Woes of the Commissioner.

For windy talk and inflated Jingoism, Mr. John Holmes, "Government Commissioner," is developing powers that bid fair to better the example of his master. On Wednesday a meeting of Mayors of the suburban boroughs was called to consider matters relating to the erection in the city of an arch by the suburban local bodies. Only two of the summoned municipal functionaries attended; the others, probably hearing that they would have to endure the loyal oratory of Mr. Holmes, stayed away. These facts having transpired at this meeting of three, "Mr. Holmes rose up," says the report, "and smote the delinquent boroughs hip and thigh."—Evening Post.

Ensuing Correspondence.
Here am I, Great Cæsar's Ghost!
Held up to ridicule by the Post,
Charged with being a blatherskite windy,
Just because I kicked up a shindy
In order to get from the Suburbs an arch
Under which the Duke might march.

I certainly smote them hip and thigh,
And figuratively blacked their eye,
For hanging back when the moment came
And putting forward excuses lame
As pretexts for their lack of loyalty—
Under the very nose of Royalty.

See how they treat your servant, Master,
When he tries to avert disaster
In this city, where every wind
Changes the state of the public mind,
And editors are trying, it seems to me,
To bring the Crown into jeopardy.

Did I not get by appointing warrant
The right to jaw like a raging torrent
All sorts of high-falutin' and bosh
Whenever I saw the chance to squash
Persons who say it's a criminal waste
Of money to spend it in tinsel and paste?

Surely your chosen Commission Agent,
Who's helpin' to shove along the pageant,
Should be protected from such abuse,
Expressions so vulgar, offensive, and loose,
So tell me, pray, what you intend to do
To squelch this unpatriotic crew.

J. H.

The Reply.
You're raising too much noise,
And making all the boys
Shake with laughter from the north unto the south.
So I only wish you'd learn
The best way your screw to earn
Is to keep a tighter hold upon your mouth.

R. J. S.