That House of Woe must soon be closed to all
  Who linger now therein with tedium mortal,
  And of those lingerers a proportion small
      Again may pass its portal. 
  There’s many a one who o’er its threshold stole
  In Eighty-Six’s curious Party tangle,
  Who for the votes which helped him head the poll
      In vain again may angle. 
  The GRAHAMS and the CALDWELLS may look bold,
  So may the CONYBEARES, and COBBS and TANNERS;
  But the next House quite other men may hold,
      And (let’s hope) other manners. 
  They’d like to know when this will close its door
  Upon each moribund and mournful Member,
  And who will stand upon the House’s floor
    After, say, next November. 
  That’s why the M.P.’s sit in silent doubt,
  Why spirits flag, and cheeks are pale and livid,
  And why the DISSOLUTION SPOOK stands out
    So ominously vivid. 
  Some key to the result of the appeal
  They yearn for vainly, all their nerves a-quiver;
  The presence of the Shadow they all feel,
    And sit, and brood, and shiver. 
  There is a sombre rumour in the air,
  The shadow of a Presence dim, atrocious;
  No human creature can be festive there,
    Even the most ferocious. 
  An Omen in the place there seems to be,
  Both sides with spectral perturbation covering. 
  The straining eyeballs are prepared to see
    The Apparition hovering. 
  With doubt, with fear, their features are o’ercast;
  SALISBURY at Covent Garden might have spoken,
  But, save for Rumour’s whispers on the blast,
    The silence is unbroken. 
  And over all there hangs a cloud of fear,
  The Spook of Dissolution all has daunted,
  And says as plain as whisper in the ear,
    The House is Haunted!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  SOCIAL PROBLEMS NOT HAPPILY SOLVED.

Husband. “OH, SIR JOHN, SO GLAD YOU HAVE CALLED!—­AND SO KIND OF LADY DASHWOOD TO HAVE ASKED us TO HER PARTY!—­BUT WE ARE QUITE IN A FIX WHEN TO COME, BECAUSE THE CARD SAYS ‘EARLY AND LATE.’”

Sir John. “OH, I THINK I CAN TELL YOU.  SEND YOUR WIFE VERY EARLY INDEED, AND YOU CAN COME AS LATE AS YOU LIKE!”

Husband (who does not quite see it).  “THANKS!  THANKS!  VERY MANY THANKS!”]

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

“Upon what principle,” one of my Baronites writes, “do people collecting a number of short stories for publication in one volume, select that which shall give the book its title?” Of course I know, but shan’t say; am not here to answer conundrums.  After interval of chilling silence, my Baronite continues, “Lady LINDSAY has brought together ten stories which A. & C. BLACK publish in a comely volume.  She calls it A Philosopher’s Window, that being the title of the first in the procession.  I have looked through the Philosopher’s