"The machines (Scotch for carriages) drew off the ground;
Not a bottle was then in the boot to be found."

Thursday. The Lords met to hear the Royal Assent given to a heap of Bills, the Holidays Bill included; so Whit Monday, May 29, 1871, will be memorable as the first festival of the Liberated Clerks. Then their Lordships liberated themselves until the 5th of June. But, while England has been enjoying her great holiday, what of France? Every one can answer that question. On our Derby Day the flames of the Tuileries, the Louvre, and other glories of Paris were ascending, and the miscreants of the Commune were flying before the avengers, or falling to their shot and steel. The terrible record is made here only to explain what occurred next day in the House of Commons. SIR ROBERT PEEL asked whether the leaders of Parliament would not express some sympathy with France. MR. GLADSTONE said, and as the words will be historical, let them be quoted

"With respect to the question of his Right Hon. friend, the Member for Tamworth, he could not wonder that he had, whether in order or not in order, under the impression created by events so entirely without any real precedent in history, been driven or led to any mode of expressing the emotion which he felt in common with them all. For his own part, he would not attempt to characterise by any epithet the circumstances of which they had obtained a partial knowledge, and he would the rather refrain from it because he was conscious that there were no epithets that could adequately or in any degree give satisfaction to the feelings with which every man's mind and head must be oppressed. He did not see at the present moment in what manner the House could advantageously or usefully express an opinion on the subject. But there was not a Member of the House who, if he saw means of doing so usefully, and of conveying the slightest comfort and solace under circumstances so extraordinary, would not be most forward to avail themselves of it. (Loud cheers.)"

Nearly all the rest of the night was given to the Purchase debates, and on one division the Government majority had dwindled to 16 in a House of 324. The riotous cheering of the Colonels' party testified its joy.

Friday. LORD ELCHO received a guarded answer as to the surrender, by England, of any French insurgents. Their cases will be considered as they arise. The Westmeath Bill went through Committee, and the House rose for the holidays.

THE ALABAMA CLAIMS PAYERS.

BRITISH People, do not cry
O'er your mess of humble pie,
Treaty, not to call it names,
Touching Alabama Claims.

Eat it up, be not afraid,
Never mind of what 'tis made;
You won't taste it, you'll digest,
'Twill not weigh upon your chest.

Do not give its price a thought,
It will cost the Many nought.
All the sum awarded due,
Will be levied on the Few.

They alone that fine will share
Who the Tax on Income bear;
They 're all extras doomed to pay
Evermore. Hip, hip, hooray!

Peeress and Peerless.

THE author of A Trap to Catch a Sunbeam has produced a Novel, announced under the title of A Peerless Wife. Of course, this does not mean LADY BEACONSFIELD, although it might, and the Leader of Her Majesty's Opposition may think, would still, even if that Right Honourable Gentleman were himself raised to the Peerage.

A CHEER AND A SAW.

IMAGINARY GOSSIP.

MR. AYRTON will appear at the next Court Fancy Ball as Lord CHESTERFIELD.

SIR WILFRID LAWSON yesterday visited the brewery of MESSRS. BARCLAY, PERKINS, and Co., and was conducted over their extensive premises. The Hon. Baronet, it is expected, will take the chair at the next Licensed Victuallers' Dinner.

The words of the song, so popular at the Music Halls, "I'll have your Chignon!" were written by ALFRED TENNYSON.

LORD WESTBURY is engaged in the task of preparing an annotated edition of DR. WATTS' Hymns.

ADMIRAL ROUS will shortly retire from the Turf. The EARL OF SHAFTESBURY is named as his successor in the Jockey Club. A course of lectures on Physiology is about to be delivered at South Kensington by PROFESSOR HUXLEY, in aid of the Society for the Conversion of the Jews. ARCHBISHOP MANNING has been elected a Fellow of the Royal Society.

MR. DARWIN has gone over to Rome.

At St. James's Hall yesterday, the LORD CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND performed on the banjo in a band of amateur negro minstrels, who gave a concert there for the benefit of the Indignant Blind.

