LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY. Thursday, June 12.—Letters from Billsbury arrive by every post, Horticultural Societies, sea-side excursions, Sunday School pic-nics, cricket club fêtes, all demand subscriptions, and, as a rule, get them. If this goes on much longer I shall be wound up in the Bankruptcy Court. Shall have to make a stand soon, but how to begin is the difficulty. Pretty certain... more...

No. IV.—THE WILD DUCK. ACT I. At WERLE's house. In front a richly-upholstered study. (R.) a green-baize door leading to WERLE's office. At back, open folding doors, revealing an elegant dining-room, in which a brilliant Norwegian dinner-party is going on. Hired Waiters in profusion. A glass is tapped with a knife. Shouts of "Bravo!" Old Mr. WERLE is heard making a long speech,... more...

LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY. [CONTINUED.] Thursday, April 16.—On looking through my book I find that I am now a member of ten Billsbury Cricket Clubs, to most of which I am a Vice-President. Not bad, considering that my average in my last year at school was four, and that I didn't play more than half-a-dozen times at Oxford. TOLLAND says there are many more Foot-ball Clubs than Cricket... more...

CHAPTER I. TANT' SANNIE was stewing kraut in the old Dutch saucepan. The scorching rays of the African sun were beating down upon BONAPARTE BLENKINS who was doing his best to be sun-like by beating WALDO. His nose was red and disagreeable. He was something like HUCKLEBERRY FINN's Dauphin, an amusing, callous, cruel rogue, but less resourceful. TANT' SANNIE laughed; it was so pleasant to... more...

THE PRINCE. (A Letter from Nicola Puncio Machiavelli to the Most Illustrious Vittorio Emanuele, Son of Umberto, King of Italy.) I. There never was, nor is at this day, any man in the world who is not either a Prince or not a Prince. Seeing, therefore, that your Highness appertains of right to the class of them that are Princes, and being ambitious to present to your Highness that which should have the... more...

A FIRST VISIT TO THE "NAVERIES." "Shiver my timbers!" said the Scribe. "Haul down my yard-arm with a marling-spike!" cried the Artist. And with these strictly nautical expressions, two of Mr. Punch's Own entered the Royal Naval Exhibition, which now occupies the larger portion of the grounds of the Military Hospital, Chelsea. That so popular a show should be allowed to... more...

A 'BUS 'OSS'S MEMS. (Kept during a recent Social Crisis.) Saturday, June 6, 11 P.M.—Home after our last turn. Fancy from several drinks had on the way, and the pace we had to put into that last mile and a half, that something's up. Turned into stall nice and comfortable, as usual. Sunday.—Something is up with a vengeance. Hoorooh! We're on strike. I don't know the... more...

THE TRIUMPH OF BLACK AND WHITE. "After all, the best of KEENE's life-work is to be found in the innumerable cuts which he contributed to Punch during a period of nearly forty years; and still more in the originals of these, the masterly pen-and-ink drawings which are now for the first time shown in a collected form to the Public." So says Mr. CLAUDE PHILLIPS, in his "Prefatory... more...

A WAIL FROM THE TUB. A REMINISCENCE OF SUNDAY, THE 14TH OF JUNE. SCENE.—Hyde Park. Demonstration in progress, with the not unreasonable object of inducing Parliament to extend the Factory Acts to small and insanitary laundries. A lengthy procession, composed of sympathetic Railway Workers, Cabmen, Journeymen Tailors, Gas Stokers, House-Decorators, Carpenters, &c., &c., alt with resplendent... more...

VOCES POPULI. BRICKS WITHOUT STRAW. SCENE—A Village School-room. A Juvenile Treat is in progress, and a Magic Lantern, hired for the occasion, "with set of slides complete—to last one hour" is about to be exhibited. The Vicar's Daughter (suddenly recognising the New Curate, who is blinking unsuspectingly in the lantern rays). Oh, Mr. TOOTLER, you've just come in time to help us!... more...