SCENE I.--SIR RUPERT CULVERIN'S _Study at Wyvern Court. It is a rainy

Saturday morning in February._ Sir RUPERT _is at his writing-table, as_ Lady CULVERIN _enters with a deprecatory air._

_Lady Culverin._ So _here_ you are, RUPERT! Not _very_ busy, are you? I won't keep you a moment. (_She goes to a window._) Such a nuisance it's turning out so wet with all these people in the house, isn't it?

_Sir Rupert._ Well, I was thinking that, as there's nothing doing out of doors, I might get a chance to knock off some of these confounded accounts, but--(_resignedly_)--if you think I ought to go and look after----

_Lady Culv._ No, no, the men are playing billiards, and the women are in the Morning Room--_they_'re all right. I only wanted to ask you about to-night. You know the LULLINGTONS and the dear Bishop and Mrs. RODNEY, and one or two other people, are coming to dinner? Well, who ought to take in ROHESIA?

_Sir Rup._ (_in dismay_). ROHESIA! No idea she was coming down this week!

_Lady Culv._ Yes, by the 4.45. With dear MAISIE. Surely you knew that?

_Sir Rup._ In a sort of way; didn't realise it was so near, that's all.

_Lady Culv._ It's some time since we had her last. And she wanted to come. I didn't think you would like me to write and put her off.

_Sir Rup._ Put her off? Of course I shouldn't, ALBINIA. If my only sister isn't welcome at Wyvern at any time--I say, at _any_ time--where the deuce _is_ she welcome?

_Lady Culv._ I don't know, dear RUPERT. But--but about the table?

_Sir Rup._ So long as you don't put her near me--that's all _I_ care about.

_Lady Culv._ I mean--ought I to send her in with Lord LULLINGTON, or the Bishop?

_Sir Rup._ Why not let 'em toss up? Loser gets her, of course.

_Lady Culv._ _RUPERT!_ As if I could suggest such a thing to the Bishop! I suppose she'd better go in with Lord LULLINGTON--he's Lord Lieutenant--and then it won't matter if she _does_ advocate Disestablishment. Oh, but I forgot; she thinks the House of Lords ought to be abolished _too_!

_Sir Rup._ Whoever takes ROHESIA in is likely to have a time of it. Talked poor CANTIRE into his tomb a good ten years before he was due there. Always lecturing, and domineering, and laying down the law, as long as _I_ can remember her. Can't stand ROHESIA--never could!

_Lady Culv._ I don't think you ought to say so, really, RUPERT. And I'm sure _I_ get on very well with her--generally.

_Sir Rup._ Because you knock under to her.

_Lady Culv._ I'm sure I don't, RUPERT--at least, no more than everybody else. Dear ROHESIA is so strong-minded and advanced and all that, she takes such an interest in all the new movements and things, that she can't understand contradiction; she is so democratic in her ideas, don't you know.

_Sir Rup._ Didn't prevent her marrying CANTIRE. And a democratic Countess--it's downright unnatural!

_Lady Culv._ She believes it's her duty to set an example and meet the People half way. That reminds me--did I tell you Mr. CLARION BLAIR is coming down this evening, too?--only till Monday, RUPERT.

_Sir Rup._ CLARION BLAIR! never heard of him.

_Lady Culv._ I suppose I forgot. CLARION BLAIR isn't his _real_ name though; it's only a--an alias.

_Sir Rup._ Don't see what any fellow wants with an alias. What _is_ his real name?

_Lady Culv._ Well, I know it was _something_ ending in "ell," but I mislaid his letter. Still, CLARION BLAIR is the name he writes under; he's a poet, RUPERT, and quite celebrated, so I'm told.

_Sir Rup._ (_uneasily_). A poet! What on earth possessed you to ask a literary fellow down _here_? Poetry isn't much in our way; and a poet _will_ be, confoundedly!

_Lady Culv._ I really couldn't help it, RUPERT. ROHESIA insisted on my having him to meet her. She likes meeting clever and interesting people. And this Mr. BLAIR, it seems, has just written a volume of verses which are finer than anything that's been done since--well, for _ages_!

_Sir Rup._ What sort of verses?

_Lady Culv._ Well, they're charmingly bound. I've got the book in the house, somewhere. ROHESIA told me to send for it; but I haven't had time to read it yet.

