I think my married reader of the rougher sex will agree with me when I say that there are few more uncomfortable, not to say alarming, moments than those spent in the awful interview with the parents of his beloved, during which he has to prove beyond all doubt that he is in every respect an individual to whom the happiness of a "dear child" can be safely entrusted. What a bad quarter of an hour that is before the meeting, when he has grave doubts as to the sufficiency of his income! Will it, with other future possibilities, be considered sufficient to assure to "my daughter, sir, the comforts to which she has been accustomed"? This he will have to answer satisfactorily, together with a few score more questions more or less agonizing. Leech drew a scene of common application when he produced the picture that follows, which he calls "Rather Alarming"--"On Horror's Head, Horrors accumulate." Look at that terrible female and prospective mother-in-law!--think of satisfying such a woman that you are worthy of admission into her family! How sincerely one pities that poor little Corydon, and how heartily one wishes him success! "RATHER ALARMING." LADY: "You wished, sir, I believe, to see me respecting the state of my daughter's affections with a view to a matrimonial alliance with that young lady. If you will walk into the library, my husband and I will discuss the matter with you." YOUNG CORYDON: "Oh, gracious!" Leech treats--how admirably!--another greedy boy, or, rather, two greedy boys. JACKY: "Hallo, Tommy! what 'ave you got there?" TOMMY: "Hoyster!" JACKY: "Oh, give us a bit!" A Calais oyster, no doubt--large enough for both; but Tommy will not share his happiness. Intensity of expression pervades him from his open mouth to his fingers' ends. Jacky's face and figure are no less expressive of eagerness to join in the banquet. [Illustration: "SO YOU HAVE TAKEN ALL YOUR STUFF, AND DON'T FEEL ANY BETTER, EH? WELL, THEN, WE MUST ALTER THE TREATMENT. YOU MUST GET YOUR HEAD SHAVED; AND IF YOU WILL CALL HERE TO-MORROW MORNING ABOUT ELEVEN, MY PUPIL WILL PUT A SETON IN THE BACK OF YOUR NECK."]