SCENE VIII.--_A prettily-furnished Drawing-room at the

MERRIDEWS' _House in Hans Place_. TIME--_About 5.30 on Saturday afternoon_. Mrs. MERRIDEW _has a small tea-table in front of her_. ALTHEA _is sitting on a couch close by_. _Both ladies are wearing their hats, having just returned from a drive_. Mrs. MERRIDEW _is young and attractive, and her frock is in the latest fashion_; ALTHEA _is more simply dressed, though her hair and toilette have evidently been supervised by an experienced maid_.

_Mrs. Merridew_. I don't think I've ever known the Park so full before Easter as it was to-day. Try one of those hot cakes, THEA, or a jam sandwich--we don't dine till late, you know. It's been so nice having you, I do wish you hadn't to go on Monday--_must_ you?

_Althea_. I'm afraid I must, CISSIE; it has been the most delightful week; only--Clapham will seem dreadfully flat after all this. _She sighs_.

_Mrs. M_. Notwithstanding the excitement of Mr. CURPHEW'S conversation?

_Alth_. Mr. CURPHEW, CISSIE?

_Mrs. M_. Now don't pretend ignorance, dear. You have quoted Mr. CURPHEW and his opinions often enough to show that you see and think a good deal of him. And, really, if you colour like that at the mere mention----

_Alth_. Am I colouring? That last cup was so strong. And I don't see Mr. CURPHEW at all often. He is more Mamma's friend than mine--she has a very high opinion of him.

_Mrs. M_. I daresay he deserves it. He's a fearfully learned and superior person, isn't he?

_Alth_. I--I don't know. He writes for the paper.

_Mrs. M_. That's vague, dear. What sort of paper? Political, Scientific, Sporting, Society--or what?

_Alth_. I never asked; but I should think--well, he's rather _serious_, you know, CISSIE.

_Mrs. M_. Then it's a comic paper, my dear, depend upon it!

_Alth_. Oh, CISSIE, I'm _sure_ it isn't. And he's very hardworking. He's not like most men of his age, he doesn't care in the least for amusements.

_Mrs. M_. He must be a very lively person. But tell me--you used to tell me everything, THEA--does this immaculate paragon show any signs of----?

_Alth_. (_in a low voice_). I'm not sure----Perhaps--but I may be mistaken.

_Mrs. M_. And if--don't think me horribly impertinent--but if you're _not_ mistaken, have you made up your mind what answer to give him?

_Alth_. (_imploringly_). Don't tease me, CISSIE. I thought once--but now I really don't know. I wish he wasn't so strict and severe. I wish he understood that one can't always be solemn--that one must have a little enjoyment in one's life, when one is young!

_Mrs. M_. And yet I seem to remember a girl who had serious searchings of heart, not so very long ago, as to whether it wasn't sinful to go and see SHAKSPEARE at the Lyceum!

_Alth_. I know; it was silly of me--but I didn't know what a theatre was like. I'd never been to see a play--not even at the Crystal Palace. But now I've been, I'd like to go to one every week; they're lovely, and I don't believe anything that makes you cry and laugh like that _can_ be wicked!

_Mrs. M_. Ah, you were no more meant to be a little Puritan than I was myself, dear. Heavens! When I think what an abominable prig I must have been at Miss PRUINS'.

_Alth_. You weren't in the least a prig, CISSIE. But you _were_ different. You used to say you intended to devote yourself entirely to Humanity.

_Mrs. M_. Yes; but I didn't realise then what a lot there were of them. And when I met FRANK I thought it would be less ambitious to begin with _him_. Now I find there's humanity enough in FRANK to occupy the devotion of a lifetime. But are you sure, THEA, that this journalist admirer of yours is quite the man to----He sounds dull, dear; admirable and all that--but, oh, so deadly dull!

_Alth_. If he was brilliant and fond of excitement _we_ shouldn't have known him; for we're deadly dull ourselves, CISSIE. I never knew _how_ dull till--till I came to stay with you!

_Mrs. M_. You're not dull, you're a darling; and if you think I'm going to let you throw yourself away on some humdrum plodder who will expect you to find your sole amusement in hearing him prose, you're mistaken; because I shan't. THEA, whatever you do, don't be talked into marrying a Dryasdust; you'll only be miserable if you do!

