SCENE XXXV.--_The Morning Room._ TIME--_About_ 1 P.M.

_Undershell_ (_to himself, alone_). I'm rather sorry that that Miss SPELWANE couldn't stay. She's a trifle angular--but clever. It was distinctly sharp of her to see through that fellow SPURRELL from the first, and lay such an ingenious little trap for him. And she has a great feeling for Literature--knows my verses by heart, I discovered, quite accidentally. All the same, I wish she hadn't intercepted those snowdrops. Now I shall have to go out and pick some more. (_Sounds outside in the entrance hall._) Too late--they've got back from church!

_Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris_ (_entering with_ Lady RHODA, Sir RUPERT, _and_ BEARPARK). Such a nice, plain, simple service--I'm positively _ravenous!_

_Lady Rhoda._ Struck me some of those chubby choir-boys wanted smackin'. What a business it seems to get the servants properly into their pew; as bad as boxin' a string of hunters! As for _you_, ARCHIE, the way you fidgeted durin' the sermon was down right disgraceful!... So _there_ you are, Mr. BLAIR; not been to Church; but I forgot--p'raps you're a Dissenter, or somethin'?

_Und._ (_annoyed_). Only, Lady RHODA, in the sense that I have hitherto failed to discover any form of creed that commands my intellectual assent.

_Lady Rhoda_ (_unimpressed_). I expect you haven't tried. Are you a--what d'ye call it?--a Lacedemoniac?

_Und._ (_with lofty tolerance_). I _presume_ you mean a "Laodicean." No, I should rather describe myself as a Deist.

_Archie_ (_in a surly undertone_). What's a _Deast_ when he's at home? If he'd said a _Beast_ now! (_Aloud, as_ PILLINER _enters with_ Captain THICKNESSE.) Hullo, why here's THICKNESSE! So you _haven't_ gone after all, then?

_Captain Thicknesse._ What an observant young beggar you are, BEARPARK! Nothin' escapes you. No, I haven't. (_To_ Sir RUPERT, _rather sheepishly_.) Fact is, Sir, I--I somehow just missed the train, and--and--thought I might as well come back, instead of waitin' about, don't you know.

_Sir Rupert_ (_heartily_). Why, of course, my dear boy, of course! Never have forgiven you if you _hadn't_. Great nuisance for _you_, though. Hope you blew the fool of a man up; he _ought_ to have been round in plenty of time.

_Capt. Thick._ Not the groom's fault, Sir. I kept him waitin' a bit, and--and we had to stop to shift the seat and that, and so----

_Und._ (_to himself_). Great blundering booby! Can't he see nobody wants him _here!_ As if he hadn't bored poor Lady MAISIE enough at breakfast! Ah, well, I must come to her rescue once more, I suppose!

_Sir Rup._ Half an hour to lunch! Anybody like to come round to the stables? I'm going to see how my wife's horse _Deerfoot_ is getting on. Fond of horses, eh, Mr.--a--UNDERSHELL? Care to come with us?

_Und._ (_to himself_). I've seen quite enough of _that_ beast already! (_Aloud, with some asperity._) You must really excuse me, Sir RUPERT. I am at one with Mr. RUSKIN--I _detest_ horses.

_Sir Rup._ Ah? Pity. We're rather fond of 'em here. But we can't expect a poet to be a sportsman, eh?

_Und._ For my own poor part, I confess I look forward to a day, not far distant, when the spread of civilisation will have abolished every form of so-called Sport.

_Sir Rup._ _Do_ you, though? (_After conquering a choke with difficulty._) Allow me to hope that you will continue to enjoy the pleasures of anticipation as long as possible. (_To the rest._) Well, are you coming?

[_All except_ UNDERSHELL _follow their host out_.

