The above have been submitted to an eminent expert, who says he could almost swear they are the same hand-writing, but must come and dine with _Mr. P._, in order absolutely to verify them. * * * * * [Illustration: A BAD ENDING.--"Well, William, what's become of Robert?" "What, 'aven't you 'eard, sir?" "No! Not _defunct_, I hope!" "That's just exactly what he _'as_ done, sir, and walked off with heverything he could lay his 'ands on!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SALVE FOR THE CONSCIENCE _Vegetarian Professor._ "No, madam, not even fish. I cannot sanction the destruction of life. These little creatures, for instance, were but yesterday swimming happily in the sea." _Mrs. O'Laughlan._ "Oh but, Professor, just think it's the first time the poor little things have ever been really warm in their lives!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FELICITOUS QUOTATION "Oh, Robert, the grouse has been kept too long! I wonder you can eat it!" "My dear, 'we needs must love the highest when we see it.'" (_Guinevere._)] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Boreham_ (_relating his Alpine adventures_). "There I stood, the terrible abyss yawning at my feet----" _That Brute Brown._ "Was it yawning when you got there, or did it start after you arrived?"] * * * * * [Illustration: At a dinner given by my Lord Broadacres to some of his tenants, curaçoa is handed in a liqueur-glass to old Turnitops, who, swallowing it with much relish, says--"Oi zay, young man! Oi'll tak zum o' that in a moog!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PRICE FOR AGE _Mr. Green._ "You needn't be afraid of that glass of wine, uncle. It's thirty-four port, you know." _Uncle._ "Thirty-four port!--Thirty-four fiddlesticks! It's no more thirty-four port than you are!" _Mr. Green._ "It _is_ I can assure you! Indeed, it's _really thirty-six_; and _thirty-four if you return the bottles_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FLUNKEIANA _Master._ "Thompson, I believe that I have repeatedly expressed an objection to being served with stale bread at dinner. How is it my wishes have not been attended to?" _Thompson._ "Well, sir, I reely don't know what is to be done! It won't do to waste it, and we _can't_ eat it downstairs!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONCLUSIVE SCENE--_Hibernian Table d'hôte_ _Guest._ "Waiter! I say--this is pork! I want mutton!" _Waiter_ (_rather bustled_). "Yes, sorr, it's mutton ye _want_--but it's pork ye'll _have_!"] * * * * * RAMBLING RONDEAUX _At Table d'hôte_ At _table d'hôte_, I quite decline To sit there and attempt to dine! Of course you never dine, but "feed," And gobble up with fearsome greed A hurried meal you can't define.