_Sir Rup._ Shouldn't be surprised if ROHESIA hadn't, either.

_Lady Culv._ At all events, she's heard it talked about. The young man's verses have made quite a sensation; they're so dreadfully clever, and revolutionary, and morbid and pessimistic, and all that, so she made me promise to ask him down here to meet her!

_Sir Rup._ Devilish thoughtful of her.

_Lady Culv._ Wasn't it? She thought it might be a valuable experience for him; he's sprung, I believe, from _quite_ the middle class.

_Sir Rup._ Don't see myself why should he be sprung on _us_. Why can't ROHESIA ask him to her own place?

_Lady Culv._ I daresay she will, if he turns out to be quite presentable. And, of course, he _may_, RUPERT, for anything we can tell.

_Sir Rup._ Then you've never seen him yourself! How did you manage to ask him here, then?

_Lady Culv._ Oh, I wrote to him through his publishers. ROHESIA says that's the usual way with literary persons one doesn't happen to have met. And he wrote to say he would come.

_Sir Rup._ So we're to have a morbid revolutionary poet staying in the house, are we? He'll come down to dinner in a flannel shirt and no tie--or else a _red_ one--if he don't bring down a beastly bomb and try to blow us all up! You'll find you've made a mistake, ALBINIA, depend upon it.

_Lady Culv._ Dear RUPERT, aren't you just a little bit _narrow_? You forget that nowadays the very best houses are proud to entertain Genius--no matter _what_ their opinions and appearance may be. And besides, we don't know what changes may be coming. Surely it is wise and prudent to conciliate the clever young men who might inflame the masses against us. ROHESIA thinks so; she says it may be our only chance of stemming the rising tide of Revolution, RUPERT!

_Sir Rup._ Oh, if ROHESIA thinks a revolution can be stemmed by asking a few poets down from Saturday to Monday, she might do _her_ share of the stemming at all events.

_Lady Culv._ But you will be _nice_ to him, RUPERT, won't you?

_Sir Rup._ I don't know that I'm in the habit of being uncivil to any guest of yours in this house, my dear, but I'll be hanged if I _grovel_ to him, you know; the tide ain't as high as all that. But it's an infernal nuisance, 'pon my word it is; you must look after him yourself, _I_ can't. I don't know what to talk to geniuses about; I've forgotten all the poetry I ever learnt. And if he comes out with any of his Red Republican theories in _my_ hearing, why----

_Lady Culv._ Oh, but he _won't_, dear. I'm certain he'll be quite mild and inoffensive. Look at SHAKSPEARE--the bust, I mean--and _he_ began as a poacher!

_Sir Rup._ Ah, and this chap would put down the Game Laws if he could, I daresay; do away with everything that makes the country worth living in. Why, if he had his way, ALBINIA, there wouldn't be----

_Lady Culv._ I know, dear, I know. And you must make him see all that from _your_ point. Look, the weather really seems to be clearing a little. We might all of us get out for a drive or something after lunch. I would ride, if _Deerfoot_'s all right again; he's the only horse I ever feel _really_ safe upon, now.

_Sir Rup._ Sorry, my dear, but you'll have to drive then. ADAMS tells me the horse is as lame as ever this morning, and he don't know what to make of it. He suggested having HORSFALL over, but I've no faith in the local vets myself, so I wired to town for old SPAVIN. He's seen _Deerfoot_ before, and we could put him up for a night or two. (_To_ TREDWELL, _the butler, who enters with a telegram._) Eh, for me? just wait, will you, in case there's an answer. (_As he opens it._) Ah, this _is_ from SPAVIN--h'm, nuisance! "Regret unable to leave at present, bronchitis, junior partner could attend immediately if required.--SPAVIN." Never knew he _had_ a partner.

_Tredw._ I did hear, Sir RUPERT, as Mr. SPAVIN was looking out for one quite recent, being hasthmatical, m'lady, and so I suppose this is him as the telegram alludes to.

_Sir Rup._ Very likely. Well, he's sure to be a competent man. We'd better have him, eh, ALBINIA?

_Lady Culv._ Oh, yes, and he must stay till _Deerfoot_'s better. I'll speak to POMFRET about having a room ready in the East Wing for him. Tell him to come by the 4.45, RUPERT. We shall be sending the omnibus in to meet that.

