Volume 25 — A BISHOP ON "THINGS SOLID."

The Bishop of Oxford and Oil-cum-Honey made a beautiful speech at the Mansion House in favour of the Albert Memorial. Never did tongue talk more silverly for bronze. Nevertheless, there is a passage in the episcopal harangue—(let us not forget to observe, it is reported of the Bishop that in his guilelessness he is wholly unaware of the road from Oxford to Lambeth)—a passage relating to "things solid" that somewhat puzzles us. Samuel of Oxford observed (and Mr. Samuel Carter Hall, who, he said, "represented the artists," smiled and applauded the words) that—

"It is of the very nature of things solid that, instead of being borne along upon the surface of the stream of time, they sink gradually down beneath its waters; and, therefore, with regard to this great fact—and a great fact I hold it to have been—if any memorial is to be raised at all, I think it should be raised while yet the memory of its greatness holds its true place in the impression of those by whom it was witnessed."

Because, if Prince Albert has not a monument in bronze to remind the short memory of human nature that there was once a Crystal Palace in Hyde Park, the recollection of that great fact, being a "thing solid," will gradually sink down into the waters of oblivion. Just as, doubtless, we should have forgotten Waterloo and its results, if certain ladies of England had not set up a statue of Wellington acting Achilles in Hyde Park. Well, we have a notion that the best and most enduring monument to the memory of the fleeting Crystal Palace in the Park will be provided by the enduring glory, even at the present time, crowning Sydenham Hill.

We have the greatest admiration of the intellectual subtleties of the Bishop of Oxford. Like an olive, his nature secretes its own oil. Nevertheless, we should have liked to hear other bishops upon "things solid." Where was the Bishop of London? Is it possible that any churchman can speak upon better authority, from deeper experience of "things solid," than the teacher of Fulham? Why, then, was the chief power of illustrations of the "solids" of this life merely required of Samuel of Oxon? Moreover, Prince Albert is, it seems, to have the statue: and among the alto-reliefs will, doubtless, be Challis reading his patent of baronetcy.

The thing is decided upon. So gentlemen, unbutton your pockets; and down with the pounds—the "things solid," if we mistake not, Bishop of Oxford.

TWO PORTRAITS OF THE CZAR.

In the well-known Letters from the Baltic, Nicholas is thus drawn in pen and ink—

"His face is strictly Grecian—forehead and nose is one grand line; the eyes finely lined, large, open, and blue, with a calmness, a coldness, a freezing dignity, which can equally quell an insurrection, daunt an assassin, or paralyse a petitioner: the mouth regular, teeth fine, chin prominent, with dark moustache and small whisker; but not a sympathy in his face. His mouth sometimes smiled, his eyes never."

Mr. Punch, having studied the Czar in his works, is disposed to put forth another sketch; as thus—

His face is strictly all cheek: forehead and nose one grand roundabout curve; the eyes large, open, round, and expressive as a cannon's mouth; cannon that can quell an insurrection, or slaughter innocence; the mouth curved and significant as a scimitar; teeth large and prominent as chevaux-de-frise; the face altogether a national death-warrant. The mouth, like scimitar steel, sometimes glistens—the eyes never.

Mutual Wrongs.

"We have no Windsor"—says, very mournfully, the Earl of Eglington—"no Buckingham Palace, no St. James's, no Kensington, no Hampton Court."

Mr. Punch begs to mingle his tears with the tears of the noble Earl, Mr. Punch the while lamenting as an Englishman that—"We have no cockaleekie—no haggis—no singed sheep's-head—no bagpipes!"

Grumbling for Farmers.

The late fine weather has enabled us to get the wheat into the ground, which the previous rains threatened to prevent. Agricultural prospects thus present a hopeful appearance; but then, by reason of the extent of land sown, a great many fields must be in a state of seediness.

Ladies' Mouths.—An old beau says: "A Lady's mouth never looks so beautiful as when she is pronouncing the word 'Yes.'"