH HARRIS, the gennelman in question, is allers there, and allers has to make a speech, and I am amost allers there too; and, to hear the joyful shouts of arty welcome with which his old pupils greets him when he rises for to speak, and their roars of larfter at his wit, and his fun, and his good-humer, while he is a speaking, is so wery remarkabel, that I sumtimes wanders whether it doesn’t, a good deal of it, rise from the fact of his great School being so close to Mr. Punch’s own horfice.  But this is over the way, as the great writer says.  May I be alowd to had that my speshal frend, and hewerybody’s speshal frend, Mr. COOKE, is reddy to receive any number of subskripshuns at 30, New Bridge Street, E.C.

ROBERT.

* * * * *

A NEW PROVIDENCE.—­“My life is in your hands,” as the Autobiographist said to his Publisher.

* * * * *

THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAN.

(LATEST VERSION; SUGGESTED BY A CASE AT THE LONDON SESSIONS.)

  And did you not hear of a jolly young Waterman,
    Who on the river his wherry did ply? 
  When rowing along with great skill and dexterity,
    A Cask of Madeira it caught his pleased eye. 
  It looked so nice, he rowed up steadily,
  Transferred that cask to his boat right readily;
  And he eyed the dear drink with so eager an air,
  For the name on the cask not a jot did he care.

  When smart EDDARD SAILL got that cask in his wherry,
    He cleaned it out—­partly—­with swiggings not small,
  And with his companions—­what wonder?—­made merry;
    Madeira’s a wine that’s not tippled by all. 
  One fancies one hears ’em a laughing and cheering,
  Says EDDARD, “My boys, this is better than beering! 
  A Waterman’s life would be free from all care
  If he often dropped on treasure trove like that there.”

  And yet but to think now how strangely things happen! 
    They copped him for “larceny by finding,”—­that’s all! 
  But SAILL couldn’t read, and the jury was kindly,
    So EDDARD got off, though his chance appeared small. 
  Now would this young Waterman keep out of sorrow,
  No derelict casks let him—­shall we say, borrow? 
  Madeira is nice, but you’d best have a care,
  Before swigging the wine, that it’s yours fair and square!

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Childhood and Youth of Dickens, a sort of short postscript to FORSTER’s Life, very well got up by its publishers HUTCHINSON & Co., will interest those who for the third or fourth time are going through a course of DICKENS.