_Und._ (_alone, to himself_). If they think I'm going to be _patronised_, or suppress my honest convictions----! Now I'll go and pick those---- (Lady MAISIE _enters from the Conservatory_.) Ah, Lady MAISIE, I have been trying to find you. I had plucked a few snowdrops, which I promised myself the pleasure of presenting to you. Unfortunately they--er--failed to reach their destination.

_Lady Maisie_ (_distantly_). Thanks, Mr. BLAIR; I am only sorry you should have given yourself such unnecessary trouble.

_Und._ (_detaining her, as she seemed about to pass on_). I have another piece of intelligence which you may hear less--er--philosophically, Lady MAISIE. Your _bête noire_ has returned.

_Lady Maisie_ (_with lifted eyebrows_). My _bête noire_, Mr. BLAIR?

_Und._ Why affect not to understand? I have an infallible instinct in all matters concerning _you_, and, sweetly tolerant as you are, I instantly divined what an insufferable nuisance you found our military friend, Captain THICKNESSE.

_Lady Maisie._ There are limits even to _my_ tolerance, Mr. BLAIR. I admit I find some people insufferable--but Captain THICKNESSE is not one of them.

_Und._ Then appearances are deceptive indeed. Come, Lady MAISIE, surely you can trust Me!

[Lady CANTIRE _enters_.

_Lady Cantire_ (_in her most awful tones_). MAISIE, my dear, I appear to have interrupted an interview of a somewhat confidential character. If so, pray let me know it, and I will go elsewhere.

_Lady Maisie_ (_calmly_). Not in the very least, Mamma. Mr. BLAIR was merely trying to prepare me for the fact that Captain THICKNESSE has come back; which was quite needless, as I happen to have heard it already from his own lips.

_Lady Cant._ Captain THICKNESSE come back! (_To_ UNDERSHELL.) I wish to speak to my daughter. May I ask you to leave us?

_Und._ With pleasure, Lady CANTIRE. (_To himself, as he retires._) What a consummate actress that girl is! And what a coquette!

_Lady Cant._ (_after a silence_). MAISIE, what does all this mean? No _nonsense_ now! What brought GERALD THICKNESSE back?

_Lady Maisie._ I _suppose_ the dog-cart, Mamma. He missed his train, you know. I don't think he minds--much.

_Lady Cant._ Let me tell you _this_, my dear. It is a great deal more than you _deserve_ after---- How long has he come back for?

_Lady Maisie._ Only a few hours; but--but from things he said, I fancy he would stay on longer--if Aunt ALBINIA asked him.

_Lady Cant._ Then we may consider that settled; he stays. (Lady CULVERIN _appears_.) Here _is_ your Aunt. You had better leave us, my dear.

SOMEWHAT LATER; THE PARTY HAVE ASSEMBLED FOR LUNCH.

_Sir Rup._ (_to his wife_). Well, my dear, I've seen that young SPURRELL (smart fellow he is too, thoroughly up in his business), and you'll be glad to hear he can't find anything seriously wrong with _Deerfoot_.

_Und._ (_in the background, to himself_). No more could I, for that matter!

_Sir Rup._ He's clear it isn't navicular, which ADAMS was afraid of, and he thinks, with care and rest, you know, the horse will be as fit as a fiddle in a very few days.

_Und._ (_to himself_). Just exactly what I _told_ them; but the fools wouldn't believe _me!_

_Lady Culverin._ Oh, RUPERT, I _am_ so glad. How clever of that nice Mr. SPURRELL! I was afraid my poor _Deerfoot_ would have to be shot.

_Und._ (_to himself_). She may thank me that he _wasn't_. And this other fellow gets all the credit for it. How like Life!

_Lady Maisie._ And, Uncle RUPERT, how about--about PHILLIPSON, you know? Is it all right?

_Sir Rup._ PHILLIPSON? Oh, why, 'pon my word, my dear, didn't think of asking.

_Lady Rhoda._ But _I_ did, MAISIE. And they met this mornin', and it's all settled, and they're as happy as they can be. Except that he's on the look out for a mysterious stranger, who disappeared last night, after tryin' to make desperate love to her. He is determined, if he can find him, to give him a piece of his mind.

