Here and There.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue XXIV, 10 December 1904, Page 13

Here and There.

First Passenger, promenading on the deck of a liner in mid-ocean, to second passenger, leaning disconsolately against the rail: “Have you dined?” Second Passenger, dejectedly: “On the contrary.”

A prominent Southern lawyer who had just repented of his wild ways and joined the church, was called upon in a religious meeting to pray. He started oft very well, but did not know how to stop. After asking the Divine blessing on everything he could think of, he finally, with a determined effort, ended with these words, “Yours truly, P. Q. Mason.”

Stories about the German Emperor are rife enough now. Here is a good one about his consort: “Not so long ago, when her boys were very small, one of the tutors wanted to take them out in a. rowing-boat on the Havel. Her Majesty refused to let them go, and the tutor took courage to say the Kaiser had given his consent. Said Her Majesty, smiling: ‘He may be Kaiser of Germany, but I am Kaiser of the nursery.’ ”

Many are the changes that are rung on a good joke. Phil May was once asked if he knew the Prince of Wales, to which the famous artist replied that he had not that pleasure. “That’s very strange,” said his questioner; “His Royal Highness told me that he knew you very well.” “Oh, that’s only his brag!” returned the imperturbable Phil. Now Mr Clyde Fitch, the American dramatist, is telling it afresh as the best Whistler story he ever heard.

At a' prayer meeting in Mississippi during the Civil War a Presbyterian brother offered this prayer: “0 Lord, we thank Thee for all Thy boundless goodness; for this rich and beautiful land of ours; for our brave women and valiant men. We thank Thee that we are fully able to take care of ourselves on land: but, 0 Lord, we do most humbly implore Thy assistance when the Yankees send those infernal gunboats to destroy us.” This epitaph is to be seen on th? tomb in the parish churchyard of I.lanwrthwl, near Rhayader, Radnorshire, Woles:—■ Under this stone Heth Meredyth Morgan, Who blew the bellows of our church organ. Tobacco he hated—to smoke most unwilling, Yet never so pleased as when pipes he was filling: No reflection on him for rude speech could be cast, Yet he gave our organist many a blast, No buffer was ho. Though a capital blower; He could fill double G.. And now lies a note lower. Here are some of the terms used by Dr. J. Deniker, of Paris, in a recent lecture at the Anthropological Institute: — Hyperdolichoceplialic (very longheaded). Dolichocephalic (long-headed). Sub-dolichocephalic (moderately longheaded). Mesocephalic (medium-headed). Subqirachycephalic (moderately shortheaded). Brachycephalic (short-headed). Hyperbraehyeephalic (very shortheaded). “I guess,” said the Yankee,” “that there’s some good in your London fogs after all.” “Glad you think so,” said Jones." “Wai. I do. My life was saved out in the West by one last year.” “I don’t, understand you.” “No, perhaps not. You see. when I was here last year I bought a bicycle one thick day, aud had it pumped up there and then, and booked etraight for New York. Just nine weeks afterwards I was on that bike, being chased over the prairie by two hundred mounted Indians. I reckoned my scaTp was good as gone, when bang went my oflclc tyre, and that’s how I dodged ’em, sir. You see, that tyre was full of compressed for —good fog, too—and when it streamed out and spread itself about, I guess them Indian fellers lost me In the mist!”

Most ’bus riders on a certain London route know “Rosy” Jones. He has earned the sobriquet by a judicious devotion to temperance, which has told on his nose; but lie is most excessively sensitive on the point of its tender bloom.

Therefore, when the driver of a rival company diew alongside him recently, and bawled out the opening words of “ ’Tis the Last Rose o of Su-hummer,” Jones was wroth.

He turned an indignant glare on to the proboscis of his tormentor, which also glowed with, rude health, or something.

“Well,” he growled, “I ain’t left bloomin’ alone, anyhow.”

