Chapter 3

Mrs. GILWATTLE'S _ear_.

_Mrs. Gilw._ Eh? You're tickling my ear, child--don't come so close. Louder. Yes, go on. "Sat next to him at dinner?" _Well_, what _about_ him?... _What?_... What's the child talking about now?... "A gentleman out of BLANKLEY'S shop"!! "Hired for the evening"!!! Let her alone, MARIA, _I_ know who's telling the truth! So _this_ is your precious Nobleman, is it? Oh, the _deceit_ of it all!

[_The door opens, and_ Uncle GABRIEL _enters, clinging affectionately to_ Lord STRATHSPORRAN'S _arm_.

_Uncle Gab._ And when I take a fancy to a young fellow, my Lord, I don't allow any social prejudices to stand in the way. I should say just the same if you were a mere nobody. We ought to see _more_ of one another. I should esteem it a distinguished favour if you'd honour me and my wife by dropping in to a little dinner some evening; no ceremony; just a few quiet pleasant people like ourselves. We'll see if we can't fix a day with my wife.

[_He steers him across to_ Mrs. GILWATTLE.

_Lord Strath._ (_to himself_). Now, how the deuce am I going to get out of _this_? And what have they done with MARJORY?

_Uncle Gab._ JOANNA, my love, I've been telling his Lordship here how delighted and honoured we should be to see him at dinner some----

[Mrs. GILWATTLE _rises slowly, bristling with indignation, and glares speechlessly at the unconscious_ Lord STRATHSPORRAN, _while_ Mrs. TIDMARSH _vainly attempts to appease her, as her husband and the other men enter. Tableau._

_End of Scene X._

* * * * *

"At the Window."

In dull days of sensational horrors, and wild would-be humorous hums, What delight to fly darkness, and watch the "Auld Licht," from "_A Window in Thrums_"! Let pessimists potter and pule, and let savages slaughter and harry; Give me _Hendry_, and _Tammas_, and _Jess_, and a smile, and a tear born of BARRIE.

* * * * *

"The French," says Mrs. R., "have been shown up in a very queer light by all these Panama candles."

* * * * *

THE HOUSE THAT BILL (SYKES) BURGLED.

(Namely, that of Messrs. WALTER CROSS & CO., Jewellers, 8, Holywell Street, Strand, as narrated in the _Times_ of the 16th inst.)

This is the House that BILL burgled.

This is the window, plastered with brown-paper and treacle, and then broken, belonging to the House that BILL burgled.

This is the rope-ladder, attached to the window, plastered with brown-paper and treacle, &c.

This is the show-case, reached by way of the rope-ladder attached to the window, plastered with brown-paper and treacle, &c.

This is the "burglar-alarm," lately connected with the show-case, reached by way of the rope-ladder, attached to the window, &c.

This is the bell that belonged to the "burglar-alarm," lately connected with the show-case, &c.

This is the wire that rang the bell, that belonged to the "burglar-alarm," lately connected with the show-case, &c.

This is the telephone that communicated with Bloomsbury, set in motion by the bell, rung by the wire, &c.

This is the dog who barked at the bell, agitated by the telephone that communicated with Bloomsbury, &c.

This is the man unshaven, unshorn, aroused from his sleep in the early morn by the dog who barked at the bell, &c.

These are the "Bobbies," all forlorn, called on by the man unshaven, unshorn, aroused from his sleep in the early morn, by the dog who barked at the bell, &c.

And this is the burglar, smiling in scorn, who escaped by the rope-ladder, window-sill-borne, and evaded the Bobbies all forlorn, called on by the man, unshaven, unshorn, aroused from his sleep in the early morn, by the dog who barked at the bell, agitated by the telephone, set in motion by the wire, attached to the burglar-alarm, connected with the show-case, reached by way of the rope-ladder, hooked to the window, plastered with brown-paper and treacle, belonging to the House that BILL burgled.

* * * * *

SUGGESTIONS FOR RIDE PARK.