_Alth_. But Mr. CURPHEW isn't as bad as that, CISSIE. And--and he hasn't asked me yet, and when he finds out how frivolous I've become, very likely he never will; so we needn't talk about it any more, need we?

_Mrs. M_. Now I feel snubbed; but I don't care, it's all for your good, my dear, and I've said all I wanted to, so we'll change the subject for something more amusing. (Colonel MERRIDEW _comes in_.) Well, FRANK, have you actually condescended to come in for some tea? (_To_ ALTHEA.) Generally he says tea is all very well for women; and then goes off to his club and has at least two cups, and I daresay muffins.

_Col. M_. Why not say ham-sandwiches at once, CECILIA, my dear? pity to curb your imagination! (_Sitting down_.) If that tea's drinkable, I don't know that I won't have a cup; though it's not what I came for. I wanted to know if you'd settled to do anything this evening, because, if not, I've got a suggestion--struck me in the Row just after you'd passed, and I thought I'd come back and see how _you_ felt about it. (_He takes his tea_.) For me?--thanks.

_Mrs. M_. We feel curious about it at present. FRANK.

_Col. M_. Well, I thought that, as this is Miss TOOVEY'S last evening with us, it was a pity to waste it at home. Why shouldn't we have a little dinner at the Savoy, eh?--about eight--and drop in somewhere afterwards, if we feel inclined?

_Mrs. M_. Do you know that's quite a delightful idea of yours, FRANK. That is, unless THEA has had enough of gaiety, and would rather we had a quiet evening. Would you, dear? _To_ ALTHEA.

_Alth_. (_eagerly_). Oh, no, indeed, CISSIE, I'm not a bit tired!

_Mrs. M_. You're quite sure? But where could we go on afterwards, FRANK; shouldn't we be too late for any theatre?

_Col. M_. I rather thought we might look in at the Eldorado; you said you were very keen to hear WALTER WILDFIRE. (_He perceives that his wife is telegraphing displeasure_.) Eh? why, you _did_ want me to take you.

_Alth_. (_to herself_). WALTER WILDFIRE? why, it was WALTER WILDFIRE that CHARLES advised Mr. CURPHEW to go and hear. Mr. CURPHEW said it was the very last thing he was likely to do. But he's so prejudiced!

_Mrs. M_. (_trying to make her husband understand_). Some time--but I think, not to-night, FRANK.

_Col. M_. If it's not to-night you mayn't get another chance; they say he's going to give up singing very soon.

_Mrs. M_. Oh, I hope not! I remember now hearing he was going to retire, because his throat was weak, or else he was going into Parliament, or a Retreat, or something or other. But I'm sure, FRANK, ALTHEA wouldn't quite like to----

_Col. M_. Then of course there's no more to be said. I only thought she might be amused, you know.

_Alth_. But indeed I should, Colonel MERRIDEW, please let us go!

_Mrs. M_. But, THEA, dear, are you sure you quite understand what the Eldorado _is_?--it's a music-hall. Of course it's all right, and everyone goes nowadays; but, still, I shouldn't like to take you if there was any chance that your mother might disapprove. You might never be allowed to come to us again.

_Alth_. (_to herself_). They're both dying to go, I can see; it's too hateful to feel oneself such a kill-joy! And even Mr. CURPHEW admitted that a music-hall was no worse than a Penny Reading. (_Aloud_.) I don't think Mamma would disapprove, CISSIE; not more than she would of my going to theatres, and I've been to _them_, you know!

_Col. M_. We'd have a box, of course, and only just get there in time to hear WILDFIRE; we could go away directly afterwards, 'pon my word, CECILIA, I don't see any objection, if Miss TOOVEY would like to go. Never heard a word against WILDFIRE'S singing, and as for the rest, well, you admitted last time there was no real harm in the thing!

_Alth_. Do say yes, CISSIE. I do want to hear this WALTER WILDFIRE so!

_Mrs. M_. I'm not at all sure that I ought to say anything of the sort, but there--I'll take the responsibility.

_Col. M_. Then that's settled. We'll take great care of you, Miss TOOVEY. I'll just go down to the Rag, CECILIA, and send out to get a box. I'll see if I can find someone to make a fourth, and I daresay we shall manage to amuse ourselves. [_He goes out_.