It lingered grim with warning, The sky of yesternight; The world is clad this morning In pearly beauty bright! There always is a morrow When pain shall have surcease, And from the blackest sorrow May come the whitest peace. Edwin Ij. Sahin, in the “Woman’s Home Companion.” A Chinese servant employed in a New A ork family, who lived next door to a famous woman pianist, left suddenly after only a few days’ service. His knowledge of the English language was limited, and the letter which he lecture at the Anthropological Instihis departure was written in Chinese. With the aid of an interpreter the gist of the communication was made out.

“I do not mind your heathen parrot,” said the letter; “I do not mind your barbarous customs of dressing and eating; but the lady next door who sits on the musical instrument every day is too much.”

A number of actors were discussing recently the merits of different hoardinghouses in a certain city, and the argument turned on the comparative meagreness of the table board provided by the various landladies. One of the party, who had listened quietly to the talk, now spoke up. “If any of you fellows really want to put yourself on a rigid diet,”-he said, “go to Mrs. ’s boarding-house in street. I came down to breakfast there one morning, and the servant waltzed up and asked me if I’d have ham or eggs. I said I didn’t want to be grasping, and ordered the yolk of an egg —said I’d have the white of it for lunch.”

It is said that it was an olod captain of the Missouri river who gave us the word “state-room.” His name was aqi uodn paao.tduit oq puu ‘oAuqs cabins, which used to be merely curtained off from each other, by building wooden rooms, naming each after one of the States—Kentucky, Illinois, Pennsylvania. etc. So when a person came on board ho would say, “What State am I in, Captain?” From this little beginning the state-room has spread all over the world. Nowadays, if a captain told a passenger the stale he was in, he might be misunderstood.

A salesman for a bicycle concern met a farmer, to whom he tried to sell a wheel without success. The salesman finally gave him up in despair, but determined to make another effort on his return trip. A month later he made his way to the farmhouse, only to learn, to his disappointment, that his prospective customer had invested his savings in a cow-an act of folly upon which the salesman was moved to comment.

“Why,” he exclaimed, impatiently, “think how easily you might have ridden about the country on a bicycle! You’d look funny riding into town on a cow!” “Humph!” rejoined the farmer, “t reckon I’d look a darned sight funnier trying to milk a bicycle.” My kingdom is my sweet heart's face. And there the boundaries 1 trace: Northward a peaceful forehead fair, A wilderness of golden hair; A rounded cheek to vast and west. Her little mouth the sunny south - It is the south that 1 love best. Her eyes—twin sparkling lakes— Ho;d stars by night—the sun by day. While dimples in her check and chin — Confusion to the traveller's way— Are pitfalls Love, the rascal, makes— And I have fallen in! “Love’s Geography,” by W. M. Crocker, in the “Criterion.” The new steamship Baltic, which made her maiden trip to New York recently, had, as one of her passengers, a man prominent in Wall-street, who considers transatlantic trips as periods of rest. There was a fellow passenger on board who knew the financier slightly, and who was very eager to improve the acquaintance. He did not get an oppor* tunity‘until the second day out from Liverpool, when he saw the Wall-street man coming up on deck. “Hello,” he said; “bound for New York?” “Yes,” replied the financier; “where are you going?” and then he went off and sat down in a steamer-chair by himself. There came a beggar to my door, A comely little hid, With sun-kissed hair and azure eyes. With pensive mien, and sad. So meek he seemed —so poor—alone, I wept at such ill-faring: Regardez! When he entered in He proved a robber daring. Ho barred the door, he barred the pane, (Defenceless quite he found me.) A prisoner in my own demesne. With braggart oaths he bound me. He mocked my tears, he stole my heart, With jest and jibe to Hout inc: With rose-leaf strung on rose-1 af red He wove h'.s chains about me. Quoth ho, “Such sorry garb ns yours No thief would’ deign 1o borrow!" Ho stripped me of my Cynic’s robe, Of Loneliness and Sorrow. Ito found my store of Doubts and Fears. Made loot to merry measure; He scattered far to left and right A hoard of doleful treasure. Ho sealed my lips with kisses throe. And swore he’d stay no longer, But though he made to loos? my chains 1 felt the links grow stronger. Ay. strong ns stool, these shackles sweet I would not break nor sever— A prisoner in my own demesne. Loves holds me fast, forever. “The Marauder," by Meribah PhilbrickReed, In "Life.”

