without removing his hobnails, or his corduroys, he sprang lightly into the
Oxbridge racing-boat. The rest is soon told. In less time than it takes to
narrate the story, the Camford lead was wiped out. The exertion proved too
much for seven men in the Oxbridge Crew, but the gigantic strength of the
eighth, Lord STONYBROKE, was sufficient of itself to win the race by fifty
lengths. And that night, when the Prime Minister handed to him the reward
of victory in the shape of a massive gold dessert service, he was also able
to announce that the STONYBROKE estates and the STONYBROKE title had been,
by the Monarch's command, restored to their original possessor, as a reward
of conspicuous valour and strength. [THE END.]

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF COMMONS WAX-WORKS. THE CHIEF GROUPS.]

* * * * *

Walt Whitman.

"The good grey Poet" gone! Brave, hopeful WALT!
He might not be a singer without fault,
And his large rough-hewn rhythm did not chime
With dulcet daintiness of time and rhyme.
He was no neater than wide Nature's wild,
More metrical than sea-winds. Culture's child,
Lapped in luxurious laws of line and lilt,
Shrank from him shuddering, who was roughly built
As cyclopean temples. Yet there rang
True music through his rhapsodies, as he sang
Of brotherhood, and freedom, love and hope,