"But a Yorkshireman may be a philosopher," observed C.E.W., who now interposed a remark, "and philosophy can stand every description of hot water, save that which love brings us into. Practical jokes are of many kinds; a kiss is very often but a practical joke; and as an appropriate successor to your tale of the silk stocking and the boot, let me give you the story of THE GIRL AND THE PHILOSOPHER. As Kate went tripping up the town (No lassie e'er looked prettier), An "unco chiel" in cap and gown (No mortal e'er looked grittier) Accosted Kitty in the street, As she was going to cross over, And robb'd her of a kiss--the cheat, Saying, "I'm a _philosopher_!" "A what?" said Kitty, blushing red, And gave his cap a toss over; "Are you? Oh, _phi_!" and off she sped, Whilst he bewail'd the "_los-oph-er!_" "The learned lover, sir, who bewailed the '_los-oph-er_'(said a visitor, who now favoured us with his company) was the last man in the world to die of love. No man ever died of love, who did not kill himself; and no man ever killed himself, who knew what philosophy was. True philosophy may buy prussic-acid, but, like Tantalus, taste not a drop; true philosophy saunters to the Serpentine, and then saunters back to supper and a cigar. This," said Dr. Bulgardo, L.S.D., "I shall endeavour to illustrate in a poetical tribute to THE GRAVE OF THE SUICIDE (WHO THOUGHT BETTER OF IT). My eye grew as dull as a half-scallop'd oyster, And soon would my death in the _Times_ have rejoiced her; So to Battersea-fields, for no meadows are moister, I hurried to drown both myself and my woes. Down life's sunny stream many seasons I'd floated Till pleasures now bored me, on which I had doted; So I vowed that my death should by lovers be quoted Where the pale, sentimental asparagus grows. Alas! I exclaim'd, with a half-broken hiccup, The soft crumbs of comfort no more can I pick up; My sorrows are mix'd as it were in a tea-cup, Without any sugar to take off the taste. But sorrows are often inflicted to try us; Kind fortune, invisibly, often stands by us; And now on the roof of the famous eel-pie house The blinker-eyed goddess was luckily placed. She kindly assured me my views were mistaken, That really by Betty I wasn't forsaken; So I walk'd back to town and got into the Fakenham coach, to return to my Betty again. Four lovers already had tried to divert her Attentions from me, but their eagerness hurt her; She said that she knew that I wouldn't desert her, And now is the suicide gayest of men!" [Illustration] A RIGID SENSE OF DUTY.