_Mrs. M_. THEA. I really don't feel quite happy about this. I think I'll go after FRANK and tell him not to get that box after all; he won't have left the house yet. [_She attempts to rise_.

_Alth_. No, CISSIE, you mustn't, if it's on my account. I won't let you! [_She holds her back_.

_Mrs. M_. But, THEA, think. How would you like this Mr. CURPHEW to know that----?

_Alth_. (_releasing her suddenly_). Mr. CURPHEW! What does it matter to me what Mr. CURPHEW----? ... There, Colonel MERRIDEW has gone, CISSIE, I heard the door shut. It's too late--and I'm glad of it. We shall go to the Eldorado and hear WALTER WILDFIRE after all! [END OF SCENE VIII.

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HYDE PARK AND KENSINGTON GARDENS. ONCE AGAIN!--M. ZOLA said "he would give forty Hyde Parks for one Bois de Boulogne." Bravo! So would all Londoners, especially equestrians, who year after year quietly put up with that one Rotten Row ride, and do not unite in their hundreds to petition "the authorities" (mysterious power!) for the opening of a ride through Kensington Gardens from south to north, and for a few "alleys" under the broad spreading trees, where now sometimes a few sheep, and sometimes a nursery maid and her charge, do stray. A "proposition" logically precedes a "rider;" in this case the proposition should come from the riders.

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"MASTERLY INACTIVITY."

["The terms of the Treaty give complete satisfaction to the claims of France."--_M. le Myre de Vilers on the Franco-Siamese Draft Treaty_.]

_John Bull, loquitur:_--

Settling it! Humph! And my Jingoes, no doubt, Would like me to shout "British Interests!" and "Robbery!!!" Well, of course, 'tis quite clear what those two are about, But _I_ do not feel called on to kick up a bobbery. Poor little Siam! It's rather a shame; But--at present--I shan't take a hand in the game.

Complete satisfaction? Well, _that's_ something gained! "The claims" I had fancied a trifle elastic; "The terms" looked ambiguous, made to be strained, To politic pressure prepared to be plastic. _Micawber_ craved time, and a chance of "turn-up;" And craft has its uses as well as a Krupp.

Sturdy assertion on one side that table, While scared acquiescence is seen on the other! Further development of the old fable. Wolf and the Lamb next, as brother with brother, Or new Franco-Siamese twins may appear; Well, I pity the Lamb, but I feel little fear.

It isn't smart Treaties alone secure Trade, And if I keep the Trade they may keep all their Treaties. 'Tis not by mere craft your true Trader is made. The Frank as a diplomat neat and complete is, As Colonist-Trader, at settlement--shipment-- Well, there's something seems wanting about his equipment.

Trade gravitates somehow, by natural law, To stickers and stayers, the firmest and fittest. A fig for mere parchment and diplomat jaw! Dear France, thou thy insular neighbour oft twittest As "Shopkeeper"! Well ma'am, _j'y suis_, and shall stop; For a Shopkeeper's one who--of course--_keeps the Shop_!

I've had some experience. Far Hindostan, And Canada, Africa, Egypt--ah! pardon! That's just a sore point, and I am not the man A rival of me and my ways to be hard on. No; at a neat "counter" a cur only blubbers; And they who play bowls must expect to have rubbers.

I may have a word to put in by and by; Young ROSEBERY, doubtless, will know how to put it. At present on matters I'll just keep an eye. The World's gate is Trade, and nobody can shut it So tight--by mere Treaties--skill can't turn the handle. One might as well bolt the back door with a candle.

'Tis all Swag and Swagger! I very much fear That's true of us cock-a-whoop "Civilised Races," Who hold that our "Influence" must find its "Sphere,"-- At the cost of the poor yellow-skins or black faces. We are so much alike, 'twere sheer cant to upbraid, So I mean to stand-by--and look after my Trade!

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NAMES FOR OTHER NAMES.