_Sir Rup._ All right, I've told him. (_Giving the form to_ TREDWELL.) See that that's sent off at once, please. (_After_ TREDWELL _has left._) By the way, ALBINIA, ROHESIA may kick up a row if she has to come up in the omnibus with a vet, eh?

_Lady Culv._ Goodness, so she might! but he needn't go _inside_. Still, if it goes on raining--I'll tell THOMAS to order a fly for him at the station, and then there _can't_ be any bother about it.

* * * * *

* * * * *

SONGS OF THE STREETS.

No. I.--BOUQUET DE BABYLON; OR, THE CITIZEN'S EVENING WALK.

Pheugh! Doctors may talk, but--I've _been for a walk_, which they swear will keep down adiposity, And preserve your liver from chill and shiver, or growing a shrivelled callosity. So I put on my hat--for I _am_ getting fat!-- and I've _been_ for a walk--in the City. The result of that walk? Well my mouth is like chalk and my eyes feel all smarting and gritty; I've got a sore throat from the matter afloat in the air. It may sound like a fable, But I'm game for betting that London is getting one large and malodorous _stable_!!

Dear days of MCADAM! If _only_ we had 'em, with all disadvantages, back again! Oh! to hear the rattle of well-shod cattle upon the old granite-laid track again. But this wooden pavement, e'en after lavement is simple enslavement to nastiness, For when it is dry 'tis foul dust in your eye, and when moist mere malodorous pastiness. Oh, slip-sloppy Cabby, this _Bouquet de Babylon_ sniffs of ammonia horridly, And stable-dust flying is terribly trying when Phoebus is pouring down torridly!

My palate quite hot is, my larynx and glottis feel like an Augean Sahara, I'm frantic with drouth, and the taste in my mouth is a mixed Malebolge and Marah. The water-carts come; but they're only a hum, for the sun and the wind dry it up again, And then on manure in a powder impure the pedestrian's fated to sup again. It's worse than a circus. If men from the "Vorkus" were turned on to keep it well swept up, There _might_ be improvement. But there's no such movement; the dire thorax-torture is kept up.

Manure-desiccation sets up irritation and then inflammation will follow, Your tonsils get red, you've a pain in your head, and you find it a labour to swallow. And as to your nose!--well, I do not suppose for that organ reformers feel pity, Or I really can't think every species of stink would find such ready home in the City. There's nothing more foul than your grim Asphalte-ghoul, --save that dread Tophet Valley of BUNYAN'S!-- And then manhole whiffs! Or nose-torturing sniffs from the shops that sell "Sausage-and-onions"!!

What everyone knows is the human proboscis this _Bouquet de Babylon_ bothers. Surely pavements of wood cannot be very good when they lead to such stenches and smothers. Ah, Sir, and dear Madam, I'm sure old MCADAM --though scientist prigs may prove sceptic-- Would be welcomed back by the sore-throated pack. Mother Earth is the true Antiseptic!! And so ends my talk on a late evening walk, and the woes of this dashed wooden pavement, Which worries my nose, sets my thorax in throes, my nostrils stuffs up, till I'm like a pug pup, all snorts, sniffs, and snuffles; my temper it ruffles; gives me a choked lung, and a coppery tongue, a stomach at war, and a nasal catarrh; a cough and a sneeze, and a gurgle and wheeze; a thirst quite immense, and a general sense that the bore is intense; and a perfect conviction, beyond contradiction, that till the new brood paved our city with wood, and its air made impure with dust-powdered manure, I never was sure that at last I had hit on one poor true-born Briton who _was_ for a sore-throated slave meant!

* * * * *

CABBY'S ANSWERS.

(_To Mr. James Payn's Conundrum._)

["Why does a cabman always indignantly refuse his proper fare?"--JAMES PAYN.]

Oh well, becos fare is _not_ fair! Becos sech lots o' fares is shabby! Becos yer Briton is a bear, Or else a blessed ignerent babby! Becos bare fare comes bloomin' 'ard, And wot is 'ard cannot be "proper"! Becos we're worrited by the "Yard," The British Female and the "Copper"! Becos if yer takes wot is guv, Yer fare thinks 'e's too freely "parted"! The more _you_ shows yer "brotherly love" The more the fare gets 'arder 'earted. Becos if one bob for two mile You takes, wivout a botheration, Fare sniffs a diddle in yer smile; (That's wy we puts on hindignation!) Becos "strike-measure" do _not_ pay, In sububs lone, with fare's wot's shabby. Becos--well fin'lly. _I_ should say, Becos Fare's Fare, and Cabby's Cabby!