A. new Swiss watch contains a tiny hard rubber phonograph plate, which calls out the hours loud enough to be heard 20ft away. You arc an hour late this morning, Sam.” "Yes, sah, I know it, sab.” "Well, what excuse have you?” "1 was kicked by a mule on my way here, sah.” "That ought not to have detained you an hour, Sam.” "Well, you sec, boss, it wouldn’t have if he’d only have kicked me in dis direction, but he kicked me <le other way !”—•■’Y'onker’s Statesman.”

We have several excellent vocalists on the variety stage who hail from Australia. Miss Ada Colley is one; Mr Hamilton Hill another; and now a third is appearing at the Alhambra in the person of Miss Violet Elliott, who is somewhat embarrassed at being described as the “lady bass.” Miss Elliott is realty a deep contralto, with a phenomenal lower range, and can get down to lower D in Loder's song "The Diver,” which she has been singing. She is also capable of reaching the high G sharp of the mezzo-soprano. The young vocalist considers that she owes much of her vocal excellence to the healthy outdoor life she led in her native country.—“ London Era.”

According io a current anecdote, the Hon. Joseph IL Choate met in the street, not long ago a friend who is a confirmed stutterer. Bu ton-holing the American Ambassador to Great Britain as be was turning a corner,, the unfortunate gentleman spoke as follows: “1 s-ss-ay. Ch-choate, c-c-can you g-g-g--give m ine h-h-half an hour for f-f-f-f-iive m-ir.-inihutes’ c-c-e-c-eonversation?” Another s'ory is told by a well-known Cabinet officer, lie reports the following conversation as taking place during a chance meeting between: stutterers: First Stutterer: Y-you w-w-want to try D-D-Doetor -B-B-B-rown.- old e-e-ehap, for that s-s-stnttering of y-y-y-yours. Second: I-I-Is he a-a-a-ny g-g-ggood?

• First: F-S-S-Slinre; he's best in the b-b-bueiness; h-he c.-e-c-c-ciired mm-me.

A "well-known suburbanite who ' had been greatly troubled by- the depredations of a neighbour’s goat was driven to desperation- one day .when he learned that the animal had ebnsumtn! a red-llannel golf-coat of his. Determined c.n the goat’s destruction, he eployed an unscrupulous small hoy who lived in the neighbourhood to secure him to the railroad track just. before the daily express was due. .Some.days afterwards a friend inquired with in-terest-if the goat had been effectually, disposed' of: "Not on your-life,” was the disgusted-answec; “that goat has a. charmed life. He coughed lip that red golf ebat of mine rt>id flagged the flan.” Ko, rirro. that dog won’t bi to; Not a bit o’ danger! Whnt’s bin breed? Bh<»ro 1 don’t know; .lest a “boy’s dog,” stranger. No St. Bernard y©t last year, Time the snow whs deepest. ■ J’nigged » Itttle shaver home Where the hill was steepest. Ain’t n bulldog, but you bet ’Twouldn’t do to scoff him. Fastened on a tram one time - Cou'dnt pry him off him. Not n pointer- Jest the same, When it is all over. Ain’t a better fritter round Stallin’ up the plover. Foil him? Say. there ain't h’s price. Not in all the Nation! Jest a “boy’s dog”; that’s bis breed— Fineat in creation. MeLandburgh Wilson, in “New York Enn.*’ it is told of the witty old French nbbe, Pero Monsabre. 1 hat on one occarion a lady sent a message to him, just as he was entering the pulpit, that she must see him. After much beating about the bush, she rame to the point. Vanity wns her besetting sin. and only that morning she had yielded to ihe temptation of gazing at herself in the mirror and thinking she was very pretty. Pere Monwabre looked at her steadily for a minute, and then, in his soft, liiusical > nice, he inquired kindly: “Is that all, my daughter?** “Yes, father, that is all.”

“Then, my daughter, go in peace. For to make a mistake is no sin."

"A Colonial Girl” writes from Natal to "Modem Society”: “I have just.returned from my first visit to Knghrnd, and was charmed with the British Isles;; but. what surprised and- shocked me more than anything else was to see females smoking. I consider it a pernicious habit that quite unsexes a woman. If a woman is seen smoking a cigarette in South Africa she is at once put down to be a very undesirable person. 1 am truly sorry that Englishwomen have debased themselves by starting the habit. I hope it is only a whim, and will soon pass away. Gentlemen may like to be in the company of these mannish females, but they seldom care to marry one. To my mind, a woman never looks so hideous and debased as when she is seen smoking.”

That deadly implement, the hatpin of modern times, is a descendant of an equally formidable toilet article used by Roman women. . The Aspaisias and Julias and Claudias who decked themselves a couple of thousand years or more ago, to the undoing of the particular Balbus or Marcus they desired to fascinate, wore bone hairpins of prodigious length. Yet, like the women of this present time, they seem to have experienced the same difficulty in keeping them in pl-ace. This fact eame to light during excavations at Silehestcr, near Reading, a hundred or so of these bone hairpins being found in the Roman bath, collected, maybe, by the bath attendant, to prove all these eentui.es later that there is nothing new under the sun, and that in all ages the same little foibles have been possessed by women. Do yon think of that hour in the twilight, When Hesper wns beaming above? When 1 needed no Hesper for my light. Being lit with illusory love? .But little did I or did you say, As I fed with delight on the view Of your chin that was slightly retrousse, And now has developed to two. I recall with what passion I pleaded, 1 • cherish the answer 'yon gave, When 1 told you my love only needed To live or- to die ns-your - slave. Smail,- small was the mercy assigned inc, But I see now it might.have been less: I remember you flatly declined me—--1 remember you might have said “Y-s.’.' "A Grateful Memory,”, in “Punch.” The. maimer in which the British nation has come to indulge in luxurious habits and amusements on Sunday is deelared by the Rev. R. ,T. Gampbell, in the “National Review,” to re.all the decadent days of ancient Rome. “So far from being the day of rest ■Sunday is becoming the most boisterous •<lny.of the week; it is the slay when the rich man gives his choicest part ies, and the day when the poor man jfets drunk in the company of his boon companions. It ’is the day- Of social intercourse, from •galling engagements to praver-bbok parade.” ■ ’ ' • Air Campbell proceeds to make a'vigorous attack ch the BritiTn working man. "Two-thirds of the national drink bill,” he says, “is incurred by the working man. His keenest struggles arc tor •shorter hours and better wages, Luc not that he may employ them for higher ends. He is often lazy, unthrifty, improvident, sometimes immoral, foulmouthed, and untruthful.” Mr Punch continues his proverbial philosophy of which we have previously given some samples: Melancholy is channiisr; but it need not be cultivated while we have English cookery. Be kind to all sentient creatures; you never, know when you- may need bail. Neither cause,- nor take," offence; but, if you must do one or the other. remember that it is always better to give than to receive. Dave a cure for the first step i-a a h. vc affair; an indiscretion with the hors d’oeuvre has spoilt many a fine appetite. There's many an untrue word spoken in earnest. Beware of applause; •it is usually given by someone who wants exercise—or some tiling. Even the most dogmatic are not always wrong. The race would generally he to the swift and the battle to the strong if those who ran horses and arranged the wiestling matches played the game.

It is better to be off with the new lovi before you are on with the old again.

