would have been good enough, but he says it's like our humour—too new! The children are bothering to know why there isn't a Christmas-tree.

Secretary. Tell them to go to the—Haymarket. The reward will be—swift. Might I suggest mistletoe? I should be very pleased to go under it with Madame Bovary, just to show the others how to——

Sir Lyon (stiffly). Much obliged, but I will not give you that trouble. If anyone goes under the mistletoe with Madame Bovary it will be myself. Remember that.

Secretary. Oh, certainly! I merely meant——How about crackers? I could set the thing going by pulling one with Miss Olivia. The old Vicar said just now, in his pointed, Gothic way, something about times having changed, and——

Sir Lyon. Yes, we'll have crackers, but you can leave me to pull the first one with Miss Olivia. It would look better. Perhaps we'd better let the Ghosts give their entertainment now—eh?

Secretary. I'll arrange it at once.

Scene III.—In the Hall, in which is a temporary theatre; all the Modern Celebrities are seated on rows of chairs, chattering, flirting, and discussing Insomnia and the New Criticism. Behind the scenes the Ghosts are disputing as to which shall recite first, the order of precedence depending entirely on the question as to which is the most completely defunct. Finally, Ernest Maltravers and Tom Jones go on together, and the Curtain goes up.

Ernest Maltravers (musingly, in a low yet ringing voice, in which Pride struggles with Emotion). Let us learn, from yon dinner-table, o'er which brooded the spirits of the Novelists of all time, to lift ourselves on the wings of Romanticism back to Bombastic and Primeval Prose. (Breaks off suddenly. Aside, to Tom Jones.) I cannot go on like this. We ought to have had a scenario.

Tom Jones (suppressing laughter, aside). Why, thou foolish scoundrel, is there not one in front? How else could be seated there so many fair ladies and gallant gentlemen?

Ernest Maltravers (aside). In the contemplation of your idiocy, I curb with difficulty the impulse that leads me to crush the life from your bosom. Know, Ignorant One, that a scenario is not the same thing as an auditorium.

[Tom Jones is about to attack him with fine old English violence, when the curtain suddenly falls. The entertainment is interrupted. The audience appear at once amused and shocked. Dorian takes out his little vinaigrette exquisitely set with turquoises, cymophanes, amethysts, and tourmalines, and offers it to the Subaltern, who, evidently unaware of its use, pockets it.

Subaltern. You got that out of a cracker, didn't you? I'll take it Home. For the kids.

[The entr'acte is growing so prolonged that the Secretary goes behind the scenes to know the cause of the delay. He finds all confusion. The party has been increased by the presence of Mr. Stead's Spook Julia, who, having half an hour to spare, has come to protest against the "indignity" as she calls it, of fine old crusted Ghosts being expected to perform to a lot of mere modern myths. She speaks with such eloquence that she persuades them, one and all, to leave without finishing their performance and entirely without ceremony. Nothing the Secretary can say has any effect, and they all vanish, leaving "not a wrack behind," except, a slate pencil Julia has dropped in her excitement.

Sir Lyon (after hearing the news). Shameful! Never again will I have a Ghost in this house. This is what comes of treating them as equals! I'll—I'll—I'll write to the Psychical Society!

[Scene closes as all the guests crowd round him and ask him to drink the health of Modern Fiction and—The New Year.

MAY AND DECEMBER.

[Brighton is now represented by two of the youngest members in the House.... Mr. Gladstone intends to spend Christmas at Brighton.]

A SEASONABLE VADE MECUM.

(By Ker Mudgeon, Senior.)

• Question. What is the most satisfactory motto for Christmas?
• Answer. That it "comes but once a year."
• Q. Then it is as well to take a gloomy view of the season?
• A. That is the only reasonable aspect in the face of a pile of "Christmas bills."
• Q. What are Christmas cards?
• A. Advertisements of existence sent to enemies as well as friends.
• Q. What is a plum pudding?
• A. Indigestion in the concrete.
• Q. And a mince pie?
• A. An excuse for a glass of brandy or a glass of any other equally potent liquid.
• Q. Does old-fashioned English Christmas fare benefit anyone?
• A. Yes; doctors and chemists.
• Q. Why does an elderly person go the pantomime?
• A. Because he likes it just as much as a schoolboy.
• Q. What reason does he give for his visits to Drury Lane, the Lyceum, or the Crystal Palace?
• A. That he visits those places of entertainment for the sake of the children.
• Q. But if he is an old bachelor?
• A. He declares that he likes to see the delight of other people's children.
• Q. What is the spécialité of a Christmas family party?
• A. Row all round.
• Q. What are the regulation wishes of Yule-tide?
• A. A Happy Christmas and a Prosperous New Year.
• Q. And the probable result?
• A. The attainment of neither.

Crossed in Love.—A wedding-present cheque.

FINAL ORDERS.

Keeper (to Boy out for his first day's driving). "Mind and Spread yerself out!"

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

"Sir," said a wisely deferential friend of the Baron's, approaching the Baronial arm-chair wherein sat His Super-Excellency regaling himself in truly Regal-Cole-ian fashion, "Sir, I present to your notice a book entitled In Search of a Climate." "With such a title," quoth the Baron, in