* * * * *

* * * * *

"VIVE LA RÉPUBLIQUE!"

ENGLAND TO FRANCE.--JUNE, 1894.

Aye! Long live the Republic! 'Tis the cry Wrung from us even while the shadow of death Sudden projected, makes us catch our breath In a sharp agony of sympathy. Her servants fall, but she--she doth not die; She strideth forward, firm of foot as Fate, In calm invincibility elate; The tear that brimmeth, blindeth not her eye, So fixed aloft it lowereth not to greet The writhing reptile bruised by her unfaltering feet!

_Vive la République!_ How can we who love Fair France's charm, and sorrow at her sorrow, Better bear witness, on the bitter morrow Of her black grief, than lifting high above Even the mourning that all hearts must move, _That cry_, blent of goodwill and gratulation? _Vive la République!_ In the whole stricken nation Doth not the dumbness of Pretenders prove The land's possession by that cleansing fire, Which purges patriot love from every low desire?

Sister in sorrow now, as once in arms, Of old "fair enemy" on many a field, In valiant days but blind, we will not yield To any in that sympathy which warms All generous hearts, or love of those gay charms Nature and Genius gave you as your own To wear, inimitable and alone; And now the asp-hearted Anarch's mad alarms Make monstrous tumult in the midst of peace We cry "let brothers band till Cain-like slayers cease!"

The slaughtered son you bear from forth the fray,-- Like some winged Victory, or a Goddess high, With steps unshaken, glance that seeks the sky, Such as your glorious sculptors shape from clay,-- Was noble, brave, and blameless; him to slay Was the blood-blinded phrenzy of black hate. Through him the Anarch struck at your high state, Fair choice of France, but baffled crawls away. Prone at your feet your faithful servant fell, But you stride calmly on, unscathed, invulnerable.

So may it be till Anarchy's stealthy blade Falls pointless, shattered, from its palsied grasp, And helpless, harmless as a fangless asp It slinks from freedom's pathway, foiled, afraid, Whilst the Republic, strong and undismayed, With robe unsmirched, its hem no longer gory, Strides proudly on the true high path of glory. Take, France, a sister's wreath, before you laid, In honour of you, and of your hero brave. Love's garland shall not fade on gallant CARNOT'S grave!

* * * * *

A PUZZLER.

SIR,--I enclose a cutting from the _Manchester Guardian_, June 25.

"Yesterday the Darwen police arrested THOMAS BECKETT, a weaver. During a disturbance in a local public-house on Saturday night BECKETT was kicked under the chin, and died immediately."

Query when was THOMAS BECKETT arrested? What became of the man who, in the "disturbance," kicked BECKETT under the chin?

Yours, SNIPPER.

* * * * *

"THE NEW BOY."--Doing wonderfully well. "Going strong."--_White Lodge, Richmond._

* * * * *

* * * * *

GAIETY "SANS-GÊNE."

_Madame Sans-Gêne_, represented by Madame RÉJANE, at the Gaiety Theatre, has made a decided hit. The plot of the piece by Messieurs SARDOU and MOREAU is poor, but it shows what an experienced dramatist can do with meagre materials and one strikingly good notion. It seems as if the plan of the play was started from the idea of an interview between the great NAPOLEON, when Emperor, with a washerwoman whose bill for washing and mending he, when only a poor lieutenant, had been unable to discharge. This scene is the scene _par excellence_ of the piece. It is here that both Madame RÉJANE and M. DUQUESNE are at their very best. Besides this, and the scene between _Napoléon_, _La Reine Caroline_, and _Madame de Bulow_, when there is a regular family row admirably acted by M. DUQUESNE, with the tongs, and Mlles. VERNEUIL and SUGER with their glib tongues, there is very little in the piece.

