herzelf mit baper round zigars,

And like an eel his bagbone squirmed, his hair god up erect,

For beoples in tobaggo-jars is tings you ton't exbect!

"Bervidious von!" she shpeak at him, zo broud as any queen,

"Pehold your homage-objects vonce—ze goddess Nigodeen!

I galls to know ze reason vy you leafs my aldars cold,

And nefer purns me incense like your bractice vas of old?"

"To bay you more resbects, I must," he plurted out, "degline,

For I'm vorshibing at bresent mit an obbosition shrine."

"And zo you makes yourzelf," she gries, "a dankless renegade

To von who, oftendimes invoked, yet nefer vailed her aid

To charm avay your lonely dimes, and soffogate your care!

If dat's your leedle games, mein vriend, dake my advice—bevare!"

"I'd gladly zend mein zoul inzide a himmeldinted gloud,

Bot as a Penedick," he zaid, "I vill not pe allowed!

I dells you vrank"—(I haf exblained he vas a vonny vellow!)—

"Mitout mein bipe, ze honnymoon shall nod daste quide so mellow!"

"Enoff!" she said, "you vatch your eye, and zee vat vill bekom!"

She bopped inzide ... he search ze jar—'twas embdy as a drom!

And zen he vipe his sbecdagles, and shtare, and rob his head,

(Business.) And dink he'd grown too vanziful, and pedder go to bed.

THE TRAVELLER'S VADE MECUM.

Question. I understand that you are leaving Town. Why?

Answer. Because it is the fashion.

Q. Have you any plans?

A. I am a little undecided. At first I thought of going to an English watering-place, but abandoned the idea because the papers said I should be sure to be laid up with typhoid fever, German measles, or something equally pleasant.

Q. Had it not been for this dread, should you have gone?

A. I suppose so. We are acclimatised to the discomforts of seaside lodgings, the discords of second-rate German bands, and the disillusions of country views.

Q. For the sake of argument, abandoning the English watering-place—where shall you go?

A. My wife says Paris—and means it.

Q. Do you object yourself to the gay capital?

A. Well—just now—yes; chiefly because it is not gay.

Q. I suppose you would prefer the principal theatres to be open?

A. If I could attend them without being sure that I should find the "hot room" of a Turkish bath considerably cooler. Not that there would not be a risk of being grilled to death on the Boulevards and bored out of my life by running across hundreds of personally-conducted tourists.

Q. Then why should you go?

A. Because my wife wishes to see the bonnets.

Q. Could she see them nowhere else?

A. Not to her satisfaction, although I believe she could find their counterparts in Tottenham Court Road and the Westbourne Grove.

Q. After Paris where shall you go?

A. Either to Switzerland, Italy, or Holland.

Q. Do you expect much amusement?

A. Not much, because I know them by heart. Still I know the best hotels, or rather the best table d'hôtes.

Q. Is that all you care for?

A. Nearly all. However it is a languid satisfaction to compare St. Peter's with St. Paul's to the disadvantage of the former, and to think there is nothing in Switzerland to equal the Trossachs, Loch Maree and the Cumberland Lakes.

Q. But the Art treasures?

A. May be found en bloc at the South Kensington Museum.

Q. Then you travel in rather a gloomy mood.

A. Rather. Still I am buoyed up with a delightful prospect in the future.

Q. A delightful prospect! What prospect?

A. The prospect of returning home!

Scarcely "Butter."—To change the nickname of Madge to Margarine.

LADIES' LAW.

Some little while since a book was published for the exclusive benefit of the fair sex, which purported to teach men's mothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts, the advantages bestowed upon them by the Married Women's Property Act, and other statutes of a like character. No doubt the volume was an excellent guide to females fond of litigation; but still there are many who prefer, in spite of everything, to retain their own fixed opinion on the subject of law. For that feminine majority the following congenial hints are published:—

If a woman makes a will, she can never revoke it, and is likely to die soon afterwards, as it is not only unnecessary, but unlucky.

A marriage without bridesmaids is nearly illegal. This applies, in a lesser degree, to marriages where children, dressed in Charles the First costumes, are not employed to hold up the bride's train.

A mortgage is a sort of thing that causes a house to become the possession of a dishonest Agent, who is usually a Solicitor.

The best way of settling a County Court summons, brought in the absence of the master of the house, is to ask the man into the dining-room, and tell him about the accomplishments of the children. This will soften his heart, and get him to prevent the Judge from sending everyone to prison.

A nice Solicitor never contradicts a Lady, and therefore knows the law infinitely better than the disagreeable fogies, who are so obstinate. And, lastly, the best way to learn the real provisions of the law, is to study a modern novel by a lady Authoress.

SALUBRITIES ABROAD.

"Salubrities at Home" (pace Mr. Atlas, who will recognise this temporary adaptation of his world-renowned title) I should say are Buxton (for most people), Bath (for some), Harrogate (for others), and,—besides a variety of North, South, East and West, too numerous to be mentioned in these notes,—Ramsgate for nearly all.

"Salubrities Abroad" are Homburg, Aix-les-Bains, Carlsbad, &c., &c., and Royat, where I find myself again this year. "Scenes of my bath-hood, once more I behold ye!" There is "A Salubrity at Royat," which people of certain tendencies cannot easily find elsewhere. It is a cure for eminent persons of strong Conservative