soldiers have been known before this to pitch and strike a tent. Still, it was deeply gratifying to find history repeating itself, inasmuch, as in the Victorian evolutions there was no difficulty in conjuring up the picture with the popular title, "The Grandson teaching the Grandmother—how to suck eggs!"

HOW LONG?

Extracts from a Tragic International Romance, written up to date.

The Government makes no sign or move, though people who think are clamouring and asking "How long shall such things be?"

They were only a few poor Polish Jews, there might have been a hundred of them all told, beaten, scourged, driven by a brutal and merciless Government to "move on," somewhere—anywhere,—it cared not, so long as they had no abiding home, no hope of peace, of comfort, or of even the common necessaries of existence, and stricken with despair and overcome with terror, they meet with their good angel.

The Middleman, the blessed agent, to them, of all good, tells them of the bright free land, where a golden harvest of profit is waiting them, if they will only realise their "all" and hand it over to him. With a shout of joy, in grateful pæans they sing the praises of their preserver,—and realising all their worldly wealth and making it over to him, they arrive, greedy, hunger-smitten and expectant, one damp May morning in Whitechapel.

They find a native population, struggling in terrible earnest with want, and taking, through the Sweater who commands the situation, starvation prices for the making of a coat, for the which, by working nineteen hours in the day, and reducing life to the slavery of a living death, they manage to earn two shillings and ninepence!

The happy and eager Polish Jews step in, and see their chance. Eldorado lies before them. They are asked if they will make the coat for two shillings and sevenpence. The poor starving foreigners eagerly clutch at any chance. Who can blame them? No one. It is a struggle for life. Fair but false promises have brought them to these shores, to swell the sum of misery, already, Heaven knows, high enough! But still they come, keeping up a steady flow of suffering, and the Government makes no sign or move, though people who think are loudly clamouring, and asking, "How long shall such things be?"

WHAT IT MAY COME TO IN LONDON.

(As the Point has been nearly reached in Paris.)

SCENE—A Hall devoted to MR. EDISON's latest inventions. A Lecturer acting as Showman to a crowd of possible Customers.

Lecturer. And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I must ask you quickly to make a selection. We have here wires from all parts of the world—make your selection. Those who wish to see the kinetograph at work will please go within. Operas with scenery always on hand. Here we have only telephones.

Mild Young Lady. Oh, if you please, a friend of mine was married three weeks ago, and she and her husband are staying at the Grand Hotel, Paris. Might I hear what they are saying. Here's their name.

Lect. (taking card). Nothing easier. (Speaking through telephone.) Put us on to Grand Hotel, Paris, Room 1564. (To Customer.) A shilling please, Madam. Thank you, and here you are.

Mild Y.L. (taking receivers). Oh, thank you. (She places them to her ears and then drops them hurriedly.) Oh dear me! She has kept him waiting, and he is using such bad language! You ought to have told me.

Lect. We can't guarantee language. Why, would you believe it, Madam, that sometimes we have complaints of things said in Norway! Pray Ladies and Gentlemen, make your selection. (To Intelligent-looking Stranger.) Can I tempt you. Sir? They are playing a new piece at Chicago. It is excellent, I am told—a domestic comedy. Next week, if it's successful, we shall produce it with scenery and effects on the kinetograph. Try it, Sir?

Intelligent Stranger. I don't mind if I do, (Raising receivers.) Call this a domestic comedy? Why I can hear firing!

Lect. Very strange, Sir. Nothing in the plot to account for it,

Intell. Stran. Stay, you say it's in Chicago! I know what the firing means! They don't like the piece, and they are shooting the Author!

Lect. Of course, Sir! (To Small Boy.) And now my little man, what do you want?

Small Boy. Please, Sir, I have got a shilling to spend in hearing something from somewhere all the world over.

Lect. (producing programme). Here is a list of our stations. You see we have wires laid on to all parts of Europe, Africa, Asia, and America. Next Tuesday we shall be in communication with Australia. And now, what will you have?

Small Boy. I don't know. Something exciting, please.

Lect. Well, you can hear, by taking these, a number of Astronomers discussing in Committee the transit of Venus. Or, if you listen to these, you will hear a chat about the floating of the next Russian loan, held in one of the centres of speculation, to wit, the Bourse at Vienna. Most interesting, I can assure you. Which will you have?

Small Boy. Oh, please, I don't care for astronomy, and am too young to understand finance.

Lect. Now, here's a Bull Fight—you can distinctly hear the shouts—and here's a Chinese execution.

Small Boy. Oh, that will be nice. Which shall I have?

Lect. Can't say—you pay your money, and you take your choice! And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am ready for your commands.

[Attends to other Customers as the Scene closes in. Curtain.

THE VERY WILDEST WEST.

["The idea of transporting the Coliseum at Rome to the shores of Lake Michigan has been broached in all seriousness. The American Syndicate who desire to make the Coliseum an attractive feature of the Chicago Exhibition, rely for success on the financial necessities of the Italian Government."—Daily Paper.]

(BY ATLANTIC CABLE.)

President H-rr-s-n to King H-mb-rt.

A Chicago Syndicate has asked me to mention that they want your Coliseum. What price do you ask? They would be glad of it for the World-Fair, which will be about the biggest thing ever seen on this planet. No trouble to you. We take all risks!

King H-mb-rt to President H-rr-s-n.

Cannot discuss Coliseum subject till you've settled New Orleans lynching business in conformity with International Law.

President H-rr-s-n to King H-mb-rt.

All right. Thought you'd say that. Chicago Syndicate willing to meet your views about New Orleans. Do you want leading members of Grand Jury shipped quietly over to Italy, or what? Syndicate will do anything to oblige. Says it must have Coliseum, especially by moonlight. Intends starting realistic scenes with Gladiators, Lions, and Christian Martyrs.

King H-mb-rt to President H-rr-s-n.

On reflection, afraid people here wouldn't like it. Sorry to have to decline your offer.