M. CANDÉ, as the sergeant who rises to _Maréchal_, is very good, as is also M. LERAND, as _Fouché_. Madame RÉJANE is a thorough _comédienne_, but it is most unlikely (good as are historically the stories told about this same washerwoman elevated to the rank of Duchess) that she, in an interval of nineteen years--_i.e._, between 1792 and 1811--should not have been able to wear her costume with, at all events, some grace and dignity, and it is most improbable that the clever _blanchisseuse_ of 1792 should, in 1811, have found any difficulty in managing her Court costume without rendering herself outrageously ridiculous. All this hitching up of the dress and kicking out of the leg "goes" immensely with the audience; and this must be the _comédienne's_ excuse for overdoing the farcical business of her chief scenes, save the best of all, which, as I have already surmised, was the motive of the piece, namely, the scene with the Emperor in the Third Act. Here she is perfect, only just assuming so much of her old manner as would naturally come to her when chatting with "the little Corporal" over old times.

As to M. DUQUESNE as _Napoléon premier_,--well, middle-aged play-goers will call to mind Mr. BENJAMIN WEBSTER as a far more perfect portrait of the great Emperor than is M. DUQUESNE, but the latter has the advantage in manner, and realises the Emperor's traditional eccentric habits in a way which at once appeals to all conversant with the story of the eccentricities of the Great Emperor when he chanced to be in a very good humour. Perhaps nowadays there are very few who read LEVER'S works, but a dip into _Charles O'Malley_, with PHIZ'S spirited illustrations, will give exactly the phase of NAPOLEON'S character that Messrs. SARDOU and MOREAU have depicted in this piece.

The play is well mounted, and the acting of all, from the leading parts to the very least, is about as good as it can be. The incidents of the drama are not particularly novel, but they are safe, and to every Act there is a good dramatic finish. Madame RÉJANE may congratulate herself and "Co." on a decided success in London.

* * * * *

MRS. R. was driving lately in a friend's barouche, which seemed to swing about a great deal, and made her feel rather uncomfortable. She was not surprised at this, however, when she heard the carriage was on "Sea" springs!

* * * * *

ROBERT ON THE WONDERFUL BRIDGE AGAIN.

I reely begins for to think as how as a truly onest Waiter, as knos his place, and his warious dooties, and is allers sivil and hobligin, gits more respected and more thort on the holder he gros. Here have I bin atending at the werry best houses both at the West Hend, and also at the pride of all Hed Waiters, the onered Manshun Ouse, for nearly twenty long ears, and I can trewly say as I allers gets a sivil word from everyboddy. And when sumboddy was speshally wanted the other day to sho that most himportent Body, the London Press, all over the Wunderfool Tower Bridge, so that they coud give a trew and correct acount of all its wunders for the newspaper peeple to read and wunder at, who did the clever Chairman select to help in that most himportent hoffice but me, tho I am only ROBERT the Citty Waiter! And when the thowsends and tens of thowsends of peeple red the gloing acounts as filled the Press a day or too arterwards, they little thort perhaps of the many risks as the pore Waiter ran to save hisself and the reporters from the fallin Grannit, and the blocks of mettel, as every now and then fell about us!

One of the werry biggest and blackest of the hole lot fell within about six foot of where I stood, so jest another six foot mite have put a hend to a Waiter who, I fondly hopes, has done his duty like a man and a Brother, tho many peeple did sumtimes larf at him.

Strange to say, only jest 2 days before my honered wisit to the wunderfool Bridge, I was arsked to take a jurney to Boolong, which I bleeves is in France, and back again in the same day! but I aint a werry good Sailer so I thort I had better decline it. So BROWN went in my place, and werry much he says he injoyed it, tho he didn't git home till eleven o Clock at night!

I don't think as he's a werry good sailer, so, if he did enjoy it, the sea must have bin werry uncommon smooth, and both ways, too! He says it ways a butiful new wessell, and called the _Margerreet_, which, strange to say, was his Grandmother's name, which may acount for its treeting him so smoothly.

Most of the Gents of the London Press on their wisit to the Big Bridge seemed to think most of the opening and shuttin of the enormers shutters as they opened and shut all of their own acord to let the big ships go thro, and werry wunderfool they suttenly was, but to my poor mind, ewery body as reelly wants to see the most butiful part of the hole show shoud have hisself took up in the lift to the walk along the top, which is only about 240 feet high, and then he can have such a grand view of our butiful river Tems as werry few has ewer had since it was fust made. One of the Press Gents, seeing me staring at it with wunder and admiration, came up to me and sed, "Why, Mr. ROBERT, you've most suttenly picked out the most lovely view of the lot. I don't know what enormus distance we can see, but if you looks just where I'm a pinting you will see the Kristel Pallis, and it don't look more than a mile or two away!" No more it did! And as for the crowds of ships as we coud see with our naked eyes, I schod have thort they was more than ewer entered the River in a month or two, and all round was the butiful hills and grand houses, and everythink looking chock full of bussel and prosperity, and all quite reddy to make use of the butiful Bridge as soon as ever it was opened! as it was by the nobel Prince of WALES on the following Satterday. ROBERT.

