Who spreads dissatisfaction wide 'Mongst those who else with all they spied Had been extremely satisfied?

The Deadhead.

Who runs us down for many a day, And keeps no end of folks away That else would for admittance pay?

The Deadhead.

Who keeps his reputation still, For recompensing good with ill With more than Pandemonium's skill?

The Deadhead.

Who makes the bankrupt's doleful doom In all its blackness o'er me loom?

Who'll bring my grey head to the tomb?

The Deadhead.

"THE WAY THEY HAVE IN THE NAVY."

(_Adapted to the Requirements of the Army._)

"There was no doubt about it," queried the Quartermaster to the Adjutant, "the Chief certainly desired me to execute him?"

"That is unquestionably my impression," replied the Adjutant.

"Yes, and it never does to question his orders," continued the Quartermaster; "it makes him so wild if he fancies that you are disobeying his commands."

"Quite so," admitted the Adjutant; "and so the best thing is to carry them out. As you know, obedience is 'the first law of a soldier.'"

"Still, to shoot a man for nothing, does seem a _little_ hard."

"How do we know it's for nothing? You may be sure the Chief has his own reasons for everything."

And so the two warriors walked to the barrack square and sent for the unfortunate Private THOMAS ATKINS. As the order was conveyed to the quarters of the rank and file, men lounged out of the mess-room, and discussed the Colonel's orders. It seemed "a bit strange," but it was not for them to dispute the chief's command. And, as they spoke, Private THOMAS ATKINS was produced. He had a clean defaulter's sheet.

"On my word, I really trust that there may be some mistake," said a Brigade-Surgeon-Lieutenant-Colonel M.D. "But, as I am not now attached to the battalion, I have no right to interfere."

Private THOMAS ATKINS was marched to a wall, ordered to right-about turn, and then (under the command of the Quartermaster) shot.

Then the civil power, in the person of a police-constable, thought it time to interfere, and arrested the officer immediately in command.

"Dear me!" exclaimed the Colonel, subsequently; "how exceedingly absurd! I wanted the Quartermaster to give him a new suit, and he thought I asked him to shoot him! You fellows really ought to be more careful!"

But nothing could be done, because the matter had pa.s.sed into the hands of the civil power.

And, all things taken into consideration, it was just as well that they had.

THE BALLAD OF DEPARTED PIPPINS.

(_Some Way after Villon and Rossetti._)

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Tell me, now, where has _it_ departed, That fine old apple, the Ribstone Pippin, The rosy-coated, and juicy-hearted, I loved, when a "nipper," my teeth to slip in?

Where is the Russet we boys thought rippin'?

(Though its sharpness sometimes started the tears?) Oh! such-like often I've spent my "tip" in-- But where are the apples of earlier years?

Where's the King Pippin, the sun-brown one?

And where is the Catshead, light Spring green?

(Which gave, while eating, such glorious fun, If--after munching--some dule and teen)?

And where is the Golden k.n.o.b, whose sheen Would draw the wasps all about our ears?

(Sometimes in our mouths, if they were not seen)-- But where are the apples of earlier years?

White watery things from the land of the Yankee, And sugary shams from the Austral seas, They sell us--at sixpence per pound! No, thankee!

I have no palate for frauds like these.

There's not an apple that now could please Poor EVE so much as to waken fears.

Ah, the luscious Pippins youth crunched at ease!

But where are the apples of earlier years?

Nay, never ask if your fruiterer's heard Of "a decent pippin" (the huckster sneers!) Except with this for, an overword-- But where _are_ the apples of earlier years?

RATHER MIXED.--In the sale of wines at CHRISTIE'S last week, Lot 136 is described as "3 dozen of sherry, 1842, been to West Indies, more or less." Now, why this mystery? Why not make a clean breast of it? Is it meant that the sherry called in at only one or two of the Indies? or did it only set half way on the voyage to the group? We should learn more or be told less.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FELINE AMENITIES.

_Fair Visitor._ "Do Play something, Dear! I love to hear your Music!"

_Fair Hostess._ "SORRY, DEAR, BUT THIS PIANO IS SO DREADFULLY OUT OF TUNE! THAT'S THE WORST OF LIVING IN APARTMENTS! MY MUSIC-MASTER SAYS THAT TO USE SUCH A PIANO AS THAT IS FATAL TO REAL PLAYING! BUT WON'T _YOU_ PLAY SOMETHING, DEAR?"]

THROUGH THE LOCK.

Grand Old Puntsman pipes up:--

"_Lock! Lock! Lock!_"

Heaven be thanked, we're through it!

Spite of crush, and jam, and shock, _That's_ the way to do it!

Now for a fair "flowing tide,"

Verdurous banks and shady!

Yes, we're through. _I_'m glad, aren't _you_, Eh, my little lady?

"_Lock! Lock! Lock!_"

Trim the punt, sweet, prythee!

You look nice in your new frock!