the pier. If scep-

tical, ask ancient ladies, once the Damsels of Dieppe.

MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.

ELECTIONEERING.

"The Party which befriends the cause of the Working-Man;" i.e., "The Party which (at election-time) rather wishes it had done so."

"The Party which advocates economy and keeps down taxation;" i.e., "The Party which likes to make its opponents do the expenditure on Army, Navy, &c."

IN THE SMOKING-ROOM.

"I remember, years ago, I used to take exactly the same view myself;" i.e., "But, unlike you, I have made some use of my opportunities and experience since then."

"But there you see you are begging the whole question" or, "My good fellow, you're only arguing in a circle;" i.e., "Rather than admit that I am wrong, I would begin the argument over again."

"Of course you remember that splendid passage in ——;" i.e., "Decided score! Know you haven't ever heard of the book."

SHAKSPEARE's "deeds" going to America? The World is the richer for his words, and certainly to the country of his birth belong the records of his deeds.

JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.

SIXTH ENTRY.

Still endeavouring to earn an honest, but unpleasant, penny as a (temporary) Private Tutor. Begin to be vaguely conscious that my grasp of the Latin Grammar is not as firm as it might be. Will my classical training see me through, or will "ERNIE" see through my classical training?

ERNIE (before breakfast) offers to conduct me round the grounds. Must take the youngster down a peg or two. So, when he shows me the stables, rather proudly, I remark, pityingly—"What! Only three nags?"

"Oh, I ride a pony," he replies, airily. "What can you ride, Mr. JOYNSON? Do you know how to ride—or do you generally fall off?"

Explain to him elaborately that I am rather more at home on horseback than on my legs. He winks, as if he didn't quite believe me. I can't go on, as it's certainly infra dig. to be praising one's accomplishments, especially to a chit like this.

"We buried NERO here," the boy says, pointing to a damp mound. "He was our Newfoundland dog, and the gardener dropped a beam on him, and killed him as dead as JULIUS CÆSAR. Oh, Mr. JOYNSON, when did JULIUS CÆSAR die?"

Happily my presence of mind does not desert me. I reply, severely,—

"What! Don't you know your Roman History better than that?"

"No," he answers—"do you?" Then a sudden thought strikes him. "Oh, I'll ask Miss MYRTLE" (Miss MYRTLE is the Governess)—"she'll be sure to know. She isn't a muff."

Query—What is the best line to take with a remark like that? Before I decide the point, HERBIE rushes out into the garden, and is immediately sent spinning into a cucumber-frame by his kind elder brother, who then disappears into the house.

Yells from HERBIE. Go in and send the Governess to him. Relief from children for about ten minutes.

At Breakfast.—Mother cross. Seems to think that I ought to have prevented ERNIE from mutilating HERBIE. HERBIE appears with head bandaged, still sobbing. French again, thank Heaven!—so children silent. Never felt the advantage of foreign languages till now.

Mamma, with a courage worthy of a better cause, asks me, "What time lessons will begin?" I reply, evasively, "that I shall be in the library, and that I will ring for ERNEST (I lay stress on the word ERNEST, as excluding the two others) when I am ready for him."

I do, after a good preliminary smoke. HERBIE and JACK present themselves at the same time. I send them off to the Governess, and lock the door; Governess sends them back to me; result is, that they play about outside library all morning, so that we (ERNEST and I) can hardly hear ourselves speak.

Put ERNIE through his paces. Ask him what he knows. Process (I fear) incidentally reveals to him what I know. Hear him at lunch explaining to HERBIE (with whom he has made friends again) that I am "not bad at sums, but a shocking duffer at Latin." Pretend not to hear the remark.

Afternoon.—Find the three boys, and two girls, all waiting—apparently—to go out for a country walk with me!

What! Two-and-two! Never!

"But—er—" I say, addressing the little girls, in a pleasant tone, "aren't you going out with your Governess?"

"Oh, yes"—they both exclaim at once—"she's coming too!"

The situation is becoming more and more embarrassing. I can't, in politeness, refuse the Governess's society for a walk. I solve the problem, temporarily, by telling all five children to run up to Miss MYRTLE, and ask her which way she thinks we had better go.

They perform the commission with alacrity, which gives me the opportunity of slipping out at back-door, and taking quiet ramble by myself. When will Paterfamilias himself turn up? I have not seen or heard from Mr. BRISTOL MERCHANT yet.

I am fated, however, to hear from him pretty soon; and, when I do, his communication is surprising. It comes in the form of a telegram, addressed to me. It runs thus:—

"Just heard President asked you to take tutorship. Misunderstanding. Very sorry, but have myself engaged another tutor. He will arrive this evening. Shall I tell him not to come? Awkward! Wire reply."

Awkward! On the contrary, I feel it to be almost providential. Mamma doesn't apologise, but says, frankly—"Why, if he comes, there'll be two tutors—and one is quite enough!"

I telegraph briefly to the effect, that, under the circumstances, I will go at once.

Bid good-bye (after lunch) to ERNIE, in hall. He says—"I knew you would never do for the place," and ought to have his ears boxed by his fond Mamma, but hasn't. As I go down front walk, see him and HERBIE and JACK all putting out what I think I may appropriately call their "mother tongues" at me from a top window!

Moral—for my own consumption: Never go to an uncultivated family again.

So ends my Tutorship! And I've never once set eyes on my employer all through!

After this fiasco, the President certainly ought to do something handsome for me.

He does! Writes and says how sorry he is to hear of the stupid mistake that has been made. He knows of another very nice family, in Cheshire, who want a Private Tutor. Shall he mention my name to them? Not for worlds!

WHO WOULD NOT BE A TENOR?

The Fair Bohemian Girl:—

"I had riches too great to count, could boast

Of a high ancestral name;...

But I also dreamt, which charmed me most,

That you loved me still the same—

That you loved me, you loved me sti-ill the same!"

(Sketched from a Provincial Pit.)

TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.