When a woman says she wouldn’t marry the best man alive shv speaks the truth; she couldn't get -him. "Tomorrow l ” is the reef'that has cost the life of mafiy a business man. - If every women’s faee was her fortune, there would be a run on the veil market. Wild oats are not sown in straight furrows. Justice might take your part, but injustice takes your all. Too many irons in the fire eat up much expensive coal. Don’t take a polite acknowledgment for an encore. The man who pumps at' conclusions usually falls with them. Curiosity ofttimes hides behind the mask of solicitude. Everything conies to him who waits, except the waiter. When you are arguing with a fool, just remember the fool is doing the same thing. One of the strangest of farms in the country, if not in the whole world, is situated in Southern California, 205 ft below the level of the sea. The place is known as Salton. It is a salt farm of about one thousand acres. Here the salt lies, as deposited by Nature, from six inches to sixteen inches in depth. Tiie salt farmers are busy harvesting this crop the year round; ami though the harvest has continued for twenty years, during which time more than forty thousand tons of salt has been harvested, only ten of the one thousand acres of the farm have been touched. The salt is first ploughed up into furrows; it is then thrown into conic.l piles by men with barrows, after which it is taken to the reduction works near by. and put into marketable condition. The work is done by Mexicans and Chinamen, the intense heat being more than the white man can endure.

Old Quidsby liked being rich very well indeed, but he wished that, his eaef would not write the menu in his native language —French. ‘I should, like to know what I’m eating for once, M. Alphonse,” he said to that functionary. “Let us have the menu in English to-day.” "Oui, in’sieii. It ees ver’ difficile, but I reel do it so. if you reel seize for me zc dictionaire.” . A small but select party came to dinner that evening, and were somewhat astou'sheJ at the following menu: .Soup.at the tail of the calf. ' Salmon in curl-papers. ' Chest of mutton to the little peas. Potatoes jumped. Ducks savage at sharp sauce. Charlotte at the app’es. ■ Turkey .at • the devil.- . - - Fruits variegated. ‘ Bitt Quidsby and Mrs Quiddiy agreed afterwards that, they luul ijevcr presided over a more hilarious dinner-party. An English gentiemsu went away to the far north-west of Canada, and there, almost within the shadow of the Rocky Mountains and alone,-he turned up the unbroken prairie soil, and began to make for himself a farm-

. There was a girl he left behind him—an English girl, of gentle birth and upbringing.-

From her home of peace and eomfpct the’girl was ready to go out to the wiM, .new land, and “rough it” by the side at the man she loved. “But this is an impossible thing,” said her lover. “There is not even a bouse in which you ebuld shelter. You and 1 must have patience.” • ' -..i . When he had gone the girl did not give way to vain regrets. Instead, sh* sat down and very quietly thought the matter out. ■ Then she saw that the man had bcefi right. She looked at her hands—long, white, slender bauds with polished nails. They had never known the reeking washtub and the scorching cooking-stove. She looked in the glass, and saw: that her face had only the delicate comeliness of a maiden reared in a town. I She realised also what the man in his kindness had forborne to say —that she would be a hindrance to him in his work. .

Some painters go to an amazing amount of trouble to secure fresh subjects. Mr A. D. McCormick, has painted some pictures at an elevation of 20,000 feet in the solitude of the highest Himalayas, with not a vestige of any form of life in sight, At this altitude the slightest exertion makes even the strongest man gasp, because of the rarefied condition of the air. To cross one leg over the other makes one pant as though from an athletic struggle. The great Turner was onee overtaken by a storm at sea, and had himself securely lashed to the mast, that he might observe it without fear of being pitched into the water. Mr Caledon Cameron, while painting his enormous picture, "Niagara in Winter,” spent hours in zero weather suspended at a dizzy height over the Falls. That much deplored’ Russian war artist, Verestehagin, was as much at home on the battlefield as in his studio at home. And while bullets were whistling past his ears, and swords and bayonets flashed before Ins eyes, would calmly produce Ids sketch book and make a drawing.

