Whose hands with gestures frantic
Contiguous coat-tails clutch.

The furious factions splutter,
Power's cheated claimants mutter,
And foiled fire-eaters utter
Most sanguinary threats.
"_He_ Freedom's fated suckler?
The traitor, trickster, truckler!"
So fumes the fierce swash-buckler,
And his toy-rapier whets.

But will that quicksand only
Engulph _him_ lost and lonely?
The fraud exposed, the known lie,
The bribe at length betrayed,
Must whelm this sham detected,
But what may be expected
From "Honour" shame-infected,
And "Kingship" in the shade?

* * * * *

THE RAVENSTEIN.

[Mr. RAVENSTEIN, at the British Association, considered
the question, how long it will be before the world becomes
over-populated.]

_Punch to the Prophet_.