The liberal Directors of the Crystal Palace Company have engaged MR. GLADSTONE to deliver his celebrated imitations during the intervals between the performances at the Handel Festival.

LORD SALISBURY has been giving penny readings from Lothair. A set-to at the Westminster Rooms will come off to-morrow night between BOB LOWE and BEN DIZZY; when the hat will go round for TONY ROTHSCHILD.

THE Directors of the Holborn Amphitheatre have shown us, and continue to show us, many wonders in the way of Horse-Education. But they have never given us anything like this. We read that the Stockport Yeomanry went to Chester the other day, that the

"Men looked well and hearty, and bore a soldier-like bearing, and that the steeds on which they rode were in excellent condition, playing as they went through See the Conquering Hero Comes.'"

Had not an agent better be dispatched at once to secure some of these marvellous Musical Horses for the Circus? Moreover, we commend the news to the consideration of military economists. What a saving, if Cavalry Horses could be their own Band!

A Free Translation.

Examiner. Render Rem acu tetigisti.
Candidate. "You've hit the nail on the head."
Examiner. Construe it literally, Sir.

Candidate. Tetigisti, thou hast hit; rem, the nail; acu, on the head.

England out of Danger.

THE DAY OF WRATH.

Ir is no vision, this, of opening seals

Of the sun turned to blackness, as of hair

Of sackcloth, and the moon become as blood

A heaven rolled like a scroll, an earth that reelsCaptains and Kings, the world's great, rich, and fair, Calling the rocks to bar the fiery flood

Of His wrath, that, once kindled, who can bear?

But since the Seer of Patmos heard, far-blown,
The trumpet of the voice that bade him write
The things that are, and things that are to be;
And in the spirit saw the heaven-set throne;
And One thereon, 'mid thunderings and light;
And in His hand a book, writ wondrously,
Sealed with the seals of judgment and of might-

Was no more dreadful sight, more awful sound
Than those which we of this time see and hear
Across our guarding moat of silver sea.
A queenly nation in a breath, discrowned,
And hurled by mutual hate, distrust, and fear,
To deeper than the deepest infamy,

Tearing her undressed wounds with maniac cheer,

Clutching her own throat with self-slaughtering hands,
And, in a blatant babble Bedlamite,

Of liberty and love and brotherhood,
Through her fair city flinging fiery brands,
That in her children's blood hiss as they light,
And wrap in flames, not madder than her mood,
Trophies of her old fame and vanished might.

It is as if wrath's vials, seals, and woes
Had all been charged with bitterness afresh

For her who reigned Queen of Earth's Carnival;
Mistress of amorous arts, seductive shows,
That feed the pride of eye and lust of flesh-
Imperial courtezan, with smiles for all,

And hair that caught souls in its golden mesh.

How she sits desolate-with ashes strewed

Over the glory of that golden hair,

Her bright limbs bleeding, her brave garments torn;
And round her, slain by mutual hands, the brood
She taught sow scoff and doubt, to reap despair,
And, dying, curse the day that they were born,
To see their trusts fail in that fiery air..

Hate armed 'gainst hate, and fear encountering fear:
They whose eyes, set behind, see but the past:
And they, trance-blinded, who no present own,
For all the stumbling-blocks that it may rear
To trip vain feet, drawn from paths firm and fast,
By mirage of a future, only shown

To vanish-mockery of the desert waste.

Is this woe but for others' warning sent-
That, placid Pharisees, we may stand by,
To preach our skim-milk sermons, and fling stones,
In smug self-righteousness and self-content-
Whose work it is wild notions to decry,
Spread faith in £ s. d., and from dry bones
Draw morals that our practice justify?

Are there no waters out to rot our piles?

No shocks to shake the high-ground of our pride?
No trains laid, no petroleum stored, to burn

Her trophies, who sits crowned Queen of these Isles,
That, like moored argosies, the ocean ride,

Full of wealth, loud with work, from stem to stern, Tempting the pirates with ill-guarded sides:

Crew, poorly fed, worse berthed, ill, or untaught:
Captain, that with his officers must count

Some good, more bad; to quick change easy swayed;
More heeding pursers'-books, stores sold and bought,
And how to pare down item and amount,
Than how the crew is drilled, commands obeyed,
And honour reverenced, and honour's fount."