liirting in strange places is revealed in the following paragraph from the London “Express”: “The Dean of Nor? intends to stop flirting in the nave of the cathedral, against which he protested on Sunday, bj’ ■ placing young p< ople. in tiie front seats, where they will come directly within his line of vision.' ‘I • have taken steps/ said the Dean to an ‘Express’ representative, ‘to prevent a continuance of the annoyance. I have instructed my seventy stewards, who give their services, on Sunday .even: ings, to remonstrate With, and warn any persons whom they see talking during the service. A continuance or repetition of the offence,’ he xdded, /will be threatened with prosecution for the dis-turbance-of public worship.’ There was a detective present at the service on ■Sunday evening, and half a dczeii seats •have been removed from the back end of the nave.”

The Princess of Monaco, who ,was Miss Heine, of New Orleans before she ■became a • prineess, has amazed a local magistrate by declaring that she never does., or never can, count her money or jewels, says a Paris newspaper. This coiiteinpt for wealth in detail was divulged during the Princess’ examination as to her losses in the recent

burglary of her apartments in the Hotel Moreef’-'S. * ■ There might have been as much as '4E2000 in a desk that was rifled, she said, •r the amount might have been £4OOO. She really could not tell. Nor was it possible for her to give any description pf the missing jewels, as she had never counted them or estimated their value.

The astounded magistrate asked the Princess how she managed her financial affairs.

“Oh, when I go shopping,” she replied, naively, “I just fill a bag with money and buy what I want. That is the end of it.” As to the missing jewels, she could give the police no help. It was possible, she thought, that a certain diadem might be identified. “You see,” she added, “it contained a large diamond that interested me. I wore it on the occasion of my royal entrance into Monaco. As to the other jewels, I cannot remember what they were.”

Casting a shoe after a newly married couple is one of the oldest customs that still clings to the fabric of this up-to-date life. Centuries ago —nay, thousands of years ago —it was one of the means employed by the people of antiquity to indicate ownership. When a piece of land was purchased oi given to one, or a man acquired ownerwhip of a house, a cow, or took unto himself a wife, it was the established custom to cast a shoe over the land, the ■building, the animal, or the woman, thus asserting to the world that he had acquired all rights of ownership.

1 The custom is mentioned In several places in the Bible; for instance, in Psalms ix. 8, where the phrase, “Over Edom will I cast out my shoe,” is employed to mean that by this method .will ownership be asserted. Few who do it probably know why they cast a shoe after the newly married, but in this ancient custom is its origin found. So does a relic of barbarism linger in bur midst, and for her own sake the bride ought to sec that it is no longer practised. Many people who are not in the habit Of dining at foreign restaurants are greatly puzzled how to choose dishes, owing to the menu being usually written in French. Here are a few hints to help them:—Glace: A water ice. Glace sometimes means. iced, used as an adjective. Jardiniere is a fashion of cooking vegetables in their own juices: they are cut into fancy shapes. (Jar-din-yehr.) Piece de resistance: .The principal joint of the dinner, or the chief dish of any meal. Potage (po-tahje): A general term for all kinds of soup. Pate: Small pies, in which is served bysters, meat, or some sort of creamed mixture. Puree: Vegetables or meat reduced by boiling to a thick pulp, and then thinned with a liquid until it is of the consistency of thick soup. 1 Souflo (soo-flay): A very light omelet or puff, which may be sweet or sayoury. Ragout (ra-goo): A stew, made of almost any kind of meat and vegetables, the kind giving it a particular name. Usually this stew is flavoured with wine just before serving. Roux (too): A cooked mixture of butter and flour, used for thickening soups and gravies. “I fear, my dear madam,” said the physician, “that your stomach will never recover its tone, unless you limit yourself to the simplest diet imaginable.” “Ah, sir,” cried the woman, tears rolling down her cheeks, “would that I could! But that is impossible.” “Impossible! Why?” “Because I am the wretched woman .who supplies photographs of ‘dainty dishes’ to the fashion magazines. In order to photograph them, I must prepare them, and, as I cannot afford to .waste expensive materials, I must eat .them.” The physician started from his chair. “It is certain death,” he cried. “What have you eaten to-day, my child?” “I had for breakfast a shredded ■wheat biscuit filled with candied violets and olives, with a maple sugar and grated cheese sauce, the whole surrounded with a wreath of daisies for decorative effect. For luncheon,” the horror deepening in her eyes, “a large ripe tomato stuffed with cold lobster.