"Many improvements," the _Daily News_ writes, "in the arrangement of the Parks in the West End" have been made. Have they? Perhaps visible to the eye assisted by _Mr. Weller's_ "pair o' patent double million magnifyin' gas microscopes of hextra power." But why, for the hundredth time we ask, and every equestrian asks as well, why aren't rides made across Kensington Gardens from Princes' Gate to Bayswater? Beautiful rides they would be under the trees, and thus varying the wearisome monotony of the round and round squirrel-in-a-cage sort of routine exercise, to which the Rotten-Row Riders are purgatorially bound. Also, why not a ride right across Hyde Park from the Achilles Statue to an exit facing about Albion Street, Bayswater? What difficulties can there be which a First Commissioner of Works representing an actively Liberal and Progressive policy could not carry out for the benefit of the Mounted Liver Brigade and the Light Cavalry?

* * * * *

Old Father Thames is still rather dirty. We often hear of "The Thames Basin." Why doesn't Father Thames use it,--with soap? What a chance here for a P**rs' advertisement.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A BIG LION AMONG THE LITTLE 'UNS.

"Daniel in the Lions' Den" will occur to many on reading how HENRY IRVING ventured into and actually dined as the distinguished guest of a society styling itself "The Playgoers' Club." But after all, whether these were real leonine cubs, or only "lions stuffed with straw," the Real Lion of the evening was the Daniel come to Judgment, HENRY IRVING, who, having partaken of the "chicken and champagne," and acknowledged the goodness thereof, gave them the less smooth side of his own tongue with charming frankness.

"I do not hesitate to tell you," purred the Lion, sweetly, "that there have been times when the genius of frankness which possesses the Club"--he did not allude to the existence among them of any other sort of genius--"has not appeared to be allied with the finest discrimination. (_Laughter._)"

Yes--the poor little Lions laughed--it was all they could do, unless they had whimpered, and promised not to offend again. It must have been a delightful evening. To what other banquets will our leading Histrion be invited? To the Pittites' Club Dinner? To the Wreckers' Banquet? Will he be entertained by the Dissentient Gallery-Boys' Club, and finish up with a supper strictly confined to the upper Circles' Society? Instead of "Give your orders, Gents--the Waiter's in the room!" of old days, the Chairman will probably advise the enterprising Playgoers to "Ask for 'orders,' Gents--the Manager's in the room." However, if these heaven-born dramatic critics occasionally hear a few words of good advice from so honest a guest as HENRY IRVING, such gatherings may perhaps serve some useful purpose.

* * * * *

Gladstone's Aside on the Irish Members.

You are, in faith, like women--divil doubt you!-- For "there's no living with you, or without you."

* * * * *

VERY BAD DRAINAGE.--Because the London School Board built schools with defective drainage, the London Ratepayers are to be mulcted in L250,000. A nice drain this on our pockets!

* * * * *

THE POLITE SPEAKER.

(_Intended for the use of courteous Members of Parliament._)

_Question._ I trust you quite acknowledge that strong language is absolutely unnecessary in Westminster?

_Answer._ Quite, especially when a compensating description can be found for every suitable term of abuse.

_Q._ You grasp the idea. How would you describe NERO fiddling during the burning of Rome?

_A._ I should say that he was a musician with a turn for pleasing variations.

_Q._ Very good. And how would you speak of GUY FAUX on the eve of blowing up the House of Commons?

_A._ An experimentalist who would have been a useful lecturer upon chemistry at the Royal Institution.

_Q._ And could you refer to _Blue Beard_ after the discovery of the cause of his last widowerhood without giving offence?

_A._ Yes; as a married man who objected on principle to the Mormon practice of being wedded to more than one wife at a time.

_Q._ Yes. And what would you say of MARIE DE MEDICIS, who is reported to have fired at the Huguenots from the Louvre?

_A._ I should say that her late Majesty took such an interest in field sports, as nowadays would have secured her election to the Gun Club.

_Q._ And, lastly, were you asked to describe HENRY THE EIGHTH after he had slaughtered most of his wives, plundered all the monasteries, and imprisoned or executed many of his subjects, what would you call him?

_A._ Without hesitation I should refer to him as "an excited politician."

* * * * *

"CONTINUOUS-SOUNDING MACHINES."--Lots of 'em on view in the House of Commons. But, for the genuine article, consult a "Colomb" of the _Times_.

* * * * *

"I love those cradle-songs," said Mrs. R. "The other day I heard--I forget who it was--sing a most charming _alibi_."

* * * * *

* * * * *

TO SERAPHINE.

Through happy years, that number now I ween A dozen, or--to be correct--thirteen, My comfortable better-half you've been, O SERAPHINE!