[UNDERSHELL _disguises his extreme uneasiness._

_Pilliner._ And the whole of a horsewhip. He invited my opinion of it as an implement of castigation. Kind of thing, you know, that would impart "proficiency in the _trois temps_, as danced in the most select circles," in a single lesson to a lame bear.

_Und._ (_to himself_). I don't stir a step out of this house while I'm here, that's all!

_Sir Rup._ Ha-ha! Athletic young chap that. Glad to see him in the field next Tuesday. By the way, ALBINIA, you've heard how THICKNESSE here contrived to miss his train this morning? Our gain, of course; but still we must manage to get you back to Aldershot to-night, my boy, or you'll get called over the coals by your Colonel when you _do_ put in an appearance, hey? Now, let's see; what train ought you to catch?

[_He takes up "Bradshaw" from a writing-table._

_Lady Cant._ (_possessing herself of the volume_). Allow me, RUPERT, my eyes are better than yours. _I_ will look out his trains for him. (_After consulting various pages._) Just as I _thought!_ Quite impossible for him to reach North Camp to-night now. There isn't a train till six, and _that_ gets to town just too late for him to drive across to Waterloo and catch the last Aldershot train. So there's no more to be said.

[_She puts "Bradshaw" away._

_Capt. Thick._ (_with undisguised relief_). Oh, well, dessay they won't kick up much of a row if I don't get back till to-morrow,--or the day _after_, if it comes to that.

_Und._ (_to himself_). It _shan't_ come to that--if _I_ can prevent it! Lady MAISIE is quite in despair, I can see. (_Aloud._) Indeed? I was--a--not aware that discipline was quite so lax as that in the British Army. And surely officers should set an example of----

[_He finds that his intervention has produced a distinct sensation, and, taking up the discarded "Bradshaw," becomes engrossed in its study._

_Capt. Thick._ (_ignoring him completely_). It's like this, Lady CULVERIN. Somehow I--I muddled up the dates, don't you know. Mean to say, got it into my head to-day was the 20th, instead of only the 18th. (_Lamely._) That's how it _was_.

_Lady Culv._ Delightful, my dear GERALD. Then we shall keep you here till Tuesday, of _course!_

_Und._ (_looking up from "Bradshaw," impulsively_). Lady CULVERIN, I see there's a very good train which leaves Shuntingbridge at 3.15 this afternoon, and gets----

[_The rest regard him with unaffected surprise and disapproval._

_Lady Cant._ (_raising her glasses_). Upon my word, Mr. BLAIR! If you will kindly leave Captain THICKNESSE to make his own arrangements----!

_Lady Maisie_ (_interposing hastily_). But, Mamma, you must have misunderstood Mr. BLAIR! As if he would _dream_ of----. He was merely mentioning the train he wishes to go by himself. _Weren't_ you, Mr. BLAIR?

_Und._ (_blinking and gasping_). I--eh? Just so, that--that _was_ my intention, certainly. (_To himself._) Does she at all realise what this will cost her?

_Lady Culv._ My dear Mr. BLAIR, I--I'd no notion we were to lose you so soon; but if you're really quite _sure_ you must go----

_Lady Cant._ (_sharply_). Really, ALBINIA, we must give him credit for knowing his own mind. He tells you he is _obliged to go!_

_Lady Culv._ Then of course we must let you do _exactly_ as you please. (_All, except_ Miss SPELWANE, _breathe more freely_; TREDWELL _appears_.) Oh, lunch, is it, TREDWELL? Very well. By-the-bye, see that some one packs Mr. UNDERSHELL'S things for him, and tell them to send the dogcart round after lunch in time to catch the 3.15 from Shuntingbridge.

_Pill._ (_sotto voce, to_ ARCHIE). And let us pray that the cart is properly balanced _before_ starting, _this_ time!

