Fancy Portrait of the Gentleman who writes every Year to the Times, to chronicle the first Primrose he picks in the Vicarage Garden, and the song of that precocious Cuckoo that his little Grandson heard in the Woods on the First of April. He is now writing to describe a Meteor which flew over the Vicarage with a loud report at 9.37¼ p.m. on November 5, 1895, just as he was about to retire for the night.
Coma or Convalescence?—Listen to the Cork Daily Herald:—
"Something must be done to bring about the return of the old healthy conditions in the Irish Party."
It sees it at last! No doubt the Party was strong and vigorous "sub consule Parnell"; but was it the strength of health, or of inflammation, as Dr. Gerald Balfour and the Unionist doctors would say? The leading Irish physicians, of course, hold that the patient is now in a relapse, and must be roused at all costs, and to rouse him they all quarrel at his bedside. Not a "good bedside manner," this!
Congratulations.
To whom? To Mr. Stanhope Forbes, A.R.A., on his receiving a first-class medal at the Munich Arts Exhibition. They should also have bestowed on him the freedom of the city and made him a member of the Munich-ipality. Likewise to Hubert Herkomer, R.A., decorated by the Emperor of Austria. So far is good, very excellent good; but there may be yet something in store for him, and Mr. Punch says—
"Hubert, I love thee.
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee."