Idea not absolutely new. Principle established in case of citizens displaying crest or coat-of-arms. What is novel is suggested method of taxation. Differing from the dog-tax, levied at a common rate, it is proposed that our old nobility shall, in this fresh recognition of their lofty estate, be dealt with on a sliding scale. A duke will have his pre-eminence recognised by an exceptionally high rate of taxation. Marquises, earls and a' that will be mulct on a descending scale, till the lowly knight is reached. He will be compensated for comparative obscurity in the glittering throng by being let off for a nominal sum. Chancellor fears it is too late to adopt proposal this year, a way of putting it which seems to suggest that we may hear more of it in next year's Budget. _Business done._--Hayes Fisher's Amendment to Budget Bill negatived by 303 votes to 265. Reduction of Ministerial majority to 38 hailed with boisterous burst of cheers and counter-cheers. * * * * * [Illustration: Garden City Washing-day. Our sensitive artist insists on a harmonious colour-scheme.] * * * * * The Lord Mayor (on hearing a certain Peel): "Turn again (in your grave), Whittington." * * * * * New song for old Cantabs.:-- "O. B., what can the mate be?" * * * * * RUS IN URBE. No, this is not the Russian ballet. It is the English Folk Dance Society, and their performances at the Royal Horticultural Hall at Westminster the other day showed that the Russian ballet is not to have things all its own way. I am not going to moralise upon the salacious quality of some of the themes of our exotic visitors, but certainly it would be difficult to find a stronger contrast to their ruling passion than is presented by the purity and simplicity of these country dances. "Sellinger's Bound," danced to an air that lulled _Titania_ to sleep all through the winter at the Savoy, was the most popular, with its ring of a dozen dancers, hands joined, running together into the centre of their circle, as if to honour some imaginary deity--possibly Mr. Cecil Sharp, director of the Society, who has collected and revived the airs to which they dance. Then there were the Morris-dances, "Shepherd's Hey" (with nothing about a "nonny-nonny" in it), and "Haste to the Wedding." There might perhaps be a greater propriety in the latter if it were confined to men; but at least it raised no apprehension that anybody was going to "repent at leisure." In the "Flamborough Sword" dance, the men (with no Amazon assistance) raced through the figure and out again, eight of them, armed with bloodless wooden swords--a finely ordered riot.