What we briefless barristers want in these hard times is merely the chance. I look to Messrs. GATTI to give it to us. I ought to add that the above address, though, in point of fact, it is my own, is given purely by way of illustration, and in no way to advertise myself, though should anyone wish to consult--again, of course, purely with reference to this suggestion--the way to my chambers from the Strand is down Middle Temple Lane, whilst the Temple Station is just three minutes' walk. I am, Sir, your obliged servant. L. ERNED COUNSEL. _November 30th, 1893._ * * * * * No second editions for Mrs. R. She says "she'll see the _First Mrs. Tanqueray_, or none at all!" * * * * * [Illustration: THE SAFE SIDE. (_Problem set:--To flatter a Poet's vanity and do no violence to your conscience._) _Pownceby_ (_a minor poet_). "ES, HAVE YOU SEEN MY LAST VOLUME, LADY VERA--_THROBS AND THROES?_" _Lady Vera._ "OH, YES, I HAVE." _Pownceby._ "AND WHAT DID YOU THINK?" _Lady Vera._ "OH, I THOUGHT--THAT YOU HAD NEVER DONE ANYTHING BETTER."] * * * * * THE LOST SMELL. [The Queen's Hall is at present free from the smell of cooking hitherto "the inseparable accompaniment of orchestral music."--_Times, Nov. 27._] Seated to-day at a concert, I am weary and ill at ease, Though LLOYD and ALBANI are singing, Or anyone else you please; I know not what they are doing, For something is wanting there-- That old-fashioned concert-hall odour Which throbbed in the scented air. It flooded the place, like one of BEETHOVEN'S sonatas might, And it lay on my fevered spirit With a touch of wild delight; It quieted pain and sorrow, It thrilled the enraptured sense, A song without words--or music-- That travelled one knew not whence; It linked all delightful odours Into one perfect peace, And trembled away into soup-plates As if it were loth to cease. I have sought--but I seek it vainly-- That one lost smell sublime, Which came from adjacent kitchens At dinner or supper time. It may be that CHOPIN is severed From scents which with music we group, It may be that SCHUBERT is parted For ever from odours of soup. * * * * * The Belfry of Bruges Overlooked. ["A more silent city than Bruges does not exist."--_Standard._] What? Bruges a silent city! Now, nay a thousand times! If deaf, accept our pity; If not,--oh dear! those chimes! * * * * * NEW LEGAL WORK. (_By the author of "In Silk Attire."_)--"The Briefless Junior; or, Plenty of Stuff to Spare." * * * * * ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.