an eligible opportunity. Some excellent fishing can be had on the sly in the small hours of the morning by dodging the local Middle-man to whom it has been let. Capital rat-shooting over nearly an eighth of an acre of wild farm-yard buildings. Address, "Marquis." Spillover. Herts.

THE BEST PART OF HALF A PACK OF HOUNDS FOR SALE.—A Midland County Squire, who, through having come into a Suburban Omnibus business, is about to relinquish his position as a county gentleman, is anxious to find a purchaser for what is left of a Pack of Hounds, of which he has for several years been the acknowledged Master. The "remnant" consists of a Dachshund, a Setter, slightly blind of one eye, two Drawing-room Pugs, a Lurcher, and a French Poodle, who can tell fortunes with a pack of cards, jump through three papered hoops at a time, walk round the room on his fore legs, and take five o'clock tea with any assembled company. Any enthusiastic huntsman wishing "to ride to hounds" in the middle of August, could, with a little preliminary training, scarcely fail to find in the above all the elements that would provide him with a capital run, even at this comparatively early season of the sporting year. With a red herring tied on to the fox, they could be warranted not to miss the scent; and, failing their performances in the field, might be safely relied on as a striking feature in any provincial Circus. The advertiser would be glad to hear from a respectable and responsible sausage manufactory.—Apply, Master, Packholme, Kenilworth.

ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE POETS.

"A Cycle of Cathay."

Locksley Hall.

SOME MORE OFFICIAL JILLS.

(Whom Mr. Punch, with his characteristic sense of justice and fair-play, is proud to recognise as no less representative than his earlier types—although he could wish he had the pleasure of encountering them a little more frequently.)

Scene—A large Branch Post Office. The weather is oppressively warm, and the Public slightly irritable in consequence. Behind the counter are three Young Ladies, of distinctly engaging appearance, whom we will call Miss Goodchild, Miss Meekin, and Miss Mannerly, respectively. As the Curtain rises, Miss Goodchild is laboriously explaining to an old lady with defective hearing the relative advantages of a Postal and a Post Office Order.

The Old Lady. Just say it over again, so that a body can hear ye. You young Misses ought to be taught to speak out, 'stead o' mumbling the way you do. Why can't ye give me a Postal Order for five-and-fourpence, and a'done with it, eh?

Miss Goodchild (endeavouring to speak distinctly). A Post Office Order will be what you require. See, you just fill in that form, and then I'll make it out—it's quite simple.

Old Lady. Yes, I dessay, anything to save yourselves a little trouble! You're all alike, you Post-Office young women. As if I couldn't send five-and-fourpence to my boy down at Toadley in the 'Ole, without filling up a parcel o' nonsense!

Person behind (with a talent for grim irony of a heavy order). Can you inform me whether there are any arrangements for providing luncheon for the Public—because, as it appears I am to spend the entire day here——

Miss Goodchild (sweetly). I'm so very sorry to keep you waiting, Sir. As soon as ever I have attended to this lady!——

Old Lady. If you call it attending—which I don't myself. There's your form.

Miss Goodchild. Oh, but you haven't told me whom you want the order made out to!

Old Lady. I did—I told you it was my son. If you hadn't been woolgathering, you'd ha' heard me. I'm sure I speak plain enough!

Miss Goodchild (laughing good-humouredly). Oh, yes, you speak very plainly—but I want the name in full, please, to put in the instructions.

The Person with the Irony. When you have quite concluded your little conversation——

Miss Goodchild (as she fills in the order). Now, Sir, what can I do for you?

The Person with the Irony. Well, I should be glad to be informed what you mean by requiring me to take out a licence for a dog that died of distemper a fortnight after I had him—and I had a warranty with him too!

Miss Goodchild. Oh, but that isn't my department, you see. You must go——(gives him elaborate instructions as to the place he is to apply to.)

The Person. Ah, if you had had the common courtesy to tell me all that before, I should not have wasted my time like this!

[Exit in wrath.

A Feeble Lady (to Miss Meekin). Oh, I just thought as I was passing by—may I put my umbrella here—and these parcels? thank you. I daresay you can tell me. Does the Mail for New Heligoland touch at Port Sandune? They go every other Friday, don't they? or is it changed to alternate Tuesdays now? and will there be anyone on board who would look after a box of Japanese rats if I sent them?—they'll want feeding, or something I suppose.

[Miss Meekin disentangles these inquiries, and answers them categorically to the test of her knowledge, information and belief.

Feeble Lady (disappointed). Oh, I quite thought you would know all about it! Then you wouldn't send the rats, you think?

Miss Meekin. No, I don't think I should send the rats, without someone in charge.

Feeble Lady. Oh, well, but I call it very unsatisfactory—did I put my umbrella down in this corner, or not? Oh, (slightly annoyed) you have it ... there must be another parcel, do see if you haven't put it away by mistake! No? Then it will be all right about the rats?

[Exit vaguely.

A Conversational Man (to Miss Mannerly). Warm, isn't it?

Miss Mannerly. Very warm. What can I do for you?

Conv. Man. Wait a bit. Give a man time to get his breath ... phew! (In an injured tone.) Why, the mercury in this office of yours must be over eighty at least!

Miss Mannerly. I daresay ... you wanted——?

Conv. Man. Daresay! Haven't you got a thermometer—you can easily look for yourself!

Miss M. I'm afraid there isn't one. If you will tell me what you came for?

Conv. Man. Ah, you wouldn't be in such a hurry if I was a nice-looking young chap! You'd be ready enough to talk all day then—I know what you young ladies are like!

Miss M. Perhaps we are not all alike—and I really have no time to talk to anybody.

[Turns away and weighs a parcel for somebody else.

Conv. M. So that's the way you treat a civil remark, is it! I tell you what it is—you young women want taking down; a little showing up will do you good! Perhaps you haven't seen Punch lately? Well, you look out—I could give Punch some wrinkles if I liked! Ah, I thought that would make a change in you! What do I want? Well, 'pon my soul I forget what I came in for. I'll look in when you're in a better temper.

[Exit with the consciousness of having scored.

A