_Miss Spelwane_ (_to herself, piqued_). Going already! I wish I had never touched his ridiculous snowdrops!

_Lady Culv._ Well, shall we go in to lunch, everybody?

[_They move in irregular order towards the Dining Hall._

_Und._ (_in an undertone to_ Lady MAISIE, _as they follow last_). Lady MAISIE, I--er--this is just a _little_ unexpected. I confess I don't quite understand your precise motive in suggesting so--so hasty a departure.

_Lady Maisie_ (_without looking at him_). Don't you, Mr. BLAIR? Perhaps--when you come to think over it all quietly--you _will_.

[_She passes on, leaving him perplexed._

_Und._ (_to himself_). Shall I? I certainly can't say I do just----Why, yes, I _do!_ That bully SPURRELL with his beastly horsewhip! She dreads an encounter between us--and I should much prefer to avoid it myself. Yes, that's it, of course; she is willing to sacrifice anything rather than endanger _my_ personal safety! What unselfish angels some women are! Even that sneering fellow DRYSDALE will be impressed when I tell him this.... Yes, it's best that I should go--I see that now. I don't so much mind leaving. Without any false humility, I can hardly avoid seeing that, even in the short time I have been among these people, I have produced a decided impression. And there is at least one--perhaps _two_--who will miss me when I am gone.

[_He goes into the Dining Hall, with restored equanimity._

THE END.

* * * * *

ROBERT ON HUNIFIKASHUN!

I have bin a having quite a long tork with a most respecful looking Gent who tells me he is a reel County Counsellor, and that they has a Gildhall of their own at Charing Cross, where they meets ewery week, the same as the Common Counsellors does at their reel Gildhall in the Citty, and that they has quite made up their minds to make the two Gildhalls into one and have them both for theirselves, and that that will be what they calls Hunifikashun, which means everything for them and not nothink for nobody else.

Not content with what they have got allreddy they means to have all the Citty Perlice, and the Manshun House, and all the Citty's Money, and the rite to all the Tems Water, and to the LORD MARE and Sherryfs Carridges, and to the Old Bayley, and to more other things than I can manage to remember! And he really speaks of all these warious matters jest as if he was quite in ernest, and acshally expected as it woud all be done by the next Parlement when they met next year! And when he found as I reelly didn't beleeve a word of his wunderful stories, he acshally arsked me to go with him to their Gildhall at Charing Cross, and there he put me in a nice seat, and then I heard em all torking away, jest as if they were quite in ernest, all about the many wunderful things as they was about to do soon! Oh, I wunders how long it will be before any on em reelly happens? Not in my life time I'll be bound, nor most likely in nobody elses! Did any reesonable man, woman or child ever hear such a pack of nonsense? To acshally defraud the grand old Citty of Lundon, that is only jest about seven hunderd year old, of all their priwileges and all their rites and all their money! and then I shoud like to know what is to become of me, and the duzzens like me? Nice lots of Lord Mares and Alldermen these County Counsellors woud make! Why I acshally douts whether they coud even manage to make up a decent lot of Common Counselmen under at least a year.

There was one thing as I heard them squabling about while I was there, and that was the nessessity of having some more lunatic asylums, which did not much surprise me, as I shoud think they will soon want a pretty good number for theirselves, if they continnes to go on as they are going.

BROWN told me a rayther funny story about the dredful solemnity of these wunderful County Counsellors. He says they have by sum means or other got the right of insistin that there shall be no fun in the theaters, and no warking about between the hacts; and that the publick got so disgusted with the silly regerlations, that in many cases they left off going to them for ewer so long; but they are better now, and will most likely soon go back to their old armless jokes.

ROBERT.

* * * * *

AN EXTRACT.