* * * * *

WHITHER AWAY?

Must it be Margate? Shall it be Dover? How hit the target, Spend summer in clover? Why not to Filey Flit, or to Yarmouth? Will the Welsh rile me If I try Barmouth? South Coast's entrancing, East builds and braces; Blue waves are dancing At hundreds of places! Soon must I settle, Unless I'm a craven, And grasping the nettle Decide on a haven. Fine hills at Malvern; Harrogate haunts me; Lynmouth is all fern; What is it daunts me?

Well, to speak truly, There's no place like London, In March or in July, When well, or when run down! Train in a twinkling Brightonward bears me; If I want sprinkling In the face a "chute" stares me. Summer's delightful In Town--nerves feel regal; Cabbies not spiteful Offered what's legal! Yes, I'll take holiday When it grows chilly; Why at _this_ jolly day Flee Piccadilly? Is the end vapid? Can't help it!--Next snow-time By "P. L. M. _Rapide_" I reach Nice in no time!

* * * * *

BEWARE!--As wood pavement is said to be injurious to throats, specially in summer time, it would be advisable not to reside in the Northern district, as the roads there must be all St. John's Wood pavement.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE LOWER EDUCATION OF WOMEN.

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.

What are the duties of a cook? Do these duties differ from those of (_a_) a housemaid, (_b_) a parlour-maid, and (_c_) a general servant?

2. Can money be saved by a deposit account at the stores? If so, compare the store prices with the charges made at a West End shop for beef, mutton, potatoes, muslin, and mixed biscuits?

3. If a dinner (with wine) for four costs £6 10_s._ at a club, how much should a dinner for eight (four males and four females) cost at home?

4. What do you know of the School for Cookery?

5. Give briefly the best way of living on £500 a year on the basis that your husband is a clerk in a Government office, and your family consists of a daughter, aged fourteen, and a son rising seven.

HISTORY.

1. Give a short account of the life of any one of the following eminent wives who were a comfort to their husbands--CATHERINE PARR, Queen MARY, and HENRIETTA MARIA, Consort of CHARLES THE FIRST.

2. Point out the mistakes of MARIE ANTOINETTE in special regard to the career of LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH.

3. Give some of the reasons why Queen ELIZABETH preferred celibacy to marriage, and prove that those reasons were fallacies.

4. Give a short account of the married life of DAVID COPPERFIELD, and criticise the _ménages_ of his first and his second wife.

GENERAL.

1. What are the duties of a wife and a matron?

2. Supposing your husband to have come home weary from a hard day's work, should you read him your latest novel, or see that he gets his supper?

3. In your opinion which is of greater importance, your gown, or your knowledge of Greek?

4. Write an essay upon the respective merits of being known as the wife of your mate, or your poorer-half being called "Mrs. So-and-So's husband."

* * * * *

* * * * *

A SOFT ANSWER.

(_An Unpublished Letter to a Whisterical Wesleyan, which shows the infinite possibilities of historic parallels._)

DEAR SIR,--I am much obliged to you for your letter, in which you call my attention to the widespread practice of whist-playing, and in particular to the deteriorating effect of threepenny points.

May I remind you of the fact, which I make no doubt you have temporarily overlooked, that JOHN WESLEY'S favourite game was whist? Like JOHN WESLEY, I play whist, and I do not mind confessing that when I get a good hand I am none the worse pleased. Believe me, Yours faithfully,

R-S-B-RY.

* * * * *

BALLADE OF IMITATIONS.

(_With Apologies to Miss Loftus for calling her "Cissie."_)

The weary worldling of to-day Uneasy wanders to and fro To find in all things, grave or gay. Just nothing that is "worth a blow," (Forgive the curious phrase,) although It's absolutely certain, this--he Will praise in phrases all aglow The imitative charms of CISSIE.

