the sentence; "Learn, then, that I live at the bottom of a well, to
which rather damp resting-place I am about to return; and that in
England I am called Truth."

And as the lady disappeared, _Mr. Punch_ fell from his chair, and
awoke!

"Dear me, I have been dreaming!" exclaimed the Sage, as he left
the meeting. "Well, as everyone knows, dreams are not in the least
like reality! But the strangest thing of all was to find Truth in a
Congress!"

And it was strange, indeed.

* * * * *

AT THE THEATRE!

_THE LYCEUM AGAIN. THE HAYMARKET ONCE MORE._

"Great Scott!" we exclaim,--not Critical CLEMENT of that ilk, but Sir
WALTER,--on again seeing _Ravenswood_. Since then an alteration in
the _modus shootendi_ has been made, and _Edgar_ no longer takes a
pot-shot at the bull from the window, but, ascertaining from _Sir
William Ashton Bishop_ that _Ellen Lucy Terry_ is being Terryfied by
an Irish bull which has got mixed up with the Scotch "herd without,"
_Henry Edgar Irving_ rushes off, gun in hand; then the report of the
gun is, like the Scotch oxen, also "_heard_ without," and _Henry_
reappears on the scene, having saved _Ellen Lucy Ashton_ by reducing
the fierce bull to potted beef.