The London County Council having considered the propriety of changing the name of Great George Street, Westminster, we append a list of localities that possibly may, later on, attract their attention. In each case we have appended a suggested new name, chosen in the customary arbitrary and (except in the last specimen) meaningless fashion:--

Trafalgar Square--Water-squirt Place. Piccadilly--Snooks' Avenue. Mayfair--Mews' Gardens. Eaton Square--Pimlico Enclosure. Haymarket--Picture-dealers' Row. Charing Cross--Araminta Place East. Covent Garden--Cabbage Buildings. The Strand--Western Central High Street. Buckingham Palace--Guelph House. Pall Mall--Pavement Promenade. Westminster Abbey--Members' Meeting House. St. Paul's Cathedral--Lord Mayor's Church. Temple Bar--Law Courts' Corner. Chancery Lane--Smith Street East. Fleet Street--Pedlington Place. Whitehall--Rosebery Row. and Spring Gardens--County Council Folly.

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SERIOUS NEWS FROM ETON COLLEGE.--Strike of the _Minors_. The Dii Majores and the Maximi have come to terms, and the Minors have resumed fagging.

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QUERY FOR AUTHOR AND MANAGER AT COMEDY THEATRE.--When you've been _Sowing the Wind_ is the result _A Stitch in the Side_?

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THE RULES OF THE RUDE.

1. The one object which all cyclists should keep steadily in view is to become "scorchers." There are three essentials before you can earn this proud title. First, you must totally disregard the convenience or safety of the public. Second, you must ride at a minimum rate of 15 miles an hour. Third, you must develop pronounced curvature of the spine as quickly as is compatible with your other engagements.

2. Races should always be held on the high roads, at a time of the day when traffic is busiest.

3. Should you be unfortunate enough to knock down a pedestrian, do not trouble to stop and apologise, or inquire if he's hurt. It is his business to get out of your way, and you should remind him of this obligation in the most forcible language at your disposal. This will tend to make the pastime exceedingly popular among non-cyclists.

4. If you notice an old gentleman; crossing the road, wait till you get quite close to him, then emit a wild war-whoop, blow your trumpet, and enjoy the roaring fun of seeing what a shock you have given him.

5. A still better plan, if a wayfarer happens to be walking in the middle of the road, and going in your own direction, is _not_ to signal your approach at all, but to startle him into fits by suddenly and silently gliding by him when he believes himself to be quite alone. The nearer you can shave his person the better the sport.

6. Of course the last plan is much improved if the wayfarer should be a market woman carrying milk or eggs, and if in her fright she drops her can or basket. Unfortunately few cyclists have the good fortune to witness this exquisite bit of rural comedy.

[_These Rules will now probably be thoroughly revised, as the "National Cyclists' Union" has issued a well-timed manifesto warning all wheelmen against "furious riding."_

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"Well," observed the amiable Mrs. SHARPTON SNAPPIE, "there's only one person whom I rate very highly--and that's my husband." [So she did--and rated him--soundly.]

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NOT A FAIR EXCHANGE.

(_An Exercise to be Translated from English into any Foreign Language_.)

This is a thoroughly British home. I find chairs, sofas, curtains, and carpets. They all seem to be of British manufacture.

No, they are not of British manufacture. On the contrary, they are all made in Germany.

But surely this window is English? No, it is not English; it is put together in Sweden, and erected by Swiss workmen.

But are not these pictures, these fire-irons, these card-tables, of home growth? No, for the pictures come from France, the fire-irons from Belgium, and the card-tables from Austria.

The sofa, however, was surely bought in London? It may have been bought in London, but it was certainly made in Denmark.

But the brass nails mast have arrived from Sheffield? No, they are now received from parts of Portugal, Spain, and Northern Russia.

And the coal-scuttles, surely they are made in Lambeth, Manchester, and Liverpool? They were manufactured in those places for a while, when other branches of trade were lost to the country, but for a long time they have been imported from Constantinople.

It may be assumed that the coals come from Newcastle? Certainly not, considering that they have only just been received from New York.

Are the bread and butter, and the other ingredients of the tea-table, English? Oh dear no; the toast comes from Australia, the tea from Ceylon, the sugar from the South Pole, and the butter from Gibraltar.

It really would appear that there is nothing English about the house; nothing save the rent and taxes, which of course are of home growth? You are correct in your supposition; however, in exchange for these conveniences from abroad, we have made a present to the foreigner of something once held very dear in this country.

