The original word was probably
"Kosmik." (_The lecture was still proceeding when our Reporter left,
the dryness of the subject having unfortunately affected his throat._)
* * * * *
[Illustration: A CONNOISSEUR.
_Sir Pompey Bedell._ "THIS BOTTLE OF ROMANEE-CONTI SEEMS RATHER
CLOUDY, BROWN! IT _OUGHT_ TO BE ALL RIGHT. I KNOW IT STANDS ME IN
_TWELVE GUINEAS A DOZEN!_"
_The New Butler._ "THERE CERTAINLY _HIS_ SOME SEDIMENT, SIR POMPEY;
BUT IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE WHATEVER! I TRIED A BOTTLE OF IT _MYSELF_
THE OTHER DAY, AND FOUND IT FIRST-RATE!"]
* * * * *
"WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?"
["The 'tehorni narod'--the inconceivably ill-used, patient,
long-suffering 'black people,' as the moujiks of White
Russia are grimly denominated by their rulers--are dying by
thousands, of sheer starvation, without a hand being stretched
out by the 'Tchin' to rescue them from the greedy jaws of
Death."--_Daily Telegraph_.
The moujiks are remonstrating and even rebelling in
consequence.]
"Little Father," we have suffered long, and sorrowed,
We the "children" of the wonderful White Tsar,
Steadfast patience from staunch loyalty have borrowed,
Slaved for Slavdom still in Peace, and died in War;
We have borne the yoke of power, and its abuses,
We have trusted cells and shackles served their turn;
Nay, that e'en the ruthless knout had noble uses;
Now we starve--and think--and burn.
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