reticence which is said to have been the distinguishing mark of unmarried girlhood at some former period. That she should talk frivolously on great subjects, if she talks on them at all, is only to be expected. It would be well if her curiosity and her conversation left untouched delicate matters, the existence of which she may suspect but ought certainly to ignore.

After she has thus flaunted her brilliant health and beauty through several Seasons, she may begin to tire of an existence, which in spite of its general freedom, is subject to certain restraints. She therefore decides to emancipate herself by submitting to a husband. She finds no difficulty, with the assistance of her mother, in discarding the penniless subaltern who has devoted himself to her, and whom she has induced to believe that she preferred to the whole world. Having received an offer from a gentleman of presentable looks and immense possessions, she promptly accepts it, and gains to her own surprise a considerable reputation for judgment and discretion. It is quite possible that after a year or two of giddy married life she may decline gradually into a British Matron, respected alike on account of her increasing family, and her substantial appearance.

THE BOY THE FATHER OF THE MAN.—The Chairman of the Infant Insurance Committee, asked a skilled witness, "Is a man his own child, or another person's child?" This led to an altercation, and the room had to be cleared while the question was debated. On the return of the Public, the query was repeated without a satisfactory result. And yet the evident answer is, that he is another person's child, except when he is "a self-made man."

PUNCH TO PRIMROSE.

OFF DUTY.

Punch (to Primrose). "YOU'VE SHOWN HIM THE RIGHT WAY TO DO IT. HE OUGHT TO BE ABLE TO GET ALONG NOW."

ON WITH THE NEW LOVE.

(Mr. Punch to His Boys at Bisley.)

THE PROFESSIONAL GUEST.

ON A HOUSE-BOAT AT HENLEY.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

When I received a wire from an old and dear school-friend, saying, "LUCY disappointed; come for week; wire me, Goldfields, Henley—KITTY," I felt that the Art which I had been so assiduously cultivating for some time past was to be put in practice at last. I had long decided that there was a grand opening for girls (the true unemployed) in the idea, and I had determined to make a good thing out of it myself. KITTY' S telegram was somewhat vague, I admit; but gossip having thrown a side-light on it, I knew that it came from Henley, where she and her husband (whom I had never yet seen) had a House-boat for the Regatta week. To answer in the affirmative, pack my box, and catch the next train to Henley, was small work to a "Professional Guest."

When I arrived, I walked straight out of the station to the nearest wharf, and, chartering a punt, had my luggage and myself placed on board, and then told the small boy, who "manned" the craft, to take me to the Goldfields. I was not too well pleased when he threw doubts, not only on her whereabouts, but on her existence. Neither the small boy nor a big man, nor an old woman standing by, knew anything about it; and I had determined to take the next train to Town, when a flannel-clad young man, with a heavy face and a peevish voice, called out from the bank, "I've been looking for you everywhere." It proved to be KITTY'S husband, but, as we were totally unacquainted with each other's appearances, it was not wonderful that his search for me had been ineffectual. He seemed much annoyed, however, and only vouchsafed one remark as we punted, or, rather, waltzed (for the small boy was a "dry bob," I think), down stream towards the Goldfields. "It's all KITTY'S fault,—LUCY'S come." Of course this was awkward, but, on arrival, KITTY was so hospitable, and LUCY so pretty, that, though our sleeping and dressing apartment was astonishingly small, and I made the odd girl out at dinner, I felt I could not mind much, and I also got over the little contretemps of my dressing-bag being dropped into the river—"by accident," said KITTY'S husband.

Owing to the heat and the unaccustomed noise of the river, neither LUCY nor I slept much; and, though we were told next morning we could not have any baths, the whole scene was so bright and sparkling that nobody (except KITTY'S husband, who seemed of a morose disposition) could with reason have complained of anything. It continued to sparkle till the first train came down from town, when our guests and the rain arrived together. It was a dreadful nuisance, as the awning, which, with the flowers, had