And what was that?

Our trade. English trade has left England, probably permanently, for the Continent.

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"PICTURES PROM 'PUNCH.'"

["Let me draw the People's pictures, and whosoever will may preach their sermons."--_Maxims of Punchius_.]

"Pictures from _Punch_!" Good lack! How one's memories backward it carries. This artful collection of BRIGGSES, and TOMPKINSES, ROBERTS, and 'ARRIES! Forage of fifty years from Art--granaries fuller than Coptic! What first pleased our grandfather's eye may now brighten our grandchild's blue optic! Art that's humane never ages, and humour that's human's perennial. Turn to these pages and try! You'll perceive that impeccable TENNIEL Moved men to mirth in the Fifties that folks in the Nineties continue; Your midriff indeed must be numb if his Yeomanry Major won't win you; And such "Illustrations to Shakspeare," so finely drawn and so funnily, Might tickle Miss DELIA BACON, and knock sawdust out of "crank" DONNELLY. Why praise those plump, "pretty girls," with their cheeks round and rosy as peaches, And as full of fun as of beauty, well known to the world as JOHN LEECH'S? All the fan of the _Fair_! Still their arch eyes attractively flash on The British male creature, although he _may_ growl at the follies of Fashion. But e'en fashion cannot kill fun. If you'd enter the evergreen Smile-Lands, Turn over to page twenty-one and accompany BRIGGS to the Highlands! _Br-r-r-r_! There's a happy explosion in each individual picture! "Sport" such as BRIGGS'S escapes the most "humanitarian" stricture. KEANE--gentle CARLO! again! His braw feeshermen--even o' Sundays!-- Might soften a Scotch Sabbatarian. Even the grimmest of GRUNDIES _Must_ smile at his topers and tubthumpers, while, as for true English scenery, Where _is_ the magical touch that could so render gay breadths of greenery? Drawing-room humours, and dainty _technique_, do you favour? Fame's _laurier_, Everyone knows--as here proved--for all that falls on subtle DU MAURIER. "DICKY DOYLE'S" opulent fancy, quaint SAMBOURNE'S exhaustless invention-- But there, 'tis a "Humorous Art Gallery" by "Great Hands" too many to mention. When you have feasted on TENNIEL and KEANE, then of PARTRIDGE the turn is, And fed full on JOHN LEECH'S "fire," you will find lots of ditto in FURNISS. "Pictures from _Punch_!" That means pictures from full half a century's story; Humours, and fashions, and fads, English Mirth--English Girls--English Glory! VICTORIA'S reign set to laughter; a gay panorama of Beauty! Buy Britons, study, enjoy! 'Tis your interest, aye, and your duty! Here are "England--Home--Beauty" in one, and at sixpence a month. That's not much, man! If 'tis not your duty to "see that you get it," then _Punch_ is a Dutchman!

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BOBO.

(_The kind of Novel Society likes_.)

"Sling me over a two-eyed steak, BILL," said BOBO.

BILL complied instantly, for he knew the lady's style of conversation; but Lord COKALEEK required to be told that his Marchioness was asking for one of the bloaters in the silver dish in front of his cousin, BILL SPLINTER.

Now, dear reader, I 'm not going to describe Cokaleek House, in the black country, or COKALEEK, or BOBO, or BILL. If you are in smart society you know all about them beforehand; and if you ain't you must puzzle them out the best way you can. The more I don't describe them the more vivid and alive they ought to seem to you. As for BOBO, I shall let her talk. That's enough. In the course of my two volumes--one thick and one thin--which is a new departure, and looks as if my publisher thought that BOBO would stretch to three volumes, and then found she wouldn't--you will be told, 1, that BOBO had brown eyes; 2, that she was five foot eight; and that is all you 'll ever know about the outside of BOBO. But you'll hear her talk, and you'll see her smoke; and if you can't evolve a fascinating personality out of cigarettes, and swears, and skittish conversation, you are not worthy to have known BOBO.

I am told that some people have taken "BOBO" for a vulgar caricature of a real personage. If they have, I can only say I feel flattered by the notion, as it may serve to differentiate me from the vulgar herd of novelists who draw on their imagination for their characters.

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