next Saturday."

Second Old Lady. MADELINE's frame! Is anything wrong with the poor girl's spine?

First Old Lady. I never heard of it. Oh, I see, it's fiancé, my dear. CAROLINE does write so illegibly. (Continuing.) "Um—um,—suppose you know she will be maimed—" (perhaps it is her spine after all—oh, married, to be sure), "very slowly" (is it slowly or shortly, I wonder?), um—um, "very quiet wedding, nobody but dear Mr. WILKINSON and his hatter."

Second O.L. The idea of choosing one's hatter for one's best man! I'm surprised MARIA should allow it!

First O.L. Maria always was peculiar—still, now I come to look, it's more like "brother," which is certainly much more suitable. (Continuing.) "She will have no—no bird's-marks ..." (Now, what does that—should you think that meant "crows-feet"? Oh, no, how stupid of me—bridesmaids, of course!)—"and will go to the otter a plain guy"—(Oh, Caroline really is too....)—"to the altar in plain grey! She has been given such quantities of pea-nuts"—(very odd things to give a girl! Oh, presents! um, um)—"Not settled yet where to go for their hangman"—(the officiating clergyman, I suppose—very flippant way of putting it, I must say! It's meant for honeymoon, though, I see, to be sure!) &c., &c.

Culch. I should like to be at Nuremberg with you. It would be an unspeakable delight to watch the expansion of a fresh young soul in that rich mediæval atmosphere!

Miss T. I guess you'll have opportunities of watching Mr. PODBURY's fresh young soul under those conditions, any way.

Culch. It would not be at all the same thing—even if he—but you do think you're coming to Nuremberg, don't you?

Miss T. Well, it's this way. Poppa don't want to get fooling around any more one-horse towns than he can help, and he's got to be fixed up with the idea that Nuremberg is a prominent European sight before he drops everything to get there.

Culch. I will undertake to interest him in Nuremberg. Fortunately, we are all getting off at Bingen, and going, curiously enough, to the same hotel. (To himself.) Confound that fellow PODBURY, here he is again!

Podb. (to himself, as he advances). If she's carrying on with that fellow, CULCHARD, to provoke me, I'll soon show her how little I—(Aloud.) I say, old man, hope I'm not interrupting you, but I just want to speak to you for a minute, if Miss TROTTER will excuse us. Is there any particular point in going as far as Bingen to-night, eh?

Culch. (resignedly). As much as there is in not going farther than somewhere else, I should have thought.

Podb. Well, but look here—why not stop at Bacharach, and see what sort of a place it is?

Culch. You forget that our time is limited if we're going to stick to our original route.

Podb. Yes, of course; mustn't waste any on the Rhine. Suppose we push on to Maintz to-night, and get the Rhine off our hands then? (With a glance at Miss TROTTER.) The sooner I've done with this steamer business the better!

Miss T. Well, Mr. PODBURY, that's not a vurry complimentary remark to make before me!

Podb. We've seen so little of one another lately that it can hardly make much difference—to either of us—can it?

Miss T. Now I call that real kind, you're consoling me in advance!

The Steward (coming up). De dickets dat I haf nod yed seen! (examining CULCHARD's coupons). For Bingen—so?

Culch. I am. This gentleman gets off—is it Bacharach or Maintz, PODBURY?

Podb. (sulkily). Neither, as it happens. I'm for Bingen, too, as you won't go anywhere else. Though you did say when we started, that the advantage of travelling like this was that we could go on or stop just as the fancy took us!

Culch. (calmly). I did, my dear PODBURY. But it never occurred to me that the fancy would take you to get tired of a place before you got there!

Podb. (as he walks forwards). Hang that fellow! I know I shall punch his head some day. And She didn't seem to care whether I stayed or not. (Hopefully.) But you never can tell with women!

[He returns to his camp-stool and the letter-reading Old Ladies.

A SONG IN SEASON.

ROBERT'S FUTURE.

My kind Amerrycain aquaintance—I musn't call him frend tho' he is so werry free and social with me, for I hopes I knos my propper place—has giwen me a long acount of his week at Brighton. It seems as he was in grate luck, for it was Brighton Race Week, and he is good enuff to say that, whatever diffrent opinyons the men of other countries may find in regard to the warious customs and manners of our grate but rayther rum nashun, they all agrees, with one acord, that a English race-course is the prettyest and nicest thing of the sort that the hole world can show. I rayther thinks as he dropt his money there, but it couldn't have bin werry much, for it didn't have the least effeck on his good temper. It seems as he got interdooced to some sillybrated pusson who rites in papers and seemed to kno everythink, but wot he wanted to kno was if I coud tell him what caused his werry bad indijeshun, to which I at once replied, without a moment's hesitashun, that it was probberbly owing to his being, wich he told me he was, a sort of relashun of a real Common Councilman of the Grand old Citty of London! at which he larfed quite hartily and said, "Bravo, Mr. ROBERT, that's one to you!"

He arterwards arsked me for the werry best place to go to, where he coud have jest about a few hours quiet refleckshun all to hisself without not nothink to disturb him; so I sent him to Marlow, gentlemanly Marlow, if you please, with a letter to my old friend BILL the Fisherman, and there, he told me arterwards, he had sich a luvly day of it as he never rememberd having afore. He sat for fours ours in a luvly Punt, in a bewtifool drizzlin rain, with lots of fish a biting away, but he was much too much engaged to pay the least atenshun to 'em, and there wasn't not noboddy to bother him;