Who can tell when and whence the cry may come,
"The pirates are upon us! Stand to arms!"
And what that cry may find of hidden hate,
Untrusty trusts, and order-givers dumb :
Till, less by foes than self-inflicted harms,
The Great Ship yields her to the conquering Fate

I'm there, until he's finished with me, and I tell him I feel better, when he brightens up, and says, "Dere! didn't I tell you so. Trust SAMUEL, he never tell a lie-it just de very day for a bath." And so on, whatever the weather may be.]

SAMUEL retires. We are in a light and airy room of Gothic style, with a plunge sea-water bath at one side of it under a sky-light. There are several neat-looking beds, or rather pallets, ranged lengthways on either side, giving the room a sort of private hospital appearance, or perhaps (taking the Gothic character into consideration) the infirmatorial department of a somewhat luxurious monastery. The religious tone of the place is heightened by the introduction of stained glass, and by the little dressing cabins for the plungers," which remind one of the open confessionals seen in Catholic churches. Quite primitive notion. Confession first, and

MY HEALTH.

STILL, I am not quite satisfied as to whether a Turkish Bath isn't a dangerous remedy in this climate, specially to-day, as there's an east wind. I put this scientifically to SAMUEL, to show him that I really am considering the bath medicinally, and have not come merely to lounge.

Note.-Subsequent experience shows me that Turkish Baths are generally taken for the following reasons:

1st, Because it passes a couple of hours away easily. 2ndly, Because it gives you an appetite for dinner. 3rdly, Because the taker has felt a little "chippy." (as BUDD calls it) all day and thinks it will set him right. 4thly, Because you've not taken one before, and want to know what it's like.

5thly, Because you took one a long time ago, and forget whether you liked it or not.

6thly, Because the one you had a year since didn't agree with you, but you rather think it was your fault, so you're going to give it another chance.

7thly, Because the one you had the other day didn't do any good, and you were told that it's the second which is really

beneficial.

8thly, Because the first Turkish Bath you had agreed with you wonderfully.

9thly, Because you've been saying you'll take one for the last two years, and haven't had time.

10thly, Because you like it.

11thly, Because you don't like it, but think it will do you good. 12thly, Because another fellow takes it regularly, and wants you to go with him.

13thly, Because your doctor thinks it's a capital thing. 14thly, Because your doctor says it's the worst thing possible, and you want to show him he's wrong.

15thly, Because it's a wet day, and you might as well be in Turkish Bath as anywhere else-better.

16thly, Because it's a fine day, just the day for a bath. 17thly, Because it's a hot day, and you want to get cool. 18thly, Because it's a cold day, and you want to get hot. And so on.

a

I object to the bath to-day, because of the east wind. East wind!" repeats SAMUEL, opening his eyes and mouth, and stretching out his hands, as if he were playing at fives, and expected to hit the ball next time. "East wind!!" here he half turns away, chuckles at the absurdity of the idea, and then faces us again. What's de east wind? Why-it's de very day to take a bath! Dere wouldn't be no test for de bath if it weren't for de east wind!"

66

"But," I say, "I may catch cold on leaving, and must wrap up." SAMUEL smiles pityingly, and looks from me to BUDD, then back again at me, then once more at BUDD. Then he finds words: Why," he says, almost plaintively, "if you wrap up, what's de good of coming to me?" This is the first time I've heard anything like a conundrum from him. "Don't say, if you're ill afterwards, it's de bath; don't blame SAMUEL. No; it's de fault of de wrapping up. Dere, Sar," he adds, with the air of putting a thorough poser, and settling the question once and for ever, "Look at me!" I do. " Wa-al, where am I all de day?" [Ah! another conundrum.] "Ain't I in bath, den out? Do I wrap up?" [These have been, as it were, a series of conundrums.] Indignantly, "No!" Pause. Then he calms down, and finishes up with his usual," Well, den, you trust to SAMUEL (himself) and he see you all right."