(_From some hitherto Unpublished Correspondence._)

["Photographs of ladies' feet are now taken in New York as _souvenirs_ for their admirers."--_Globe, Dec. 6._]

... It is real kind of you, dearest, to mail your own laddie those half-dozen lovely photographs, or should I call them footographs? I can't say right here which I like best--they're all just fetching, anyway. You bet, I'll treasure them _some!_ I'll wear the midget profile as a chest-protector right along, and put the full-foot vignette under my pillow nights. And the three-quarter platino shall go on my chimney rack--there's a considerable saucy look about the big toe which I'm mashed on horrid. I guess you won't see such a number-one instep as yours any time on these effete old London side-walks. To look at the Britishers' foot-cases in Piccadilly makes me tired, when I think of you any. I'll send views of mine soon in exchange, but I reckon the naked truth might give you fits, so I'll just sit with my rubbers on, and get the camera-man to map you off a walking likeness of my right daisy-crusher. (My left is a trifle out of focus.) Kind regards to you, Poppa....

* * * * *

* * * * *

"AN OLD OFFENDER."

["It is impossible, we fear, to escape from the conclusion that there is a substantial basis of fact for the rumours ... of atrocities perpetrated by Turkish troops on the Christian inhabitants of Armenia.... By one of the Articles of the Treaty of Berlin the Porte undertook 'to carry out without delay the improvements and reforms demanded by local requirements in the provinces inhabited by the Armenians, and to guarantee their security against the Circassians and the Kurds.'"--_"Times" Leader, December 4._]

Again! Is there nothing can humanise ever The heart of Islam, that red-ravening wolf? Will bonds of convention and treaty bridge never Between Turk and Christian the broadening gulf? Will no lesson teach, and will no promise tether, The Ottoman hordes when let loose on the foe? Must slaughter, and rapine, and outrage together, The old vile triumvirate, fetterless go?

Time's fool seems the Turk, stern, unteachable, savage, The fiercest fool-fighter on history's roll. All indolent rest or undisciplined ravage. The varnish of manner soaks not to his soul. Red Man of the Orient, ruthless, untamable, Neighbour, by fortune, in nothing near kin. Humanity's brotherhood surely is blameable, Leaving him free from Law's bondage to win!

In sheer self-defence we must muzzle and shackle This wolf of the world; snatch its poor prostrate prey From its crimsoning fangs. The old cynical cackle Of "coffee-house babble" is silent to-day; And a weapon's at hand, too long left there unlifted, That Law and that Justice alike now commend To the grip of Europa. Be murder short-shrifted And bestial outrage meet summary end!

Not again must hot Islamite hate be permitted In chase of creed-vengeance the East to embroil; Not again must its prey fall unaided, unpitied, The Gallio's mock, and the miscreant's spoil. _There_ hangs the good Berlin-blade, consecrated By common agreement to Justice's work! Be its blow not this time, as aforetime, belated! Let Europe not bleed for the sin of the Turk!

* * * * *

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.

NEW PARISH-COUNCIL VERSION.

(_By a Landlord and Lover of the Good Old Times._)

[At Merton, Surrey, where Mr. WILLIAM MORRIS has his factory, a blacksmith was highest of the fifteen successful candidates for the Parish Council, the vicar being eighth.]

Over the vicar, top o' the tree, The Village Blacksmith stands; The smith a mighty man is he, With power in his strong hands; And his victory well may stir alarms In Squire-Parsonic bands.

The Squire looks black, his face is long,-- "Vicar not in the van? Oh! things are going to the doose As fast as e'er they can! The blacksmith with his grimy face Has proved to be best man.

"Week in, week out, he'll spout and fight! We shall hear him bluff and blow. He'll vote the good old times all wrong, The good old fashions slow; And won't he run the rates right up, And keep tithe-charges low?

"He'll have his finger in the School, He'll open wide its door; He'll keep the Voluntaries starved, And let the School-Board score. And he'll want baths and washhouses And villas for the poor!

"Then he may 'go for' the Old Church, And rouse the village boys To listen, not to Parson's drone, But Agitation's voice, And 'stead o' singing in the choir He'll swell Rad ranters' noise.

