everyone else. Before the end of dinner, he had spoken, very respectfully, but not unfavourably, of my eyes, and he is going to send me his book, Enchantment. He belongs to the new literary school they call "Sensitivists." I wonder what it means! Good-bye, dear.

Ever your loving Marjorie.

"Nullis Medicabilis Herbis," &c.—A youthful author suffering from a violent attack of the critics.

A POLITICAL CONFERENCE.

Scene—The interior of a classic Country Villa. Present—An aged, illustrious, but retired, Statesman and Leader, engaged now in thrumming a lyre. To him enter his youthful successor, with certain scrolls.

Senex (eagerly). My dear Primula! So glad you have come! The very man I wished to see. Be seated.

Juvenis (depositing scrolls). A thousand thanks. Delighted to see you looking so well, my dear Gladstonius.

Senex (cheerily). Never better, thank the gods!—and the ocularius!

[Twangles nimbly.

Juvenis. Ah! Cincinnatus, in retirement, pleased himself with the plough; your recreation was wont to be the axe or the banjo; now I perceive it is the—harp!

Senex (sharply). Not at all, Primula, not at all. This is not a harp!

[Plays and sings.

Juvenis (astounded). Charming, I'm sure!

Senex (beaming). Think so? I fear you flatter.

Juvenis. Not at all. You may say, with your new favourite—

Senex (modestly). Very pretty! But I fear the ever-youthful Muses may disdain an Old Man's belated wooing.

Juvenis (slily). Even a Grand Old Man's?

Senex (shuddering). Nay, no more of that, an' you love me. By the way, I wanted to consult you on a little musical matter.

Juvenis (dubiously). Ah! Concerning yon Hibernian Harp, I presume?

Senex (impatiently). Dear me, no! The Hibernian Harp be—jangled. As, indeed, it is, and unstrung into the bargain.

Juvenis (relieved). Why, have you then, like the other Minstrel Boy, "torn its chords asunder"?

Senex. Well, no, not that exactly. I fear its native thrummers will spare others that trouble. But—ahem!—it is the Horatian Lyre that interests me at present.

Juvenis. I see:—

Senex (musingly). Hum! I have not yet tried the Tibia—the shrill pipe—but I may.

Juvenis. Doubtless; and you are quite equal to it.

Senex (drily). Thanks! But I've no wish, my dear Primula, "to play the rôle of elderly Narcissus." At present my part is only that of Echo—to the Venusian's vibrant voice.

[Muses.

Juvenis (taking advantage of the opportunity). Well, my dear Gladstonius, there are one or two little matters upon which I want to take your opinion. For example, Cæcilius——

Senex (quickly). "Cæcilius, who provoked the populace to such a degree, that Cicero could hardly restrain them from doing him violence." Do you want me to play the part of Cicero?

Juvenis (taken aback). Well—ahem!—hardly that, perhaps. But——

Senex (interrupting him). My dear Primula, as I have already said in response to an appeal from a friend of the modern Orbilius (not like Horace's pedagogue, "Plagosus," though), "After a contentious life of fifty-two years, I am naturally anxious to spend the remainder of my days in freedom from controversy."

Juvenis. Oh! Quite so—of course. But ahem!—the people are a little pressing——

Senex. Eh? To hurtful measures? What says Augustus's "pleasant mannikin" again, à propos?

[Thrums.

Juvenis. Doubtless. One such as yourself, "retired from business," like your beloved Horace on his Sabine farm.

But of me it cannot—yet—be said—

Senex. Hah! Sir John Beaumont's version. Not so bad, but might be improved, I think. By the way, why should not you and I do the "Satires"—together?

Juvenis. Charmed, I am sure. Just now, however, I fear I'm a little too busy.

Senex. Pooh! Only occupies one's odd moments, and is as easy as shaving, or shaping a new Constitution. For example, I'll give you an impromptu version—call it adaptation if you like—of the first "Ad Mæcenatem":