THE SEVERE WEATHER.

(From Mr. Punch's Very Special Correspondents.)

Reports from all parts of the country are eloquent of the phenomenal nature of the weather experienced everywhere. By an extraordinary coincidence, of which it is hardly possible to make too much, the intense cold has been accompanied by a lowness of temperature—on the (Fahren) height.

The Oldest Inhabitant has had a high old time, and been in immense form. To prevent the extinction in future years of this interesting individual, oxen have been roasted freely, and, wherever at all practicable, carriages have been driven over frozen rivers. Occasionally irreverent descendants have roasted the Oldest Inhabitant.

It is reported, on the authority of Lord Salisbury, that the Liberal Party intend at once to engage in snowballing the House of Lords. As the ex-Prime Minister has promised to play the game with no lack of mutuality, interesting developments are expected.

A very remarkable occurrence comes from abroad—considerations of an international character make it advisable not to particularise further. A bishop went out in the middle of a raging blizzard. Although the bishop was suitably attired in episcopal dress, so that no mistake as to his identity was possible, it went on blizzarding, and the spiritual dignitary was put to extreme temporal temporary inconvenience.

Ice floes have penetrated to London Bridge. Mr. Seymour Hicks's topical song in the Shop Girl—"Oh, floe! ice and snow, you know"—is received every night with even greater enthusiasm than formerly.

The following letter will NOT appear in an early number of The Spectator:—

ANIMAL SAGACITY.

Dear Sir,—I desire to draw your attention to what I think I may fairly describe as a wonderful instance of animal sagacity. During the recent severe frost a large number of birds and rabbits were fed every day in my garden. On Friday, for the first time, I noticed a fine hare, which, from its appearance, evidently felt the cold bitterly. I fed it, but shivering set in, and pained by its suffering (for I have a kind heart) I took it into the kitchen. Half-an-hour afterwards the cook came to tell me that the kitchen-maid was in hysterics. I went down and found out the reason—the girl had been frightened, when taking up a large jug which stood on the ground, to find the hare in it! The hare, poor thing, preferred a warm death to a cold existence, but, denied the possibility of human speech, had taken this graphic way of indicating its wishes. I have only to add that they were respected at dinner yesterday.

Yours faithfully,

Peil Iton.

Stickiton Rectory.

Mem.—It would not be logical to conclude that Sir Arthur Sullivan is a good cricketer because of his capital scores.

An Expensive Call to Pay.—A Call to the Bar.