"'Twill sound to _him_ like Wisdom's voice, Preaching of Paradise, As though the thing were at his door; Plumbed with Progressive lies, He'll think _his_ hard, rough hand will wipe The Squire's and Parson's eyes.

"Broiling--orating--borrowing, Swelling the rates, he goes. Reform's raw task he will begin, But who shall see it close? Church will be robbed, and Land be sold. Farewell old-time repose!

"'Tis thanks to you, my loud Rad friends, These lessons _you_ have taught! By folly from the flaming forge _Our_ fortunes must be wrought. And _won't_ there be a blessed mess Before the fight is fought!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

MARY JONES.

(_By her Husband._)

As I'm daily jolted down On the early bus to town, Through the yellow fog and brown, O'er the stones, I inhale the tawny air, And I deem it ether rare, For my soul is full of fair MARY JONES.

Fellow-passengers are fain To abuse the wind and rain, And the weather, they complain, Chills their bones: But I laugh at snow and sleet As I bump upon my seat, For I'm thinking of my sweet MARY JONES.

With a lightsome heart and gay To the Bank I wend my way. Where I calculate all day Debts and loans; Though anon my fancies flee From the rows of £ _s. d._, And they wander off to thee, MARY JONES.

And I cannot blame their taste, Though a little time they waste For my MARY would have graced Monarchs' thrones. What are pounds and pence to her?-- No. I cannot but concur With their choice when they prefer MARY JONES.

Then I hurry home to tea, And I pass an A. B. C., Where I purchase two or three Cakes and scones: For I love the smiles that rise In your laughing hazel eyes When I offer you my prize, MARY JONES.

And when tea is cleared away, And you kindle me my clay, As I listen to your gay Dulcet tones, Then I sometimes wonder who In the world's the best to do?-- 'Gad, it's either I or you, MARY JONES!

* * * * *

THE MODERN SOCIETY PLAY.

It surely should not be allowed, The Modern Society Play, That dreadfully shocking _Kate Cloud_, That bad _Mrs. P. Tanqueray._ That's what said X. Y. Z.

It elevates everyone, The Modern Society Play, You stupid old son of a gun. Replied, bursting into the fray, Fearless, free, H. B. TREE.

Why make such a clamour? Oh, blow The Modern Society Play! As nothing compels you to go, X. Y. Z., you can just stop away; Don't you see? So say we.

* * * * *

LOST IN LONDON.

1. Hymn-book stolen. Original price, in superior binding, 11-¾_d._

2. Hymn-book pawned for 2-½_d._ by thief.

3. Pawnbroker, finding my name inside, tells Police.

4. Police inform me I can have the book restored to me "on application."

5. Go to Scotland Yard. Told hymn-book is at Bow Street. Cost of my journey so far, 4-½_d._

6. At Bow Street have to take out summons against Chief Commissioner! This is "the invariable rule," I am informed. Cost of summons and "service"--not the Church Service--3_s._ Could have got _three new hymn-books_ with the sum.

7. Have to attend week later at hearing of summons. Journey again 4-½_d._ Bow Street _not_ a nice court. Hymn-book restored to me.

8. Chief Commissioner appeals! Believes there is another person of my name to whom book may belong. "If I give it up quietly, shall hear no more about it." Give up my own hymn-book! Never!

9. Appeal dismissed. Attendance and costs amount to £45. And I am the winning party!

10. Chief Commissioner "carries me" to House of Lords, but does not pay carriage. Preliminary costs, £80.

11. Long Vacation.

12. House of Lords sits. "Has no doubt hymn-book belongs to other person of my name." I to pay all costs in all Courts!

13. Ruined!

* * * * *

"I shall be all right again soon, I'll be bound!" as a dilapidated First Edition observed.

* * * * *

INTER-UNIVERSITY FOOTBALL.

