"why she was so sad?"

"Because we have a lawyer for our trustee, who is most unobliging, and expensive. I am afraid, kind Sir, you cannot help us."

"Do not say so until you have perused this scroll," he replied, with a benevolent smile, and he gave her a paper. "To-morrow, if your trustee again threatens you, and offers to retire, take him at his word. If I replace him, I will do all you wish—enter into mortgages, invest your capital to the best possible advantage, and make myself generally amiable."

"But how shall we pay you for so much kindness?" asked the now overjoyed maiden.

"By a tariff fixed by the Government. It will be my duty to do my best for you, and I shall have no personal interest in running up costs like the common (or garden) kind of family Solicitor."

So the next day, when the lawyer began to threaten to resign, the orphans took him at his word, and all that the nice-looking old gentleman had foretold came to pass. And when the orphans were getting the best possible interest for their money, at a trifling expense, the maiden looked at the scroll which had been given to her, and found it was inscribed, "The Public Trustee Act."

And, so far as the lawyer, who had been discarded, knew (or cared), the maiden and her brother lived happily ever afterwards.

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

More about DICKENS. By the loving hand of PERCY FITZGERALD the Bookmaker,—not sporting, but literary. Of making books, with PERCY FITZ there is no end. He is the king of the Bookmakers, Per se Fitz. This time it is the History of the Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, published by CHAPMAN AND HALL, and "inscribed"—why not "dedicated?"—to HENRY FIELDING DICKENS, son of "The Only One," the Master. Interesting? Of course it is, anything about DICKENS, specially in connection with the immortal Pickwick, must be interesting, and for chatty, gossiping bookmaking we only say, "Give us Fitz." He is to the manor born. He is neither romancer nor poet: "poeta nascitur non 'Fitz.'" Occasionally FITZ is aggravatingly reticent. For instance, at page 16 we read, "Two or three years ago"—which? two or three?—"a curious and amusing coincidence brought the author's son, a barrister in good practice"—Which son? His name? There were more sons than one: were they all barristers? And was this one the only one in good practice?—"into connection with his father's famous book. It occurred at a trial on the Circuit." Which Circuit? Which is "the Circuit"? The Baron, who is now the Last of the Barons but one, only asks because the phrase "on Circuit" would not have required his query; but "on the Circuit" is another pair of shoes. "A trial." What trial? When? At p. 17, "The Judge entered into the humour of the thing"—what Judge? The Baron is of opinion that in the well-known advertisement about the Waverley Pen, quoted in a note at p. 25, the correct order should be, "The Pickwick, the Owl, and the Waverley Pen"—not Pickwick last. Did CHARLES DICKENS ever write to FORSTER that he was "getting on like a house o' fire"? Surely this should be a "house a-fire," or "a house on fire"; for a "house o' fire" means a "house of fire," which is not what the expression is intended to convey. At p. 51, in a note, FITZ says, "'Phiz, Whizz,' or something of that kind, was T. HOOD's joke." Was it? If so, where does the joke come in?

My friend, the late GEORGE ROSE, better known as "ARTHUR SKETCHLEY," used to say that DICKENS took Sam Weller from (as I understood him) a character in one of O'KEEFE's comedies. This statement was given on the authority of Mr. BAYLE BERNARD. But I am bound to say I can find nothing like Sam in O'KEEFE's; but I have found DICKENS there bodily. It is in Sc. 1, Act I. of Life's Vagaries; or, The Neglected Son. "'Oh!' exclaims FANNY, 'if my papa was to see me—oh!' (Seeing DICKENS, runs; he stops her.)" And, oddly enough, in this edition of 1798, frequently as the above-mentioned character appears, it is "on this occasion only" that the name is spelt with an "E."

Mr. FITZGERALD, at p. 136 of this book, says, that an actor named SAM VALE, appearing as Simon Splatterdash, in a piece called The Boarding-House, was in the habit of "interlarding his conversation with metaphorical illustrations"—and then follow the examples. The Boarding-House, however, is not by O'KEEFE, but, as appears from a note in Sketches by Boz, was being performed when DICKENS's short tale of The Boarding-House appeared. For my part, I long ago came to the conclusion that Sam Weller was absolutely an original creation, as far, that is, as anything outside the immaterial realms of fancy and fairyland can be an original creation. Our FITZ gives CALVERLEY's Examination Paper, and also an Oxford imitation of it, which, however, is not by any means up to the CALVERLEY-BLADES mark. There is also a preface to Pickwick, specially interesting, as not being found in later editions. Then our Fitz informs us how many dramatic versions of Pickwick there have been, some with and some without music, bringing the list down to the latest "Dramatic Cantata" (it oughtn't to have been so described, as there was dialogue in it), the music of which will always hold a first place among the compositions of the Musical Baron's friend claiming to be the gifted descendant of the Wise and Musical King SOLOMON.

Altogether a vote of thanks should be presented to Mr. PERCY FITZGERALD for his entertaining, instructive, and most readable book on the immortal Pickwick, says

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

TELEPHONIC COMMUNICATION.

Husband (off to Paris). "DON'T CRY, DARLING. IT'S TOO SAD TO LEAVE YOU, I KNOW! BUT YOU CAN TALK TO ME THERE JUST AS IF WE WERE TOGETHER—ONLY BE CAREFUL, AS IT'S EXPENSIVE!"

Wife. "IS IT, DARLING? HA-HA-HADN'T YOU BETTER LEAVE ME A FEW BLANK CHEQUES?"

TALKING BY TIME.

The growing pressure of the business having already obliged the Belgium Postal Authorities to cut down the time allowed for a telephonic communication between Paris and Brussels, from five minutes to three, it is to be presumed that the rush of public patronage that may be expected when the wire is opened between London and the French Capital, will soon necessitate the substitution, in place of the promised ten minutes, of an allowance to each speaker of a minute, or at most a minute and a half for his interview, which it may confidently be expected will not unfrequently take the following shape:—

Inexorable Official. Now, Sir; your turn next.

[Shuts intending London Talker in, and switches him "on."

London Talker. Dear me! How quick they are, one hardly knows what one is about. I wonder how loud, now, one ought to speak. Better shout. Anyhow, I'll try that first. (At the top of his voice through the tube.) Hullo! Hi! I say. Are you there?

Paris Listener (replying). Oh! don't bawl like that. Of course I'm here, I've been waiting quite half a minute; thought you were never going to begin. But I suppose it is JONES I am speaking to?

London Talker. Oh yes, I'm JONES. It's all right. But can't you recognise my voice?