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I've seen them plain or coloured in fifty different styles,

Just like a pair of turtle-doves, all bills and coos and smiles.

I never saw a turtle-dove that smiled upon its pet afore,

But he who writes of bridal pairs is bound to use the metaphor.

Lines in Pleasant Places.—Sala's Journal, full of interesting and entertaining matter, has lately been giving very sensible advice as to Palmistry, which is again in vogue. The Palmists appear to be doing so uncommonly well just now, that this year will be memorable, for them at least, as "the Palmy days" of chiromancy.

ENGLISH AS SHE IS "SCHPOGEN."

Herr Dumpling (a "Deacher of Englisch" who has made the most of his holiday during the Royal Marriage week). "Zertainly, I haf zeen ze Vedding-brozess, ze Gween, and ze gliddering Goaches, and ze Naidive Droobs; and in ze Evening neffer haf I zeen so peudiful Gas-works! Bot, ach Himmel, how vas I ofergrowded!"

SEEING THE ROYAL WEDDING PRESENTS.

(A Sketch at the Imperial Institute.)

Scene—The North Gallery on a Saturday afternoon, with the thermometer at considerably over 80° in the shade. The presents are arranged behind a long barrier, in front of which the Spectators form a double "queue," the outer rank facing in the opposite direction to the inner line, and both moving at an average rate of one foot every five minutes.

The Attendants (spasmodically). Pass along there, please. Keep moving!

[The crowd close to the barrier either cannot or will not pay the slightest attention to these injunctions, and remain placidly gazing at whatever happens to be in front of them; the people in the outside line, who can see just enough to tantalise them, begin to exhibit signs of impatience.

A Sour-looking Spinster. Well, I'm sure! They might remember there's others that would like to have a look besides themselves! Some of them seem to have made up their minds to spend the whole day here! (With a withering glance at a stout lady in the inner rank.) How anyone can call herself a lady and spend fifteen minutes downright gloating at nothing but cigarette cases—well, I should be sorry to be so disobliging myself!

[The stout lady, who has exhausted the cigarette cases long ago, but can't move on until those in front of her have thoroughly inspected the jewels, fans herself with a pocket-handkerchief, and pretends not to have heard.

A Cheery Old Lady (to her Grand-daughter). Well, they do make you wait, there's no denying—but we shall see everythink some time or other. 'Ot, Minnie? Yes, it is 'ot, and they're pushing in front as well as beyind, now; but lor, my dear, we must put up with sech things when we come out like this. And you can ketch a glimpse in and between like, as it is. I can see the top of a Grandfather's Clock. It won't take us 'alf an hour now, at the rate we're going, to git round the turn, and then we shall be next the barrier, and 'ave a little more room. There, they're beginning to move a bit. (The line advances about a yard.) Now we're getting along beautiful!

A Purple-faced Old Gentleman (in a perspiration). It's scandalous! These people inside aren't attempting to move along. (To the inner rank.) Will you kindly pass on, and give others a chance? Do pass along there! (The people in the inner row maintain a bland unconsciousness, which is too much for his feelings.) D—n it! why can't you pass along when you're asked to?

The Usual Comic Cockney. It's no good torkin' perlitely to 'em, guv'nor; you touch some on 'em up with your umberella. Why, there's two old ladies aside o' me that 'ave gone and 'ipnotised theirselves starin' at silver kendlesticks!

A Plaintive Female (to a smart young constable). Oh, Mr. Policeman, do make 'em 'urry up there!

[The constable prudently declines to attempt the impossible, and merely smiles with pitying superiority.

Mrs. Lavender Salt (who has insisted on her husband escorting her). Lavender, what a frightful crush! I don't believe we've moved for the last twenty minutes, and I'm nearly dead with the heat!

Mr. L. S. (with irritating common sense). Well, Mimosa, you don't suppose I'm enjoying myself? After all, if you don't like the crush, the remedy's simple. You've only to step out of it into the grounds, you know—there is some air there!

Mrs. L. S. What? and give up our places after going through so much? No, Lavender, it would be too absurd to have to go away without seeing the Royal Presents after all!

Mr. L. S. But is it worth all this pushing and squeezing? Why, you can see much the same sort of thing any day in perfect comfort by simply walking down Bond Street!

Mrs. L. S. You wouldn't say so if you had the least scrap of imagination! It isn't the things themselves one comes to see—it's the sentiment attached to them!

Mr. L. S. Oh, is that it? Well, I can make out the upper part of a weighing machine over your shoulder, but I can't say I discover any particular sentiment attached to that.

Mrs. L. S. (impatiently). Oh, if you choose to sneer at everything, of course you can, but it's looking at things like these that makes us the loyal nation we are, Lavender!

Mr. L. S. My dear Mimosa, I give you my solemn word that if I remain opposite those Chippendale bookcases ten minutes longer I shall become a gibbering anarchist! Surely we can be loyal without such a painful resemblance to a box of dried figs.

[Mrs. L. S. shudders at these revolutionary sentiments.

A New Comer (arriving with a friend, and craning curiously over the shoulders of the spectators in posse, to their intense indignation). 'Ere they are, Joe. I can see a lot o' silver inkstands. We'll get a view if we shove in 'ere.

[He attempts to edge through the double rank.

The Purple-faced Old Gentleman. I