[Illustration: "THE CHAMPION SHAVER!" MR. G. "YOU'RE A BIT BRISTLY, SIR, BUT I THINK WE SHALL POLISH YOU OFF BEFORE CLOSING TIME!!"] OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. "The ever-advancing _Woman_," observes one of the Baronesses, "has quite come forward this Christmas, daintily attired." Wonderful money-prizes are to be won by the lucky person who guesses the author of "Bid Me not Go," which is the Christmas story of the enterprising _Gentlewoman_. "As for Christmas Cards being Christmassy," quoth a young Baron brusquely, "why it's all WALKER!" The Baron was about to rebuke the scion of his noble house, but discovered, on application, that the youth had been alluding to the Christmas Card publisher of that name, whose designs are not peculiarly Christmassy, but what the Baroness terms "so dainty!" S. HILDESHEIMER & Co.'s clever and amusing Christmas Cards will be much appreciated by young people. Three books full of stories, to suit all ages. HUTCHINSON'S House. _Fifty-two Stories for Children_, _Fifty-two Stories for Girlhood and Youth_, and _Fifty-two Stories for Boyhood and Youth_. Just a story a week, will last the year. Collected by ALFRED H. MILES. You won't find a better if you go for Miles. _Valdmer, the Viking_, by HUME NISBET, was a wonderful Dane, who, after invading England in the Tenth Century, took a trip from Thanet (having invented Ramsgate and Margate) all round America, and thought nothing of it. Those who read this will probably think something of it. _The Hoyden_, written by Mrs. HUNGERFORD, and published by HEINEMANN, is the story of a rather frivolous nineteenth-century tomboy; "but," quoth the Baroness, "though it does not come within measurable distance of _The O'Connors of Ballinahinch_, it is pleasant light reading." _Mr. Gladstone's Life; Told by Himself_, is an alluring title, which, in spite of the volume being issued by so respectable a house as KEGAN PAUL'S, savours of a flam. But it is genuine enough. Every word in the little volume has been spoken or written by Mr. GLADSTONE. Mr. LEECH, whilst modestly disclaiming any imposition of responsibility upon the PREMIER, has ingeniously linked passages from speeches or letters published under his name during the past sixty years. The result is a really fascinating work. Mr. GLADSTONE has always been prone to drop into autobiography. Nothing, my Baronite tells me, was more delightful than the speeches he used to deliver in the House of Commons on Friday and Tuesday nights. Some chance reference to CANNING, PEEL, or PALMERSTON brought up a flood of recollections, and Mr. G. used to chat of old times with the entranced House.