[Yale _v._ Princeton University. "Before the game commenced an Inspector of police, who was on the ground, addressed the two teams, and cautioned them against violent play. This warning is without precedent in the history of the University contests."--_Reuter._]

SCENE--_Queen's Club. Oxford and Cambridge Football Match. Teams undergoing modern torture of ordeal by photograph. Enter_ Police-Inspector, _rampant, supported by two Peelers proper. He "addresses the two teams":_--

I'm an Inspector bold, yet wary, So, gents, you must all take care, For I'm here to boss this battle, And see that you all fight fair. Now fisting, and scragging, and hacking, Are all fair enough, we say, But if gents exceed the limits Of legitimate violent play,

We'll run them in, we'll run them in, As sure as we're standing here, We'll run them in, we'll run them in, For the Peeler knows no fear!

Of course you may fight each other, But you mustn't attack the crowd, For we can't have unlimited bloodshed, And weapons are not allowed. So, gents, I must kindly ask you To enter the field without Your bludgeons and knives and pistols, Or else, beyond all doubt,

We'll run you in, &c., &c.

[_Teams join in chorus. Exit_ Inspector _to look after ambulance arrangements._

* * * * *

THE SUNDAY LECTURE CASE.

The Lord's Day Observance Society Would make us all pinks of propriety-- All models of mental sobriety, That is _Stiggins_ and _Chadband_ combined. They gain, doubtless, some notoriety By such overwhelming anxiety To force on us their sort of piety Of a most puritanical kind. This _Sunday at Home_ mental diet, I Dislike, I would rather not try it; I Suggest that, by way of variety. Their own business now they should mind.

* * * * *

Prize Conundrum before Christmas.

_How to Make Life Happy._--An Infallible Recipe:--Add fifty-nine to the latter half of it. *** _Solution will be given next week._

* * * * *

* * * * *

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

_Kelt and Salted._--It may be true, as you have heard, that Mr. STANDISH O'GRADY intends to supplement his series of Ossianic stories, _Finn and his Companions_, by a work entitled _Fin an' Haddock_. But, we confess, the story seems a little fishy.

_A Brummagem Spoon._--You are quite wrong. The creation of the character of _Rip Van Winkle_ was, in point of time, far anterior to the invention of the Self-working Noiseless Screw. Mr. CHAMBERLAIN'S playful application of the term to Lord HARTINGTON did not imply any proprietorship in the article. The right hon. gentleman was under the impression that he had come across the character in the course of his reading of DICKENS' Christmas stories, and, wanting to say something nice of his noble friend, he just mentioned it. It led to some misunderstanding at the time, but has now been forgotten. See our answer to "Three Cows and an Acre" in the Christmas Number.

_Residuary Legatee._--Certainly you may recover, especially if you can get A. to refund the money. Don't hesitate to sue. We make a practice of never accepting fees. The 6_s._ 8_d._ you enclosed (in stamps, postal order preferable) we shall, at the first opportunity, place in the Poor Box.

_Perplexed._--What do you mean by asking us to tell you "If a herring and a-half costs three hapence, how much will a dozen run you in for?" This is just one of those simple problems you can solve for yourself on reference to an ordinary book of arithmetic. Do you suppose we sit here to save the time of idle persons? Our mission is to supply information drawn from authorities not accessible to the average subscriber.

_Algernon and Sibyl._--Consult Sir GEORGE LEWIS, Ely Place, Holborn, E.C. We never advise on delicate subjects such as yours. It is impossible for us to reply to correspondents through the post. Our motto is _Audi altem parterem_. As the lady may not be familiar with the dead languages, we may perhaps do well to translate. Freely rendered, it means, "We desire that all parties (_altem parterem_) may hear and profit by our advice."

_One-who-has-had-no-rest-to-speak-of-for-fifteen-years-owing-to-neuralgic- pains-and-a-next-door-neighbour-who-plays-the-piano-night-and-day._--No.

_Beyond the Dreams of Avarice._--Your record of an incident in the early life of Mr. W. ASTOR is very interesting. "Musing by the waters of the mighty Hudson he," you say, "conceived the ambition of becoming one of the richest men in the world." It is pleasing to know that his recent entrance upon journalistic enterprise is likely to realise his boyhood's dream.

_Advertisement Agent._--There is, we fear, no opening for you in this direction. "Silonio" is not the name of a new shaving soap, as you surmise. It is the title of honour given by the delegates of a remote but respectable African race to a great and good British statesman. Its literal translation into the English tongue is, we are informed, "Open-mouthed."

_A Subscriber for Seventy Years._--Your poem, commencing,

DIGGLE DIGGLE den, How is Brother BENN? Really, Mr. RILEY, Ain't you rather wily?

is perhaps a little monotonous in its interrogative form. But it is not without merit, especially from one of your advanced age. A fatal objection is that it should be out of date. The School-Board Elections, we are glad to say, were completed a fortnight ago. Try again--for some other paper.

* * * * *

THE NEW NECTAR.

[Professor HUXLEY, at the anniversary meeting of the Royal Society, suggested that in the future imaginative speaking at their dinners might be stimulated by the drinking of liquid oxygen, _bien frappé_.]

AIR--"_Take hence the Bowl!_"

Take hence the bowl; though beaming Brightly as bowl e'er shone, With Fizz sublimely creaming, Or Port or Zoedone. There is a new potation To warm the hearts of men, And wake imagination-- In Liquid Oxygen!

Each cup I drain, _bien frappé_, My tongue pat talk can teach; It helps to make me happy In after-dinner speech. At banquet, or at gala, I match such mighty men As GLADSTONE, CARR, or SALA, On Liquid Oxygen!

A fig for Mumm or Massio, Falernian and such fudge; (Thin stuff those tipples classic If I am any judge.) But burning thoughts come o'er me And fire my tongue, or pen, When I've a bowl before me Of Liquid Oxygen!

When fun needs stimulation, Or fancy fails in fire; When lags the long oration, Or tongues postprandial tire; Then take the tip Huxleyan, And one long swig,--and then You'll promptly raise a pæan To Liquid Oxygen!

* * * * *

FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

"There is nothing in Italy more beautiful to me than the coast-road between Genoa and Spezia." Remember these words of DICKENS, in his _Pictures from Italy_, as I start from Pisa to see that lovely coast, and the Mediterranean, for the first time.

Pisa is sleepy, but the railway officials are wide awake. The man who sells me my ticket "forgets" one lira. This answers capitally with innocent old ladies from England or Germany. The old lady counts her change, and if she has carefully ascertained the fare by reading the price marked on her ticket, she finds at once that there is a halfpenny wanting. She never learns that this is the Government tax. "If you please," she begins; or, "_Bitte_," and then she goes off into--not hysterics, but French, and murmurs, "_Seevooplay, je pongse vous devays avoir donnay moi un sou_--er--er--more, _vous comprenny?_" or, "_Il y a encore_--er--er--_fünfzig, vous savay, à moi à payer._" Then the official answers, also in French, "_Ah nong, Madame, ceci est la taxe doo gouvernemang sul biglietto, capisce?_"

Whereupon the old lady is so agitated by the thought that she has wrongfully accused him of stealing a soldo, that she never notices that he has withheld a lira. If she counts her money later in the day, she will blame those nasty lira notes, which stick together so, that she must have given two somewhere instead of one. But the railway clerk is also prepared for any more exacting stranger, and holds the extra note ready for him. The clerk at Pisa does so, handing it to me, without a word of objection or explanation, as soon as I ask for it. The system is as perfect as it is simple. Having obtained my change, I start for the Mediterranean.

A FIRST IMPRESSIONIST.

* * * * *

THE TRUISMS OF LIFE.

(_By the Right Hon. the Author of "The Platitudes of Life," M.P., F.R.S., D.C.L., LL.D._)