vacant chair.) More comfortable sitting down. I must get that back before I go. I've got about twenty francs 'left, I'll put five on yellow, and ten on 9. (He does. Croupier. "Deux, pair, et rouge!") Only five left! I'll back yellow again, as red won last. (He does. Croupier. "Quatre, pair, et rouge!" He turns to Miss D. for sympathy.) I say, did you ever see such beastly bad—? A Frenchman (behind him). Plaît-il? Mr. C. (confused). Oh, rien. I wasn't speaking to you, M'soo. (To himself.) Where on earth has that girl got to? She might have waited! She's gone back to the balcony! (He goes out in pursuit of her.) Oh, I say, Miss—er—DAINTREE, if you're ready for that "Pas de Quatre," I am. Hope I haven't kept you waiting.

Miss D. (sweetly). Not' in the very least. Are you sure you've quite finished playing?

Mr. C. As I 'ye lost all I'd won and a lot on the top of that, I should rather think I had finished playing.

Miss D. So has the Orchestra—quite a coincidence, isn't it? You were so absorbed, you see!—No, I won't keep you out here, thanks; my sister will take care of me.

Mr. C. (to himself, as he departs rather sheepishly). I've offended that girl—I could see she was wild at missing that Barn Dance. I wish I had danced it, I'm sure,—it would have saved me several francs. It was all her own fault. However, I'll ask her for a waltz another evening, and make it up to her that way. Confound those Petits Chevaux!

Miss D. AMY, he's gone,—and I haven't danced and I haven't sat out with him—and he can't' say it's my fault either! (She kisses her hand to the Petits Chevaux inside.) Thanks, ever so much, you dear little beasts!

Mrs. Gusher. "OH, GOOD-BYE, SIR JOHN. SO SORRY NOT TO HAVE FOUND YOUR MOST CHARMING WIFE AT HOME."

Sir John. "THANKS—THANKS! BY THE WAY, LET ME ASSURE YOU I'VE ONLY GOT ONE,—AND—"

[Thinks that the remainder of the sentence is "better understood than expressed."]

"A ROYAL LINE" (IN THE BILLS).—The successor to King Henry the Eighth (at the Lyceum) will be King Lear the First. "Le Roi est mort! Vive le Roi!"

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Baron pauses in the midst of his varied literary and philosophic studies to look into No. 46, Vol. iv., Part ii., of Our Celebrities, a publication which has been admirably conducted by the late and the present Count ASTRORÓG, which is the title, when he is at home, of the eminent photographer and proprietor of the Walery-Gallery. First comes life-like portrait of the stern Sir EDWARD W. WATKIN, on whose brow Time, apparently, writes no wrinkles, though Sir EDWARD could put most of us up to a few. Nor, strange to say, are there any lines on his countenance, probably because he has so many other lines, existing and contemplated, in his eye.

But 'tis not alone thy inky cloak, good Sir EDWARD, that attracts the Baron, nor is it the business-like profile of THOMAS DE GREY, sixth Lord Walsingham, Chairman of the Ensilage Committee, that gives the Baron matter for special admiration; but it is the perfectly charming portrait of "'DAISY PLESS' H.S.H. the Princess HENRY OF PLESS," which rivets the Baron's attention, and causes him to exclaim, "She is pretty, Pless her!" Miss CORNWALLIS WEST, but now a DAISY, now a Princess, came up as a flower at Ruthin Castle, and "in 1891 Prince HENRY OF PLESS," says the brief narrative written by A. BULL (an example of "a bull and no mistake") "wooed and won the beauty of the Season,"—lucky 'ARRY PLESS!—and then Prince 'ARRY took his bride to Furstenstein, in Silesia, "a fine schloss, with beautiful gardens and terraces,"—in short, "a Pleasaunce." Count ASTRORÓG may do, as he has done, many excellent photographic portraits, but this one will be uncommonly "hard to beat," and King of Photographers as he seems to be, it is not every day that he has so charming a subject as Princess DAISY presented to him. Receive, Count ASTRORÓG-WALERY, of the Walery-Gallery, without any raillery, the congratulations most sincere of the

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

"The Players