Stephen’s, hot with T-M H-LY
      jeering. 
  S-L-SB-RY, too, with a well-trained crew, would put his back—­that
      broad back of his!—­in it. 
  Don’t be in a hurry, my nautical friend! we shall all get out in
      another minute. 
  Just like life!  Such fidgety strife to be first to the front when the
      lock-gates sever. 
  What does it matter, friends, after all?  The slow, the skilful, the
      dull, the clever,
  The snake-swift “swell” and the splashing ’ARRY, the puffing launch,
      and the trim outrigger,
  The calm canoest who hugs the timbers, the fussy punter who toils
      like a nigger,
  All will anon be well out in the cutting, the old gates shutting
      slowly behind them,
  And where are those who so shoved to the front?  At the tail of the
      race you may presently find them. 
  The G.O.M. (with his collars for sails), that jaunty skiff might be
      handling.  Bless us! 
  Can he take holiday, he whom toil seems to encoil like a shirt of
      Nessus? 
  Well, Union_ist_ or Separat_ist_, or chap with a twist like
      C-NN-NGH-M GR-H-M,
  Or howling PAT, or Aristo_crat_ with manners like BRUMMEL and voice
      like BRAHAM,
  Peppery G-SCH-N, or pompous H-RC-RT, or genial SM-TH, the new-made
      Warden,
  All, all, to-day, when the world is gay, the stream like silver, the
      banks a garden,
  Much worse might do than tog up in blue and join a crew on the
      rolling river,
  “Beyond the tide,” dropping all their “side,” party or personal,
      leaving “liver,”
  And Influenza, and other “Obstructions,” all party-jobbers, all
      jibbers and jolters,
  In sunny weather to crowd together in Moulsey Lock, or it might be
      BOULTER’s!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN COOKERY.

Young Lady.  “AND NOW, JANE, WHAT’S THE NEXT THING TO DO, AFTER PUTTING THE MEAT AND POTATOES IN THE STEWPAN?”

Village Girl.  “PLEASE, MISS, WASH THE BABY!”]

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

The Kennel, Barks, Friday, May 15.—­This entry in Diary is dated from my ancestral home, pleasantly situated in the County I have the honour to represent.  Haven’t been to Westminster this week.  Hear, through usual channels of information, that House adjourns to-day for Whitsun Recess.  When I say House, I mean fragment that remains; a few doors and chimneys, with here and there a ruined wing.  Fact is, majority absent with influenza.  Some seventy or eighty of us have formed House of our own; meet regularly at usual hour; get through business in a way that would astonish the residuum left at Westminster; and jog off comfortably for dinner.  All Parties and all sections of Party represented.  SPEAKER and