evidently "half seas over," being personally conducted through some by-streets of Portsmouth, on his way back to the Victory, in order to avoid the crowd. Rather a hard Roe, this.

No. 767. Congratulations to T. B. Kennington on his "Alderman George Doughty, J.P.," or, as the name might be from the characteristic colouring, Alderman Deorge Gouhty, which is quite in keeping with the proverbial aldermanic tradition.

A Little Mixed.—In its account of the private view at the Royal Academy the Daily News says:—"The Countess of Malmesbury studied the sculpture in a harmonious costume of striped black and pink, and a picture hat trimmed with pink roses." This is presumably the result of the influence of Mr. Horsley. But isn't it going a little too far, at least to begin with? A piece of sculpture—say, a Venus—in a harmonious costume of striped black and pink might pass. But the addition of a picture hat trimmed with pink roses is surely fatal.

A NASTY ONE.

Disgusted Sculptor. "So you've got the Line in Two Places, have you? Hang me if I don't give up Art, and go in for Painting!"

AT THE BANQUET, SATURDAY, MAY 4.

Chair of absent President ably filled by Sir John Millais, who, pluckily struggling against evidently painful hoarseness, made, in returning thanks, an exceptionally graceful, touching, and altogether memorable speech. Odd to note that, had Sir John, speaking hoarsely, broken down, we should have heard his remplaçant Horsley speaking. The incident, however, which will mark this banquet as unique in Academical records, was Sir John's mistaking one Archbishop for the other, and, in consequence, pleasantly indicating by a polite bow to the prelate on his left, that he called upon him, the Archbishop of York, to reply for the visitors. "York, you're wanted," said, in effect, the genial Sir John, utterly ignoring the presence of His Grace of Canterbury. Whereupon, Canterbury collapsed, while the Northern Primate, vainly attempting to dissemble his delight, professed his utter surprise, his total unpreparedness, and straightforth hastened to improve the occasion. But before fifty words had passed the jubilant Prelate's lips, Sir John, having discovered his mistake, rose quickly in his stirrups, so to speak, and pulled up the impetuous York just then getting into his stride. Genially beaming on the slighted Canterbury, Sir John called on "The Primate of All England" (a snub this for York) to return thanks. "One Archbishop very like another Archbishop," chuckled the unabashed Sir John to himself, as he resumed his seat, "but quite forgot that York as Chaplain to Academy is 'His Grace before dinner,' and Canterbury represents 'Grace after dinner.'" "'Twas ever thus," muttered York, moodily eyeing the last drop in his champagne-glass, as he mentally recalled ancient ecclesiastical quarrels between the two provinces, from which the Southern Prelate had issued victorious. Canterbury flattered, but, fluttered, lost his chance. His Royal Highness's speech brief, comprehensive, effective. Lord Rosebery entertaining. "The rest is silence," or better if it had been. No more at present. Good luck to the Academy Show of 1895.

COLD COMFORT!

Aunt Phillida. "The last time I went to a grown-up Fancy Ball, I went as a Wasp. That was only Ten Years ago. I don't suppose I shall ever again go to a Fancy Ball as a Wasp!"

[Sighs deeply.

Mary. "Hardly as a Wasp, Aunt Phillida. But you'd look very splendid as a Bumble-Bee!"

THE UP-TO-DATE DUCKLINGS.

(A Fable.)

A Duck that had lately succeeded in hatching a fine brood of ducklings, and was much concerned on the point of their polite education, took them down to the river one day in order to teach them to swim.

"See, my dears!" she said when they were all got to the bank, addressing her brood in encouraging accents, "this is the way to do it," and so saying the old duck pushed off from the land, in evident expectation that her young ones would follow her.

The Ducklings, however, instead of coming after their mother, remained on the bank, talking and laughing and whispering among themselves in a very knowing manner; until at last the old bird, provoked by their levity and wondering what ailed them, called out sharply to them from mid-stream to come into the water at once; upon which one of the Ducklings, who had evidently been constituted spokesman for the rest, made bold to address his mother in the following words.

"You must be a simpleton indeed, Madam," said he, "to imagine that we are going to do anything so foolish as to endanger our lives in the reckless fashion in which you are now exposing yours; for though it may be true that in obedience to some unwritten law of nature (unknown at present to us) you are floating securely upon the surface of the stream, instead of sinking to the bottom of it, yet it by no means follows from thence that we should do the same thing, supposing we were so foolish as to follow your example. Rest assured, dear Madam," continued the Duckling, "that so soon as we have sifted this matter to the bottom for ourselves, we shall act on the knowledge of it, according as our experience may suggest to us; but for the present, at any rate, we prefer to remain where we are."

And so saying, the Duckling, accompanied by the rest of the brood, turned his back on his natural element, and returned forthwith to the poultry-yard.

A PHILISTINE PÆAN;

Or, The Triumph of the Timid One.