[Mem: subsequently. Another day I ask him-" Bad day, SAMUEL, for bath, so cold, north wind too.' He replies, "Dere! hear dat! Well," as if in utter amazement at the absurdity of my objection, "Well, I am astonished! An' you an eddicated gen'leman! Why de north wind!!! Why, it de very day for a Turkish Bath," and he seems to be so shocked and hurt that one feels compelled to take a bath in order to console him. But he can't get over it all the time

Growler has followed BUDD into the room, and sulkily takes up a position under a bed. We prepare for the bath. First stage, the acrobatic.

of a kaleidoscopic pattern, very dangerous to biliousness and headHot Room Number One. Red brick walls. Stained glass windows aches. There is a large marble slab, like the front of a fishmonger's shop, only not sloping on one side, where, BUDD says, the patients Somehow his use of the word 'patient" grates upon me. The marble slab, too, suggests—but, noI am simply nervous, the effects of my Aunt, DODDRIDGE, Turtle-this must be repressed. dove, & Co.

can lie."

I feel that my head is getting hot and dry, and my feet cold. I mention this to BUDD, as an experienced man. He replies, "Ah! yes! they do sometimes." "But," I ask, "is that right?" being anxious. He answers in an off-hand manner (not being the least nervous or unwell himself), that he doesn't think it matters. It suddenly occurs to BUDD that he oughtn't to have left Growler in the first room under the bed, because of people coming in.

"Why? what would he do?" I ask, having hitherto looked upon Growler as harmless, only of a sulky demeanour.

66

Why," he answers ruminatingly, "he's inclined to be stupid with strangers."

I inquire in what way he shows his "stupidity?" It appears, from BUDD's reply, that Growler's "stupidity with strangers" developes itself in a tendency towards strangers' calves. I inquire, in case I have to go into the room alone, whether there is any chance of Growler being "stupid" with me.

"Well," BUDD says, "in that undress I don't know." He alludes to my present acrobatic appearance. "He mightn't make you quite out.' Then I won't go in there alone.

No," returns BUDD; "I wouldn't, if I were you-better not." But," I add, "those sort of dogs are so intelligent; he's seen me often with you, and he'd probably know my voice."

"Yes," returns BUDD, standing in the doorway which leads to Hotter Room, "he'd know your voice if he could hear it, but the stupid with strangers." old boy's as deaf as a post, and, you see, it's that makes him rather With which he disappears into Hot Room, Number Two.

I am gradually becoming accustomed to the atmosphere: being "acclimatised," as it were. My hair feels to my touch like grass after three weeks scorching sun in July. I wish SAMUEL would come and watch me to see how I'm getting on. Being all alone is unpleasant and a trifle dangerous. I might frizzle up suddenly or faint. BUDD is, as far as I know, out of call, and I couldn't run into the hot room for help, which would be out of the frying-pan (first room) into the fire (second room), and in the only cool room, where we commenced, is Growler, who, being deaf, won't "quite make me out," and will probably be "stupid" with me, as a stranger. Whatever may be the ultimate result, at present I am drying up. I feel dry all over; parched. I want my pockethandkerchief. It is in the first room. Let me see, if I go back into the first room without medical advice, or SAMUEL's advice, I may perhaps, get a chill and send myself all wrong. And again recurs to me-only more strongly-the just-mentioned want of intellect on the part of that Beast. On the whole better stay where I am. Why doesn't SAMUEL come and see how I am getting on? A novice oughtn't to be left alone. Supposing I was to faint suddenly, or . Ah! here is SAMUEL.

How does he think I am getting on ?

He is in ecstasy with my progress. He spreads out his hands and opens his eyes. O, beautiful!" he exclaims; "beautiful! dat," he says, alluding to my present state, "dat's what I call Naytchar." So do I to a certain extent. I complain of being dry, generally; of my hair being dry particularly.

SAMUEL is quite annoyed; for a few seconds he really can't speak. He is, apparently, so very much put out by my evident ingratitude towards Naytchar," and himself. "Why," he says, when he has recovered himself, "Gracious Goodness!" rolling his head from side to side, and as usual extending his hands, palms flat out, like fins, "Ain't dat de verry ting you come 'ere for? You leave it to me;" then, appealingly, to my