_Archie_ (_to himself_). I'm not half sorry this Poet-johnny's comin'; I never caught a Bard in a booby-trap _yet_. _Capt. Thick._ (_to himself_). She's coming--this very evening! And I was nearly sayin' I must get back to Aldershot! _Lady Rhoda._ So Lady CANTIRE's comin'; we shall all have to be on our hind legs now! But MAISIE'S a dear thing. Do you know her, Captain THICKNESSE! _Capt. Thick._ I--I used to meet Lady MAISIE MULL pretty often some time ago; don't know if she'll remember it, though. _Lady Rhoda._ She'll love meetin' this writin' man--she's so fearfully romantic. I heard her say once that she'd give anythin' to be idealised by a great poet--sort of--what's their names--PETRARCH and LAURA business, don't you know. It will be rather amusin' to see whether it comes off--won't it? _Capt. Thick._ (_choking_). I--ah--no affair of mine, really. (_To himself._) I'm not intellectual enough for her, I know that. Suppose I shall have to stand by and look on at the Petrarchin'. Well, there's always Aldershot! [_The luncheon gong sounds, to the general relief and satisfaction._ * * * * * TO THE OXFORD CRICKET CAPTAIN. "_100, Not Out._" _Monday, July 2, 1894._ Congratulations, Mr. C. B. FRY, You neatly wiped the Cantab Light Blue eye, And well deserved the fashionable shout Which hailed you for your century, not out. For your exploits, what language is too tall? At cricket good alike with bat and ball, Full back at football (that's Association), At jumping lengthways--well, you lick creation. In Schools no idler when stern duty calls, Already having got a First in "Smalls." Yes, Oxford surely boasts to-day in you, Her most distinguished son, a Triple Blue. The Lord's good wicket made a scoring high day, But you yourself turned Monday into Fry-day! * * * * * ANARCHIST ATTEMPT ON A WELL-KNOWN BRIDGE.--After several failures, the Hampton Court Bridge was shot yesterday evening by a young man, supposed to be an Anarchist, whose name and address remain a profound secret, as, owing to his having taken his outrigger by the hour, and, having paid his shot, there was no excuse for his detention by the assistants in charge of the boats. He had been dining freely at a neighbouring hostelrie, the sign of which being "The Mitre," suggested to the intelligent detective in charge of the case the probability of the wretched youth being a "dîne-à-mitre." Furnished with this clue, the police are on his track. Fortunately the bridge escaped without injury, and this morning it not only crossed the river itself without difficulty, but assisted many travellers to do the same. * * *