Volume 109 — THE LAST OF MOWGLI.

["The Man-pack do not love jungle-tales."—Rudyard Kipling in the P. M. G. of Sept. 26.]

SACRED To the Memory of MOWGLI, Alias Little Frog, Manling, Nathoo, and Master of the Jungle, Who, After lingering on in columns of print, Came to a Doubtful End In a series of Asterisks in an Evening Paper, And in the Paws of Baloo. He was Of Uncertain Parentage, Of Unprincipled Character, Of Carnivorous and generally Unpleasant Habits, And, Though he had one or two Good Points, On the whole may be described As A thorough-paced Young Rascal. He had (In common with the rest of the Jungle-People) A curious and somewhat incomprehensible style of expressing HIMSELF In Metaphors and Master-words, Which After a bit Rather got on one's Nerves, unless, of course, You like that sort of thing. He was, however, Considered by some to be Good Copy, And, as such, His Temporary Extinction Is mourned by his Sorrowing Editors and Publishers. He will probably reappear At a later date In three-and-sixpenny book-form, Where we wish HIM All possible success and a few elucidatory FOOTNOTES.

And now, In the words of the Panther Bagheera, Is the Time of New Talk.

Daring Prophecy.—When it happens, it will be remembered how Mr. P.'s own prophet said of the retirement of President Faure, that it was "a Faure-gone conclusion." Verb. sap.

Note.—That Russia was to be allowed to occupy Port Arthur seems to have been a Port-"Arthurian legend."