mutual consent. I ain't what you call a fancy 'orseman. We've got to go at that 'urdle in a minute. How do you like the ideer, eh? It's no good funking it—it's got to be done!

R.M. Now, Captin—not you, Captin CROPPER—Captin 'EDSTALL, I mean, will you show them the way over, please?

[Captain H. rides at it; the cob jumps too short, and knocks the hurdle down—to his rider's intense disgust.

Mr. S. I say, Guv'nor, that was a near thing. I wonder you weren't off.

Capt. H. I—ah—don't often come off.

Mr. S. You won't say that when you've been 'ere a few times. You see, they've put you on a quiet animal this journey. I shall try to get him myself next time. He be'aves like a gentleman, he does!

Capt. H. You won't mount him, if you take my advice—he has rather a delicate mouth.

Mr. S. Oh, I don't mind that—I should ride him on the curb, o' course. [The Class ride at the hurdle, one by one.

R.M. Now, Mr. SNIGGERS, give 'im more of 'is 'ed than that, Sir—or he'll take it.... Oh, Lor, well, it's soft falling luckily! Mr. JOGGLES, Sir, keep him back till you're in a line with it.... Better, Sir; you come down true on your saddle afterwards, anyway!... Mr. PARABOLE!... Ah, would you? Told you he was tricky, Sir! Try him at it again.... Now—over!... Yes, and it is over, and no mistake!

Mrs. B.-K. Now it's ROBERT's turn. I'm afraid he's been overtiring himself, he looks so pale. BOB, you won't let him jump too high, will you?— Oh, I daren't look. Tell me, my love,—is he safe?

Her Friend. Perfectly—they're just brushing him down.

AFTERWARDS.

Mrs. B.-K. (to her Son). Oh, BOB, you must never think of jumping again—it is such a dangerous amusement!

Robert (who has been cursing the hour in which he informed his parent of the exact whereabouts of the school.) It's all right with a horse that knows how to jump. Mine didn't.

The Friend. I thought you seemed to jump a good deal higher than the horse did. They ought to be trained to keep close under you, oughtn't they? [ROBERT wonders if she is as guileless as she looks.

Capt. Cropper (to the R.M.). Oh, takes about eight months, with a lesson every day, to make a man efficient in the Cavalry, does it? But, look here—I suppose four more lessons will put me all right, eh? I've had eight, y'know.

R.M. Well, Sir, if you arsk me, I dunno as another arf dozen'll do you any 'arm—but, o'course, that's just as you feel about it.

[Captain CROPPER endeavours to extract encouragement from this Delphic response.

THE RUSSIAN WOLF AND THE HEBREW LAMB.

(After a well-known Picture.)

TIT-WILLOW.

(A New Version.)

["Last year I fed the tomtits with a cocoanut, suspended on a stick outside my window, and they came greedily. This year I forgot all about it, but, hearing a clamour in a fuchsia-bush outside my study window ... I found myself besieged by an army of tomtits ... Was it memory, or association of ideas, or both?"—Rev. F.G. Montague Powell, in the "Spectator."]

"The Passing of Arthur."—After Ivanhoe, Sir Arthur Sullivan's new Opera, has appeared at Mr. D'OYLY CARTE's new theatre, the Knightly and Daily Composer will rest his musical brain for a year, and will place his Savoy throne at the disposal of Prince Edward Solomon, direct descendant of the wisest monarch ever known save for one amiable weakness. The successor to King Arthur has plenty of "Savoy Faire," and a good choice has been made. The Carte will now be drawn along merrily enough, and, no doubt, it will be a brilliant time when Sol, in all his glory, comes out and shines at the Savoy.

NEW IRISH POLITICAL PARTY NAME.—For the followers of Mr. PARNELL, the best name in future would be "The Faux-Par-nellites."

TRUE FEMININE DELICACY OF FEELING.

Emily (who has called to take Lizzie to the great Murder Trial). "What deep Black, dearest!"

Lizzie. "Yes. I thought it would be only decent, as the poor Wretch is sure to be found Guilty."

Emily. "Ah! Where I was Dining last night, it was even betting which way the Verdict would go, so I only put on Half Mourning!"

A PORTIA À LA RUSSE.

["I repeat that a great military Power, having at her disposal an army of two millions of well-disciplined and drilled soldiers, whom no European country dares to attack single-handed, can face calmly, and even good-humouredly, both the wild attacks of unscrupulous publicists, and mistaken protests of philanthropic meetings, though these be as imposing and brilliant as the Lord Mayor's Show itself."—Madame Novikoff's Letter to the "Times," on "The Jews in Russia."]