The ups and downs of life we two have seen-- From Camberwell, of stucco-fronted mien, To quaintly-decorated Turnham Green, O SERAPHINE!

Till Grandma's money came with golden sheen, You lent a hand at SARAH'S weekly clean, And did not tilt your nose at margarine, O SERAPHINE!

And now that I've been made a Rural Dean, Your figure is no longer slim, my Queen; You'd scarcely make a graceful _ballerine_, O SERAPHINE!

But after dinner as you doze each e'en, From your disjointed mutterings I glean Your mind is running on a crinoline, O SERAPHINE!

Oh, let me not appear to speak with spleen-- Yet pause!--nor go to Madame ANTONINE To get yourself a--_you know what I mean_, O SERAPHINE!

For if that huge and hideous machine Should thrust its bilious bulginess between A blameless couple, such as we have been, My SERAPHINE,

I will not condescend to make a "scene," But--if you needs _must_ have your crinoline-- Good-bye!--you cannot have your Rural Dean, O SERAPHINE!

* * * * *

DER COPHETUALISCHEHOCHZEITVEREIN.

["In Vienna a Club has been formed among young men of fashion for the encouragement of marriage with poor girls."--_James Payn, in "Illustrated News."_]

O youth of Wien, what does this mean? Can you forget you are All _hochgeboren_ as of yore Was King COPHETUA?

To wed a lot of girls _sans dot_ Is strange, and yet you are No more afraid of beggar maid Than King COPHETUA.

But if you break the vow you take, And dowries get, you are A thousand pound to forfeit bound, Which beats COPHETUA.

So you by stealth can't marry wealth, Not if in debt you are; But, as we see, resemble the Late King COPHETUA.

O men elsewhere, Mammas declare How hard to net you are! You can't be led poor girls to wed Like King COPHETUA.

Consider, then, these noble men, And you'll regret you are Unmarried still, and quickly will Do like COPHETUA!

* * * * *

PUT A STOP TO IT!--A Correspondent, signing himself "O'NOODLE," asks, "What does this mean? See Cook's _Guide-Book to Paris_, page 23:--'Visitors should take the precautions against pickpockets recommended by the Administration.'" A comma or a dash after "precautions," and another after "pickpockets," or put pickpockets into brackets--handcuff 'em, in fact--and then O'NOODLE will get at the sense of the paragraph.

* * * * *

A DOLE-FUL PROSPECT.

_Easter._--Wonder what the effect of the BISHOP'S appeal to the "loyal laity," to come down heavily with Easter Offerings to the Clergy, will be? Rather an exciting day for me. Hard-up is not the word for my condition at present. Can't keep myself, and have to keep a Gardener and a Curate!

A lot of cast-off clothes arrive from "A SYMPATHETIC PARISHIONER!" How degrading! Wish BISHOP OF WORCESTER hadn't said that he knew a Clergyman who stayed in bed because he had no decent clothes to wear. Congregation seem to think he meant _me_! Two blankets, and a rig-out of "Cellular under-clothing," from "CHURCH DEFENCE," addressed to "Our Beloved but Impoverished Incumbent." Quite insulting! Give blankets to Gardener, and send the Cellular things to Curate, as his tendencies are distinctly monastic.

Letter from a Newmarket Bookmaker! Says he hears I'm in want of Easter Offerings, so he offers to "put me on to a good thing for the Derby." I am, apparently, to forward him a L5 note, and he returns me L50 "without fail." Tempting, but haven't got a L5 note to send.

Arrival at my quiet Vicarage of a donkey, a cow, two pigs, and a dozen barndoor fowls! Perhaps, in honour of the pigs, I might call this a "sow Easter!" The whole menagerie sent by neighbouring farmers. Wish they'd send me arrears of rent for glebe instead; yet I daren't ask for them. Evidently intended as Easter "gifts in kind;" but not the kind I want. Send donkey on to Curate, and tether cow in back-yard, not having a field. Pigs temporarily accommodated in back kitchen. Cook threatens to give notice.

Church. Offertory goes to _me_ to-day! Don't half like it. Feel like a schoolboy expecting to be tipped. Curate rather glum. Finds he thinks my sending the donkey to him was meant to insult him. When I assure him it wasn't, he cheers up, and says he'll hold the plate. Does so. Seems very heavy. Curate distinctly winks at me, which is against the Rubrics, no doubt, but still seems to be an augury of happy tidings about the sum collected. On his way to Vestry, Curate whispers to me "Two-fifty!" What does he mean? Is it two fifty pounds, or shillings? It's neither--it's _pence_! Really, if this is all the "loyal laity" can do, I may as well disestablish myself.

Best Easter Offering of all comes by post. Offer of position as Under-Cashier in a firm of eminent Bone-boilers. Write to accept offer with thanks. Better to boil bones for other people than to have all the flesh taken off my own.

* * * * *

THE NEW COINAGE.

Art will now adorn our purses, Hitherto an artless place; More than pictures, songs, or verses, This should elevate the race.

Is it safe to be prophetic? Will the miser, once abused, Be considered quite aesthetic, With the connoisseur confused?

Will the banker, grown artistic, Talk a jargon new and strange? Will this feeling, subtle, mystic, Even reach the Stock Exchange?

Will it from the City banish Dress that artists should eschew? Will the hallowed "topper" vanish, And the frock-coat fade from view?

Will the cabman now be willing, After driving half a mile, To accept a high-art shilling, Not with oaths, but with a smile?

Will the porter at the station While his thanks pause on his lip, Gaze in silent admiration At the beauty of his tip?

"Music hath," so CONGREVE stated, "Charms to soothe the savage breast"; Numismatic art is fated May be to be likewise blest.

* * * * *

NAILED!

(_Lord Dufferin and the Gallic Vermin._)

[At the Annual Dinner of the British Chamber of Commerce in Paris, Lord DUFFERIN took occasion to refer trenchantly, but temperately, to the long series of calumnies lately directed against him by certain sections of the French Press.]

Yes, DUFFERIN, yes, the Reptile Press Is not confined to realms Teutonic. You squelch it--could you well do less?-- With an urbanity fine, ironic. France is too chivalrous, too polite, To back these crawlers, venomous, "varment"!-- But our Ambassador does quite right To--brush them lightly from his garment.

* * * * *

A "Plucky" Answer.

_Q._ Who was PROCRUSTES? What was the Bed of PROCRUSTES?

_A._ He was an ancient philosopher who never would get up in the morning. Hence the word for a person who puts off or delays; viz., "One who Procrustinates."

* * * * *

THE WHITTINGTON RECORD BROKEN.--"Mr. HURST," _The Athenaeum_ gossip informs us, "has been four times Mayor of Bedford." He ought to be perfect in the part, for certainly it has been well _re-hearsed_.

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, February 13._--House filled from floor to topmost range of gallery. Terrible rumour that it is also peopled underneath. Members sitting on two front benches evidently restless through opening passages of Mr. G.'s speech. Weird whispering heard, apparently rising from boots of FIRST LORD of the TREASURY. GRANDOLPH pricks up his ears; fancies he recognises voice familiar in Harley Street. First thought, whispered commentary must come from Ladies' Gallery. Right Hon. Gentlemen look up, and conclude it is too remote. Besides, Ladies _never_ talk in the Gallery.

"Moreover than which," said FERGUSSON, staring stolidly at open network of iron floor, "it comes from quite different quarter."

Even Mr. G., absorbed as he was with great topic, evidently noticed the odd state of things, for towards end of magnificent speech he dropped his voice right down through the grating into the chamber below, so that Strangers in distant Gallery lost the purport of his words. Above-board--or rather above iron grating--House presented spectacle worthy of occasion. Last time anything like it seen was in April, 1886, when first Home-Rule Bill introduced. Singularly like it this afternoon, with chairs blocking the floor in fashion to which LORD-CHAMBERLAIN, looking down from Peers' Gallery, admitted he would not permit in any other theatre. Side-galleries filled; Members thronging Bar, sharing the steps of SPEAKER'S Chair, peeping round from behind its recess, sitting on the Gangway steps. The Lords' Gallery thronged, with somewhat disorderly fringe of Viscounts jostling each other on the steps. Not an inch of room to spare in the Diplomatic Gallery, whilst happy strangers rose tier beyond tier on the benches behind. Over the clock H.R.H., _debonnaire_ as usual, able to extract fullest pleasure and interest out of passing moment. By his side, his son and heir; not the one who sat there on the April night nine years ago, but the younger brother, with Cousin MAY facing him through the _grille_ of Ladies' Gallery. Many other gaps filled up on floor of House, the biggest those created by the flitting of BRIGHT and PARNELL.

The figure at table answering to Speaker's call, the "FIRST LORD of the TREASURY" is the same, though different. Marvellously little different, considering all that has passed since '86, and remembering the weight of added years when they come on top of fourscore. Scantier the hair, paler the face and more furrowed; but the form still erect, the eye flashing, the right hand beating vigorously, as of yore, on the long-suffering box; the voice even better than it was for a certain period towards close of 1880 Parliament; the mental vision as clear; the fancy as luxuriant; the logic as irresistible; the musical swing of the stately sentences as harmonious. For two hours and a quarter, unfaltering, unfailing, Mr. G. held the unrivalled audience entranced, and sat down amid a storm of cheering, looking almost as fresh as the posy in his button-hole.

_Business done._--Mr. G. introduces Home-Rule Bill.

_Tuesday._--COLONEL SAUNDERSON going about to-day just as if nothing had happened yesterday. _But something did._ Little misunderstanding arose in connection with appropriation of a Seat. The Colonel, of course, in the row at the door of the House, between eleven and noon. Two hundred Members waiting to get in as soon as doors opened. "Nothing like it seen in civilised world since the rush for Oklahoma," says Lord PLAYFAIR, who has been in the United States. "Then, you remember, the intending settlers, gathering from all parts, bivouacked on line marked by military, and on appointed day, at fixed hour, at sound of gun, made the dash into the Promised Land. Lack some of those particulars here. But the passion just the same; equally reckless; every man first, and the Sergeant-at-Arms take the hindmost."

PLAYFAIR himself came down two hours later, intending to take his seat in Peers' Gallery, but, finding another mob at entrance, almost as turbulent, concluded he would not add to the tumult by wrestling with anybody for a place in the front rank. So, meeting a Bishop, who had come down with similar intent and abandoned endeavour from analogous reason, they went for a walk in the Park.

SAUNDERSON not a man of that kind. Thoroughly enjoyed himself for exciting three-quarters of hour. Was in first flight of heated and dishevelled senators who crossed the Bar when door flung open, and elderly Messenger was simultaneously flattened at back of it. SAUNDERSON dropped on to first convenient seat; folded his arms; beginning to view the scene when, like the person in the pastoral poem, "he heard a voice which said,"--"You're sitting on my hat!"

"Well," replied Colonel, genially recognising Irish Member of same Province, but another faith, "now you mention it, I thought I did hear something crunch." On examination, found remains of hat.

"Come out of my seat!" said the other Ulster man.

"Not at all," said the Colonel.

"Then I'll take you!" said the Ulster man.

"Do so," said the Colonel. Ulster man seized Colonel by collar and coat, and tugged violently. Rest of conversation was carried on with the Ulster man lying on his back, at full length, partly under his seat. "There was no hat here when I arrived," said the Colonel.

"Then how did it get there?" said the Ulster man, under the seat.

"That's for you to explain," said the Colonel, politely assisting Ulster man to rise. "If, when a gentleman is taking his seat, an Hon. Member places his hat upon it, accidents will happen."

Ulster man threatens to bring question under notice of SPEAKER. "Begad, I hope he will," said the Colonel, smiling grimly. "If you know the gentleman, TOBY, tell him I'll keep him in hats through Leap Year if he'll only do it. I should like to give the House an unadorned narrative of the incident. JOHN ROCHE'S deer-stealing story would be nothing to it."

_Business done._--Debate on Home-Rule Bill.

_Thursday._--GRANDOLPH back again at old post on Front Opposition Bench. All the Parliamentary world gathered to greet him. H.R.H. in old familiar seat over clock, whence, up to Monday, his pleasant presence had long been missed. Not a seat vacant on floor of House. Galleries crammed, whilst, through _grille_ of Ladies' Gallery, bright eyes rained influence. GRANDOLPH had arranged to resume Debate on Home-Rule Bill; should have come on bright and fresh as soon as questions were over. Meanwhile sat on Front Opposition Bench, awaiting the signal to dash in. Incessantly playing with beard, in fashion that testified to high state of nervousness.

