AFTER Mr. James T. F-lds's paper upon the Poet Laureate had been read, the Quizzical Club did not meet for several weeks. It was thought, on the whole, not best They were afraid lest the poet should return unexpectedly; besides, Mr. F-lds's shocking revelation had produced an unwonted feeling of depression. But at last an event occurred which stirred the club to its very depths. Charles Shirts, that emissary of evil, had actually been tendered a dinner (think of it!) in Boston, the home of the Poncas and the Daily Evening Tramp. A meeting was immediately called by the chairman, Mr. Alson Broncott; the President of Haverford College was expelled from the club for his offensive remarks at that dinner; and the club unanimously decided to hold an anti-Shirts gathering. The editor of the Tramp said that she would bear all expenses, if every member of the club would send in a year's subscription to her paper; whereat George Fr-nc-s

Train suggested that they had better hire a club undertaker at once, - a form of statement which very nearly disturbed the harmony of the meeting. But the editor smiled so prettily upon every one that she finally carried the day, and even pacified George F. T.

THE DINNER.The company gathered promptly at six o'clock in the parlors of the Brunswick, and fifteen minutes later filed into the elegant dining-hall. A full list of the guests (including M-ses K-ng, 1881) will be published in the next Resister. Governor Short, the eminent translator of TYBILS, the great Ponca epic, was invited to preside. On his right sat Miss Dark Eyes, on his left the editor of the Tramp; while Mr. Shirts (in effigy) held the position of honor opposite. After ample justice had been done to the excellent menu, the chairman called the company to order, and after an address of welcome, called upon Miss Dark Eyes for an account of her grievances. Miss Dark Eyes said : -

"Me hatee Shirts. He one bad man. He drive us to Boston. We no likee dat. Me hatee Shirts. He one bad man."

At the conclusion of this simple and affecting tale, there was not a dry eye in the room. As soon as the chairman could speak, he called upon their guest from over the water, the distinguished scientist, Mr. H-xley; who, leering facetiously at the Reverend Joseph C-k, arose with some difficulty and addressed the assembly : -

" 'Friends, I come not here to talk.' [Applause.] I know a good deal about the sun and the moon; I can understand how, in the course of a few millions of years, the earth will go to the dogs [groans]; I can understand the books which my friend Mr. C-k has written [prolonged cheering]; but I can't understand Mr. Shirts's Indian policy. I tell you, gentlemen, that in him are evolution, and protoplasm, and Darwinism complete." [Laughter and applause.]

"We have with us," continued the chairman, "a distinguished senator from New York, who, I know, will address us in a speech replete with sound arguments. I call upon Mr. C-nkling." The senator then rose and said : -

"Gentlemen, doubtless you feel flattered by my presence among you. I hate Hays; I hate Shirts; I intend to run Jimmy G. That is all." [Faint applause.]

The chairman looked disappointed as the honorable senator sat down; and so, somewhat dejectedly, he called upon Mr. Algernon Charles Sw-nburne as an antidote, who immediately read the following beautiful poem : -

UNCLEAN LINEN.

In the time of the roses, sophistical Shirts

(Oh, that ruby-red roses should languish!)

Contrived for the Poncas - that's where the shoe hurts -

The most inexcusable anguish.

For the violets were dead as a herring, and so