you get the best view of our Wild Duck. We are very proud of her, because she gives the play its title, you know, and has to be brought into the dialogue a good deal. Your father, peppered her out shooting, and we saved her life.

Hialmar. Yes, GREGERS, our estate is not large—but still we preserve, you see. And my poor old father and I sometimes get a day's gunning in the garret. He shoots with a pistol, which my illiterate wife here will call a "pigstol." He once, when he got into trouble, pointed it at himself. But the descendant of two lieutenant-colonels who had never quailed before living rabbit yet, faltered then. He didn't shoot. Then I put it to my own head. But at the decisive moment, I won the victory over myself. I remained in life. Now we only shoot rabbits and fowls with it. After all I am very happy and contented as I am. [He eats some bread and butter.

Gregers. But you ought not to be. You have a good deal of the Wild Duck about you. So have your wife and daughter. You are living in marsh vapours. To-morrow I will take you out for a walk and explain what I mean. It is my mission in life. Good night! [He goes out.

Gina and Hedwig. What was the gentleman talking about, Father?

Hialmar (eating bread and butter). He has been dining, you know. No matter—what we have to do now, is to put my disreputable old whitehaired pariah of a parent to bed.

[He and GINA lift old ECCLES—we mean old EKDAL—up by the legs and arms, and take him off to led as the Curtain falls.

COCKNEY MOTTO FOR A FEEBLE CRICKETER.—"Take 'Art of GRACE!"

PROPOSED HERALDIC DEVICE FOR THE LONDON COUNTY COUNCIL.

(See opposite page.)

KEY TO THE PROPOSED HERALDIC DEVICE.

Arms.—Quarterly: 1. A female figure habited in white robes reaching to the ankles, with Arms elevated, all quite proper, for Grace. 2. A wildman or ratepayer rampant, for Thrift. 3. A bend (or bar) sinister on a chart vert, for Bloomsbury. 4. Three demi-councillors, wings elevated, regardant an empty seat, for Vacancy.

Crest.—On a beadle's hat erased, a new broom.

Supporters.—Dexter, a Paul Pry regardant, grasping an eyeglass sinister. Sinister, a Stiggins. Both gorged.

Motto.—"Ubi nunc sumus?"

FAMILIARITY BREEDS RESPECT.

(A page from the Diary of a would-be but couldn't-be Duellist.)

Monday.—Arrived on the ground ready to fight my opponent to the death. We had just measured the ground, when an agent of Police appeared upon the scene, and we had to decamp hurriedly. Duel postponed till to-morrow.

Tuesday.—New spot chosen. Pistols this time instead of rapiers. Just as we were about to fire, appearance of the agents of the law. Postponement again absolutely necessary.

Wednesday.—Once more ready to meet. Both of us rather amused at the precautions we have to take to prevent interruption. Opponent obligingly suggested a new and suitable spot for the settlement of our little differences. Found it to be a most excellent selection, but before we could fight, once more interrupted. Both of us greatly annoyed, and arranged to meet to-morrow.

Thursday.—Amused to find myself first in the field—my opponent five minutes late. Both of us had come before the seconds, and so spent the time in a pleasant little chat, and cigarettes. My opponent not half a bad fellow when you come to know him. Just as he was in the middle of a most amusing story, our seconds arrived—with the Police! Postponement once more imperative.

Friday.—Opponent turned up first, and, at my request, completed his yesterday's story—one of the best I have ever heard. Most amusing chap—should have liked to have heard another, when, finding ourselves uninterrupted, we thought we had better seize the opportunity to settle our affair of honour. Our customary luck! Seemingly had just time to kill one another, when enter the Police! Programme as before.

Saturday.—Met again. Really quite pleased to have made the acquaintance of such a nice fellow as my opponent. Full of fun and anecdote. On comparing notes, we found that we had entirely forgotten what on earth we had quarrelled about. So shook hands and arranged that if we fired at anyone, our target should be the Police.

A PLEA FOR THE CART-HORSE PARADE SOCIETY.

HISTORY AND ART.—Doubts have been thrown on the genuineness of the story about St. ELIZABETH of Hungary as illustrated by Mr. CALDERON's well-known and striking picture in this year's Academy. Mr. CALDERON affirms, according to the best of his high lights, that he has simply portrayed the naked truth. So far, in a certain sense, the Court is with him. Still, historians are neither unbiassed nor infallible, and painters are inclined to sacrifice much for effect. For our part, we should be inclined to refer the situation, which this picture illustrates, to some incident in the life of the celebrated Miss ELIZABETH MARTIN, generally known as "BETTY MARTIN." The legend may be found in some work by that voluminous writer Finis, or by the oft-quoted Ibid, under the quaint heading, Historia Mei et Beati Martini.

THE PICK OF THE PICTURES. (AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY.)

No. 164. Pilling Him. Affectionate wife insisting on the invalid taking a Bolus. Sidney Paget.

No. 259. "A Select Committee." H. Stacy Marks, R.A.

No. 278. "The Fleecy Charge." A title that suggests an attempt at extortion, but is here applied to A picture in wool-work by the veteran, T. SYDNEY COOPER, R.A. Of course whatever the artist may ask for it, it will always be "sheep at the price."

No. 388. "Writing a Message to St. Helena." Hope St. Helena received it. Probably forwarded by a winged messenger as suggested