_Mrs. Britannia_ (_effusively_). And now, my dear children, do you
know the meaning of Imperial Federation?
_Australia_ (_promptly_). Yes, dear Mamma. We are all to live as a
happy family.
_Mrs. Brit._ (_fondly_). Quite right, sweetest. And can you tell me
how this is to be managed?
_Canada_ (_with decision_). By mutual defence, dear Mamma.
_Mrs. Brit._ (_smilingly_). My love, your answer is quite correct. And
how shall we manage this mutual defence?
_Cape Colony_ (_in a business-like manner_). By providing all sorts of
things, dear Mamma.
_Mrs. Brit._ (_proudly_). Very good, little HOPE; you are always ready
with an answer. And now, can any of you tell me what those things will
be?
_India_ (_without hesitation_). Money, and coal and gunpowder, dear
Mamma.
_Mrs. Brit._ (_affectionately_). Certainly, darling; you have given
exactly the proper reply. And now, will not all this cost a large sum
of money?
_Tasmania_ (_with much decision_). A very large sum of money, dear
Mamma--an immense sum, dear Mamma.
_Mrs. Brit._ (_kindly_). Yes, my child, you are perfectly right. And
now, my cherished daughters, one more question. Who will have to pay
for all this expense? (_A pause._) Why, surely you know? (_Continued
silence._) Who will have to find the money to secure this Imperial
Federation?
_All Britannia's Daughters_ (_together_). Why you, dear Mamma!
_Mrs. Brit._ (_fondling them_). Darlings!
[_Scene closes in upon a picture very dear to Tax-payers._
* * * * *
The Heathen Chinee in the House.
(_New Nursery Rhyme for Unionists._)
[Mr. LABOUCHERE recently presented a petition in the Chinese
characters.]
LAB-BI, the cynic and cold,
Was blackest sheep in the Liberal fold.
He mocked the Old Man's eloquent tags,
And let the cats out of all his bags;
And when the cats ran loose, said he
"I wonder how _that_ suits dear G!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: "To-night is ours!"]