BISMARCK'S insolence is really becoming dangerous. He can deny and
contradict the statements made by other Counts, Ambassadors, Kings, or
by himself, without its becoming a matter of sufficient importance to
interest us. Such giving and taking the lie is a part of the business of
persons of this kidney. But he has actually had the audacity to deny the
truthfulness of the report by RUSSELL to the _Times_ of a conversation
held between them. If this thing is not checked in the bud, he will next
be denying--his conversation! with the _Tribune_ "special," as reported
by that ubiquitous observer. What will there be for the world to
believe, if it loses faith in the truthfulness of the papers?
* * * * *
A Con. for the Vatican.
Why is VICTOR EMMANUEL like a tomahawk? Because he is now said to be "a
tool in the hands of the Reds."
* * * * *
THE "LOUDEST" OF SUNDAYS "SWELLS." The Swell of the Church organ.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE PRIZE CALF "S. L. WOODFORD," FATTENED UP BY MESSRS.
GREELY AND CURTIS FOR THE SPECIAL PURPOSE OF BEING CUT UP ON TUESDAY,
NOVEMBER 8TH.]
* * * * *
"DOST KNOW ME?"
Composed by our Special Dangerous Lunatic in one of his Lucid
Intervals.
Dost know me? dost know me? was all the maiden said,
As she streamed her golden tresses through the half-unkneaden bread,
While the sunset light came sheening athwart the oaken floor,
And the Headsman chanted his roundelay at the soul-beshriven door.
Dost know me? dost know me? rang o'er the heather wild,
While the dew-drop lifted its golden head, and the hoary bull-frog
smiled;
Yet every eye was dim with tears, as the shadow of Time replied,
And the echo from over the moorland drear,
In cloistered glory and voice of cheer,
Silently welcomed the Bride.
"Dost know me? dost know me?" and a soul from out the gloom
Welcomed the rippling brooklet flowing past the tomb,
Gilding the steeples, near and far, with a dusk and dimsome spleen,
Tipping with crest of golden fire
Each mighty CAESAR'S funeral pyre
In its wealth of golden sheen.
"Dost know me? dost know me?"--eftsoones the answer came
From the lips of the lady with blonden hair like a wreath of golden
flame,
As she lifted the light of her beauteous eyes to the questioning
lips of the knight,
And muttered those words of import dire,
And flashed her eyes with a baleful fire--
Alas! did he hear aright?
"I know thee! I know thee! for thou art the Khouli Khan,
And I am the Empress of Allahabad, or any other man,
Then turtle soup may lift its crest o'er the stars in the twilight dim,
Ere I, an Empress of regions fair,
With a halo of succulent blonden hair,
Elope with a Khouli grim."
Ah me! 'twas sad, and a gruesome night, when the maiden fair said, "No!"
And gave response to the Knight's demand in accents sweetly low.