_Rouge_--there I see my way, JOHN.
But _Noir_--thet's hard to front!
It wun't be no child's play, JOHN,
Seven million Nigs to shunt.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
We've a hard row," sez he,
"To hoe just now, but thet, somehow,
I fancy, friend J.B.,
Your _Times_ may leave to _me_!"

[_Left considering it._

* * * * *


WELCOME BACK!

[Mr. SANTLEY, who has been long absent in Australia,
reappeared at St. James's Hall on Jan. 19, and was received
with great enthusiasm.]

Back from your Australian trip!
_Punch_, my CHARLES, your fist must grip.
You have lighted on a time
When we're all chill, choke, and grime.
'Twere no marvel, O great baritone,
Did you find your voice had nary tone.
But there's none like you can sing
"_To Anthea_," "_The Erl-King_."
SCHUBERT, GOUNOD, English HATTON,