Everything excellently planned, the man, the hour, and the surroundings. Only thing forgotten was the dog--dog, you know, that has a little place down at Epsom, and turns up on course just as the ranged horses are straining at the bit, and the flag is upheld for the fall. On this occasion, Irish dog, of course. Introduced in artfullest way. ESMONDE, mildest-mannered man that ever whipped for Irish party, casually, as if he were inviting him to have a cigarette, asked WOLMER across House whether it was true that he had called Irish Members "forty paid mercenaries"? WOLMER, an equally well-dressed, civil-spoken young man, smilingly admitted that it was quite true he had couched a remark in the terms quoted, but had certainly not meant anything offensive to Irish Members. Indeed, general aspect of noble Lord, and his tone, suggested feeling of surprise that ESMONDE and his friends should not rather have felt complimented by the observation challenged.

This turned out to be polite crossing of swords before duel to the death, a shaking of hands before deadly set-to without gloves. SEXTON suddenly dashed in, and, with back-handed stroke at WOLMER, went for the _Times_ who had adopted and improved upon the Viscount's genial remarks. Assault admirably planned; carried on with irresistible vigour, sweeping down earlier resistance of SPEAKER. Showed what SEXTON can do when so deeply moved as to forget himself, and resist besetting temptation to play the fatal windbag.

An hour-and-half's tussle all round House; at end Irish held the field, and, without dissentient voice, _Times_ article declared to be "gross and scandalous breach of privileges of House."

But the hour and half had passed, and with it RANDOLPH'S chance of supreme success. House of Commons, though greedy for excitement, will never stand two doses in quick succession. After scene like that, which to-night filled House with fire and smoke, anything that follows is anti-climax. It was a cruel fate, which GRANDOLPH bore uncomplainingly, and fought against with quiet courage. Painfully nervous when he broke the silence of two years, the still crowded House had difficulty in catching his opening sentences. But, as he went on, he recovered himself, and regained mastery over an audience evidently eager to welcome his permanent return to position of old supremacy.

_Business done._--The Wanderer returned. Slow music. Air--"_Come, Kill the fatted Calf._"

_Saturday_, 12:50, A.M.--Mr. G. just brought in Home-Rule Bill, amid ringing cheers from Ministerialists, who rise to their feet, and wildly wave their hats as PREMIER passes to table. Been some effective speaking on this last night of Debate. CHAMBERLAIN, BLAKE, and JOHN MORLEY, each excellent in varied way. Only few Members present to hear BODKIN insert maiden speech in dinner-hour. A remarkable effort, distinguished, among other things, by necessity of SPEAKER twice interposing, second time with ominous threat that BODKIN could not be tolerated much longer. BODKIN, resuming thread of his discourse, humbly apologised, kept his eye (BODKIN'S eye) warily on SPEAKER, and, when he saw him preparing to rise for third time, abruptly resumed his seat,--returned hurriedly to the needle-case, so to speak,--and thus avoided worse things.

_Business done._--Home-Rule Bill read a First Time.

* * * * *

REAL "DIPLOMACY."

No doubt of it! A great diplomatic stroke on the part of Mr. JOHN HARE is this revival of _Diplomacy_--_i.e._, SARDOU'S _Dora_ in an English-made dress--at the Garrick Theatre. An unequivocal success (of which more "in our next") on Saturday night for everybody; and, after the Play was over, the audience, inspired by "the gods," called Mr. and Mrs. BANCROFT before the curtain. Mrs. BANCROFT, in the course of an admirable little speech, said, "If I stood here till next week, I should not be able to express all I feel." Now as, by the right time, it was exactly 11:54 P.M. _Saturday night_, this clever lady would certainly _not_ have been able in the time to express all she felt, or to say all she would have liked to say, seeing there were only six minutes left before "next week" began.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE OLD FRENCHMAN AND THE YOUNG.

(_After a Well-known Original._)

"You are old, '_Le Grand Francais_,'" the young Frank said, "And your hair has become very white. Yet the Judges award you five years, it is said-- I can't think, at your age, it's quite right."

"Such Gaul gratitude, boy!" _Le Grand Francais_ replied, "As it brightens history's page; In my youth I served France, was her boast and her pride; And France has forgotten my age."

* * * * *

"I hear," said Mrs. R., "that there is some question of real or sham Constables at Burlington House. Why not refer it to the Chief Commissioner of Police?"

* * * * *

Sad, but True.

Your journalist may be a scribe of sense, or comicality, Avoiding the sensational, the silly, and the shoppy; But he can never make a claim to true originality, His contributions always being recognised as "copy."

* * * * *

NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.