Volume 100 — A DREAMY MADNESS.

The other night I went to bed,— It may seem strange, but still I did it,— And laid to rest my weary head So that the bed-clothes nearly hid it; Which was perhaps the reason why My brain throughout the night was teeming With truly wondrous sights, and I Was wholly given o'er to dreaming. 'Twas on the Twenty-first of May, The streets were filled to overflowing, The streets, that in a curious way Were clean although it kept on snowing. The daily papers for a change Came out each day without a leader, But, what was surely rather strange, They didn't lose a single reader! I saw a Bishop in a tram, Although he knew it was a Sunday; The lion lay down with the lamb, And CLEMENT SCOTT with SYDNEY GRUNDY. Professor HUXLEY said, "In truth I'm really sick to death of rows," and Wrote there and then to General BOOTH To put his name down for a thousand. I heard that Mr. PARNELL wrote (Much to McCARTHY's jubilation) A very kind and civil note, In which he sent his resignation; Whilst ANDREW LANG with weary air Professed himself completely staggered To think how anyone could care To read a line of RIDER HAGGARD. The House of Commons talked about The case of Mr. BRADLAUGH—whether The Motion which has kept him out Should now be struck out altogether; And OLD MORALITY arose To say they felt no ancient animus, And when they voted, why of Noes There wasn't one—they were unanimous! I started up, no more to sleep, The dream somehow had seemed to spoil it, Nor did it take me long to leap Out of my bed and make my toilet. I went down-stairs, and with surprise I thought of those my dream had slandered, And there, before my very eyes, I saw it printed in the STANDARD! I wish I hadn't gone to bed. I can't imagine why I did it. Nor why I laid my weary head So that the clothes completely hid it. Although I think that must be why My brain has ever since been teeming; But tell me (if you can) am I At present mad, or was I dreaming?