member of the aristocracy in connection with a certain high office lately vacated. It is felt that a gentleman with the varied experience and capacity indicated by the circumstance (to which we may allude as not involving breach of confidence), that his name was successively mentioned in connection with the offices, recently vacant, of Postmaster-General, Undersecretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and Leader of the House of Commons, is peculiarly well qualified for the post.

The PRIME MINISTER has, we learn, been much gratified by the receipt of a letter volunteered by one of his colleagues, expressing generous satisfaction at his selection of Mr. ARTHUR BALFOUR to the Leadership of the House of Commons. It was the more pleasing as the name of Lord SALISBURY's correspondent had, in Conservative circles, been prominently mentioned in connection with the office. "It is true," the Abounding Baron wrote, "that the public with unerring instinct has looked in another direction. I should therefore like to be the first to say that your Lordship has done well in recognising the services to the Unionist cause performed by Mr. BALFOUR. Of course there may be other openings, and in case your Lordship has occasion to communicate with me, it may be convenient to mention that, having come to town this morning and transacted business at my office in Bouverie Street, I am about to return to my country residence at Stow-in-the-Wold."

It is announced that Lord SALISBURY's new house at Beaulieu is to be let furnished for the winter months, the PREMIER not intending to return till the Spring. We understand that one of Mr. GLADSTONE's friends and admirers is in treaty for the residence, intending to place it for a few weeks at the disposal of the Leader of the Opposition. We have not yet heard how far this happily-conceived scheme has progressed.

THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.

No. XVIII.

SCENE—The roof of Milan Cathedral; the innumerable statues and fretted pinnacles show in dazzling relief against the intense blue sky. Through the open-work of the parapet is seen the vast Piazza, with its yellow toy tram-cars, and the small crawling figures which cast inordinately long shadows. All around is a maze of pale brown roofs, and beyond, the green plain blending on the horizon with dove-coloured clouds in a quivering violet haze. CULCHARD is sitting by a small doorway at the foot of a flight of steps leading to the Spire.

"She passes on with her chin in the air!"

Culchard (meditating). I think MAUD must have seen from the tone in which I said I preferred to remain below, that I object to that cousin of hers perpetually coming about with us as he does. She's far too indulgent to him—a posing, affected prig, always talking about the wonderful things he's going to write! He had the impudence to tell me I didn't know the most elementary laws of the sonnet this morning! Withering repartee seems to have no effect whatever on him, I wish I had some of PODBURY's faculty for flippant chaff! I wonder if he and the PRENDERGASTS really are at Milan. I certainly thought I recognised ——. If they are, it's very bad taste of them, after the pointed way in which they left Bellagio. I only hope we shan't—

[Here the figure of Miss PRENDERGAST suddenly emerges from the door; CULCHARD rises and stands aside to let her pass; she returns his salutation distantly, and passes on with her chin in the air; her brother follows, with a side-jerk of recognition. PODBURY comes last, and halts undecidedly.

Podb. (with a rather awkward laugh). Here we are again, eh? (Looks after Miss P., hesitates, and finally sits down by CULCHARD.) Where's the fascinating Miss TROTTER? How do you come to be off duty like this?

Culch. (stiffly). The fascinating Miss TROTTER is up above with VAN BOODELER, so my services are not required.

Podb. Up above? And HYPATIA just gone up with BOB! Whew, there'll be ructions presently! Well out of it, you and I! So it's BOODELER's turn now? That's rough on you—after HYPATIA had whistled poor old BOB off. As much out in the cold as ever, eh?

Culch. I am nothing of the kind. I find him distasteful to me, and avoid him as much as I can, that's all. I wish, PODBURY, er—I almost wish you could have stayed with me, instead of allowing the PRENDERGASTS to carry you off as you did. You would have kept VAN BOODELER in order.

Podb. Much obliged, old chap; but I'm otherwise engaged. Being kept in order myself. Oh, I like it, you know. She's developing my mind like winking. Spent the whole morning at the Brera, mugging up these old Italian Johnnies. They really are clinkers, you know. RAPHAEL, eh?—and GIOTTO, and MANTEGNA, and all that lot. As HYPATIA says, for intensity of—er religious feeling, and—and subtlety of symbolism, and—and so on, they simply take the cake—romp in, and the rest nowhere! I'm getting quite the connoisseur, I can tell you!

Culch. Evidently. I suppose there's no chance of a—a reconciliation up there? [With some alarm.

Podb. Don't you be afraid. When HYPATIA once gets her quills up, they don't subside so easily! Hallo! isn't this old TROTTER?

[That gentleman appears in the doorway.

Mr. T. Why, Mr. PODBURY, so you've come along here? That's right! And how do you like Milan? I like the place first-rate—it's a live city, Sir. And I like this old cathedral, too; it's well constructed—they've laid out money on it. I call it real ornamental, all these little figgers they've stuck around—and not two of 'em a pair either. Now, they might have had 'em all alike, and no one any the wiser up so high as this; but it certainly gives it more variety, too, having them different. Well, I'm going up as high as ever I can go. You two better come along up with me.

On the Top.

Miss P. (as she perceives Miss T. and her companion). Now, BOB, pray remember all I've told you! [BOB turns away, petulantly.

Miss T. (aside, to VAN B.). I guess the air's got cooler up here, CHARLEY. But if that girl imagines she's going to freeze me! (Advancing to Miss P.) Why, my dear, it's almost too sweet for anything, meeting you again!

Miss P. You're extremely kind, MAUD; I wish I could return the compliment; but really, after what took place at Bellagio, I—

Miss T. (taking her arm). Well, I'll own up to being pretty horrid—and so were you; but there don't seem any sense in our meeting up here like a couple of strange cats on tiles. I won't fly out anymore, there! I'm just dying for a reconciliation; and so is Mr. VAN BOODELER. The trouble I've had to console that man! He never met anybody before haff so interested in the great Amurrcan Novel. And he's wearying for another talk. So you'd better give that hatchet a handsome funeral, and come along and take pity on him.

[HYP., after a struggle, yields, half-reluctantly, and allows herself to be taken across to Mr. VAN B., who greets her effusively. Miss T. leaves them together.

Bob P. (who has been prudently keeping in the background till now, decides that his chance has come). How do you do. Miss TROTTER? It's awfully jolly to meet you again like this!

Miss.