Newburg and chopped ntili. served with sherry and chocolate, dressing. Thip was topped with a pure white chrysanthemum, and a few orchids were laid lightly about the plate. They made beautiful photographs.” “And they call men brave," murmured the doctor. “1 now understand why so largo a percentage of my patients are women.” -■

The late Senator Quay used to eujoy telling of the tall stories recounted by the West Virginian anglers along the banks of the Cheat River (remarks “Harper’s”). One day a stranger from Maryland, in search of sport, asked one of the natives whether there was good fishing in the vicinity. “Noue better anywhere,” was the reply. "What kind of fish have you hereabouts?” asked the stranger. “Oh, most all kinds.” “I hope there are some game-fish t® be had,” continued the man from Maryland. “Tell me, what was the weight of the largest fish ever caught in this region.” "Well, sir,” responded the West. Virginian, “we don’t never take no weighin’machine with us when we fish, so I wouldn’t like to say, being an honest man, just how much that hist trout of mine did weigh. But. stranger, I don’t mind tellin’ you that when I pulled that fish out of the water the river went down a foot!”

Marvels multiply unceasingly at the Hippodrome, where the perplexing Phroso has found a successor equally inexplicable in Zutka and the blaek box in which he is carefully packed, remarks a London theatrical paper. It seems impossible to believe that a full-sized man can be contained within its twofeet limits; but doubts are speedily set at rest by the gentleman who introduces Zutka unlocking the box, the sides of which collapse outward, and the figure of a tall pierrot is unfolded. Raising the' figure to his feet, the operator touches a spring, and Zutka bows in the most natural way ere he is carried bodily by his guardian to the stage, where an electrical apparatus is set at work, and the doll’s hands roach up and grasp a couple of rings which hang from ropes above his head. The figure is doubled in two, and his legs strapped to his body, which revolves in the approved gymnastic fashion. Having gravely acknowledged the applause, the figure is bundled unceremoniously into Ins ebony casket, which before being finally closed is passed round so that the audience may examine the doll—an ordeal which he undergoes with undisturbed rigidity. Regarded as an automaton, Zutka is a masterly piece of mechanism, but the stolid demeanour and inflexibility of the doll, and the manner of its disposal in the box, are all but incredible in a being of flesh and blood. Whatever it may be, man or marionette-—or perhaps a combination of both —Zutka is certain to stimulate public curiosity to any lengths, and his composition is likely to be an open question for a long time to come.

But her slender body held a stout heart and a high spirit. So she set to work to learn roughing it at home.

First she went to some volunteer friends and asked to be taught to shoot. They put a heavy service rifle into her hands, and laughed at her. But she was not to be laughed at. She'glued herself to the range, and soon made some of the members of the rifle club —of which she was the only lady mem-ber—-wonder at her skill. Later she went to Bisley.

That was at last summer's great meeting, and there Miss Florence Lewis—that is the girl’s name—became the centre of interest in the camp. It was an unwonted thing to see a pretty blue-eyed girl lying on a firing mat and scoring “bulls” and “inners.” All the men came to see her, and she was called the “lady shot."

From her shooting Miss Lewis claims that she has learned much. The handling of a loaded weapon, she says, gives her a sense of self-reliance, and has taught her discipline and patience.