The orchestra begins to play, The lights are high that once were low. Then CISSIE comes without delay, Her simple dress tied with a bow. How kind of Fortune to bestow On us this captivating Missie. 'Twere vain to try to overthrow The imitative charms of CISSIE.

Miss FLORENCE ST. JOHN'S artless way, Miss YOHÈ in her ballad "_Oh, Oh, Honey, Honey!_" or JANE MAY As _Pierrette_ and _Pierrot_, YVETTE GUILBERT'S superb _argot_, Miss LETTY LIND in "_Kissie, Kissie_," Are all invoked to help to show The imitative charms of CISSIE.

_L' Envoi._

Friend, if you chance to find it slow, And seek a joyous form of diss- ipation, quickly get to know The imitative charms of CISSIE.

* * * * *

PARTIALLY UNREPORTED DIALOGUE.

"A DEANE should be more reverend," said Mr. WILLIS, Q.C., in the BETTINI case.

"Where there's a _Will is_ a way," retorted Mr. DEANE, Q.C. "'If you will be honest with me, I will be honest with you.'"

"The whole matter is very clear," interposed the learned Judge, severely. "Mr. BETTINI-WILLIS expects from the DEANE, chapter----"

"And verse," interposed Mr. DEANE, Q.C., and straightway broke out melodiously with--

"'Tis good to be merry and wise, 'Tis good to be thorough and true, If you will be honest with me, My Q.C., Then I will be honest with you!"

Chorus of everybody. Harmonious proceedings, and Court adjourned.

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, June 25._--Asquith back on Treasury Bench quite a changed man. Anxious air that marked his appearance through last week disappeared. Painful to watch him as he then sat on Bench with one eye on the door. Started at rustle of paper of amendments. Half rose from his seat if a book fell.

"Yes TOBY," he said, when I congratulated him on the happy accomplishment of the event; "it's not the kind of thing I should like to go through every six months. Till he's tried it, no one knows what it is to have a steam engine stationed at his front door night and day with steam up ready to whisk him off to White Lodge at a moment's notice." HOME SECRETARY managed to keep much cooler than the Mayor of RICHMOND. This morning the papers ablaze with telegrams from that functionary. SZLUMPER is his name, Surrey is his county. As soon as notification made of birth of prince, SZLUMPER took off his coat and set to work. First telegraphed to happy Duke and Duchess of TECK at White Lodge. Then bethought him of happier father; so Duke of YORK hears from SZLUMPER who "trusts Her Royal Highness and son are doing well." SZLUMPER'S appetite growing with what it feeds upon, he next approaches HER MAJESTY with "loyal and sincere congratulations." Finally, the Prince and Princess of WALES at Marlborough House hear from him. SZLUMPER always signs his name _tout court_, like a peer of the realm.

"He's splendid this SZLUMPER," said the Member for SARK. "Reminds me of a story I heard in America about Judge HOAR. He had great dislike to WENDELL PHILLIPS. When the great orator died they gave him a splendid funeral. A friend meeting the judge on morning of event said, 'Aren't you going to the funeral?' 'No,' said HOAR, 'but I approve it.'"

It wasn't SZLUMPER'S accouchement. But he approves it.

Still on Budget; getting near end of first part, which deals with death duties. The Busy B.'s, seeing the close of opportunity at hand, dash about with redoubled vigour.

Oh! 'tis BARTLEY and BOWLES and BYRNE, And BYRNE and BARTLEY and BOWLES. Till the throbbing pulses burn, And BUTCHER piles on the coals.

_Business done._--Clause XVIII. added to Budget Bill.

_Wednesday._--GRANDOLPH sails to-day in the track of COLUMBUS, only going much farther. He will cross Continent and Pacific to pay a morning call on the MIKADO; afterwards to India and Burma.

"I want," he says, with certain proud pathos, "to see the frontier I extended, and Burma which I annexed."

You remember the old French song written about GRANDOLPH'S great ancestor? It was sung as a lullaby to the little son of LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH, and NAPOLEON never mounted his horse for the fight without humming the air,--

MARLBROOK s'en va-t'en guerre-- Mironton, mironton, mirontaine! MARLBROOK s'en va-t'en guerre ... Ne sais quand reviendra! Ne sais quand reviendra! Ne sais quand reviendra!

