novel, which bears the fascinating title of The Bad Egg. Portions of this, it is to be hoped, will be recited at the banquet by the author's brother-in-law, Mr. Ossip Bobolinsky, Managing Director of the Anglo-Manchurian Steam Tar Company.

In smart intellectual circles Tagore Teas are now all the rage. At these elegant and up-to-date entertainments China tea is absolutely proscribed, the refreshments, solid and liquid, being exclusively of Indian origin. After tea the guests cantillate passages from the prose and poetry of the Great Indian Master to the accompaniment of gongs (the Sanskrit tum-tum) and one-stringed Afghan jamboons, for the space of two or three hours, when their engagements permit. Sometimes the reading is varied by mystical dances of a slow and solemn character, but all laughter, levity and exuberance are sedulously discountenanced, the aim of all present being to attain an attitude of serene and complacent ecstasy which enables them to invest utterances of the most perfect ineptitude with a portentous and pontifical significance.

"The advent to the episcopal bench of Dr. Russell Wakefield—the only Anglican Bishop on record to wear a moustache with a clean-shaven chin—does not appear to have aroused so much comment as the appointment of Dr. Ryle to the See of Liverpool in 1884. It was then said that the new prelate was the first Anglican Bishop to wear a beard for over 200 years."—The Daily Chronicle.

Dr. Russell Wakefield, of course, has not worn his moustache for a quarter of that time.

From a Hong Kong tradesman's circular:—

"Eggs! Fresh Eggs! and Tasteful Eggs! For Sale.

These eggs are exceedingly pure and fresh, and can be proved by looking at or breaking them. The yelk when boiled—smell sweet, the white—glistened, relished, and favourable to health as well.

Try our taseeful eggs as their quality bears.

Come! Come! Come! and try to have some."