With this new stock of patienpe she set to work on less congenial tasks. She blackened her wliitc hands on grates, and roughened them in the washtub. She cooked, scoured, and damed. Miss Lewis is not content with mastering all household work of the hard-

est kind. She means to be as useful aa a “hired man” about the ..fields. So she is going down to a farm ,ta -Essex Is work as an ordinary, labourer. Site will milk the cows, do dairy work, tend the sheep, and dig. The art of horsebreaking will be thrown in by way of a diversion.

• “Then,” she says, laughingly, “when I am a good farm hand, I shall take my gun and be off to Canada in the spring. And I’ll rough it with the best of them.”

It will surprise most people, and perhaps amaze Americans, to be told that there is an American order of knighthood. But such is the fact. Washing ton created one, naming it the Order of Cineinatus, after the Roman patriot. It is hereditary; but, swainped in the tide of Republican so-called equality, it has fallen into abeyance. The only instance which we can find of its existence to-day is that of M. de Bouille, the well-known French statesman. When he was sent, .as Ambassador to the Court of Madrid he wore it among the many decorations that glittered upon his coat.

Speaking of heraldry in America, a writer in a current magazine calls attention to a fact which may be. verified seven days in the week by a walk along Fifth Avenue; how among the passing carriages he noticed many which bore arms to which the owners had no right, while an equal number bore monograms where a crest or eoat-of-arins might justly have been blazoned. He goes on to quote an anecdote told by Mr Crampton, who was once British Minister at Washington. It seems that he imported a brougham from England, and on visiting a carriage-builder some time later found a miscellaneous collection of vehicles ornamented with his own arms. On making inquiries he learned that several citizens who “liked” the pattern had had it copied. The grey tree whispered, soft and low—- “ Would ye not have me ever so? Do yet not see in my branches shorn The hope of the life to the newly born? Do yet not feel in the winter mist The breath of Remembrance by Sorrow kissed ? When the sun Is ended, and all things cease. Shall ye not covet my gentle peace?” —“A Song of Winter.” by Mark Ilyam, in ‘Tall Mall Magazine.” What is the lowest sum for which a passage round the world can be secured? Here is a guide, culled from Mr Morley Roberts’ latest work, “A Tramp’s Notebook,” for the man who wants to go

round the world "on the cheap,” and who does not object fo •.'roughing it,” say* a London paper. c “He eon cut the Atlantic journey to £3, and learn some things he never knew while doing it. I can put any one up to mossing America for £l5 at any time. But if he spends £2O, lie can are Niagara, the work of God, and Chicago, the chef d’oeuvre of the devil. The Pacific can be done for £2O steerage; and lie can stay in Australia a month for £lO and a year for £2O if lie knows what I know. The steerage fare Home is £lO.

“1 fancy it would be the best invest' inent that any young fellow could make. He would learn more of what life is titan the world of London would teach him in tiic ordinary grooves in ten years.” This totals £B4.

Armed with this guide, a newspaper representative visited Messrs Cook an I Sons. An official glanced at it, smiled triumphantly, made a few lightning calculations, and then remarked:

“As far as travelling expenses alone arc concerned, we could send a man round the world for £47 4/5. He would go from London to Southampton, third class; thence to New York, on the new steerage rates; rail to San Franeico; go by steamer to Sydney, and on, witfi ‘open’ berth accommodation (mon only) to London. This fare includes Niagara, and the passenger would enjoy the luxury of travelling first class from New York to San Francisco. A really luxurious trip round the globe would cost exactly £18? 18/. This would include a £OO berth aerbss the Atlantic, and the very best accommodation on the trains; and would enable the passenger to visit Japan, China, India, and Egypt, returning by way of Naples, Rome, Turin, and Paris to London.”

This month a select party will tet out to make a trip round tlie world under Cook's wing. They will be away six months, and the tour will cost each passenger £l9O. This sum is inclusive of every possible expense of living. The £490 tourist, can eat the very best dinner at Cairo or Calcutta, without a thought of even tipping the waiter. Cabmen and “donkey-boys,” railway porters, and guides have no terrors for these lucky tourists. Cook’s take all burdens from their shoulders.