There is a sad last verse to the old ballad. But we all hope to see our GRANDOLPH back again, bringing his sheaves with him in the shape of renewed health and strength. _Business done._--Budget.

_Thursday._--DON'T KEIR HARDIE confided to House to-night the interesting fact that in particular he Don't Keir for the Royal Family, and is "indisposed to associate himself" with effort to do them special honour. Like old _Eccles_ in _Caste_, he upbraids the baby in the cradle with being a young aristocrat. Yet there are limits even to his uncompromising Republicanism. The question before House is the presentation to HER MAJESTY of address of congratulation on birth of son of Duke and Duchess of YORK. "If I had the opportunity of meeting the parents," says DON'T KEIR, "I should be pleased to join in the ordinary congratulations of the occasion." He did not hesitate, standing in his place in Parliament as representative of the electors of 'Am, to add that he "had been delighted to learn that the child was a fairly healthy one." Beyond that, stern principle would not permit him to pass.

Note that he felt constrained to modify even this approval of proceedings at White Lodge by introduction of the word "fairly." ASQUITH, who knows all about it, seemed for moment inclined to resent this aspersion on the perfect soundness of the object of his recent attentions; on reflection he let it pass. SAUNDERSON, of whom House has seen lamentably little of late, was under less complete self-restraint. When DON'T KEIR turned his attention upon Prince of WALES, proposing to appraise his value to the nation, SAUNDERSON leaped to his feet, and moved that "the hon. Member be no longer heard."

A difficult moment this. The Motion being made, the SPEAKER must put it from the Chair. Many Members, whilst justly angered with DON'T KEIR'S grotesque performance, would have felt bound to resent what might be construed as attempt to throttle free speech. There would have been long and angry debate; a succession of scenes; and DON'T KEIR HARDIE would have been triumphantly advertised. Happily, though, strictly considered, irregularly, the SQUIRE OF MALWOOD interposed; expressed hope that Motion would not be persevered in. SAUNDERSON perceiving his mistake acquiesced, and DON'T KEIR HARDIE went on to final ignominious collapse. When in crowded House question put that Address be presented, a solitary cry of "No" answered the loud shout "Aye." House cleared for division; but when opportunity of taking final step presented itself, it turned out that HARDIE Didn't Keir to take it.

"Now if this were France in the days when the Empire was tottering to its fall," said SARK, "I should suspect the secret police to have put up DON'T KEIR to play their game in stirring up embers of popularity of Imperial Family. In England to-day, of course, no necessity for such manoeuvre. But if by outside influence the popularity the Prince of WALES has worked out for himself could be increased, DON'T KEIR HARDIE'S the man to do it."

_Business done._--QUEEN congratulated on birth of latest great-grandson.

_Friday._--Been much struck through week by appearance of stranger in Speaker's Gallery. Every night about quarter of an hour after questions over he has come in; gone out again a little after eight, about time SPEAKER, when in chair, leaves for his chop. Comes back punctually in half an hour; remains till fifteen or twenty minutes before progress is reported, and Chairman of Committees makes way for SPEAKER. Something about him familiar, though never before that I remember have I seen that stubbly red beard, or those green, goggly spectacles. Quite fascinated me. To-night went up and sat in gallery behind him.

At ten minutes past eight, amendment before Committee disposed of, the stranger rose; heard him exclaim under his breath, "Order! Order!" saw him clutch at imaginary robe, and stride forth with stately tread. Truth burst upon me with a flash.

_It was the SPEAKER!_

"You're a dangerous person to have about the premises, TOBY," he said as we made our way by circuitous route to Speaker's Court. "Every day for last fortnight I have written out myself an order for the Speaker's Gallery, have passed the doorkeepers unobserved, and remained hour after hour unnoticed. Then your eagle eye falls upon me and all is lost. Pray don't let the secret go any further. Fact is, for weeks and weeks I've been shut out of my proper place by this Budget Bill. Questions last half an hour or an hour. Then House goes into Committee, and I'm shunted save for few moments after midnight, when I adjourn the House. Couldn't stand it any longer. Might as well be in Kamtchatka. So have had recourse to this innocent device, and have thoroughly enjoyed my evenings."

_Business done._--Once through Committee on Budget Bill. Pick up dropped threads next week.

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Transcriber's Note:

Added punctuation marks not present in the original, without further note.

On page 12, corrected "embers of popularitity" to "embers of popularity."