SALA saw another carriage; more glittering cuirassiers; another little pink face; again two little pudgy hands, and a surrounding wave of lace. Baby number two was the Prince Imperial, and the scenes culled from the flowery field of the great journalist's memory mark two memorable epochs in French history. A mere list of the people MR. SALA has known, and the things he has seen, form of themselves an enticing, even an exhilarating chapter. THACKERAY and DICKENS he knew, and worked with, and he throws some fresh light on their characters. Soldiers, actors, statesmen, kings, murderers, and _habitats_ of debtors' prisons, have all come under his observation, and live again in his pages. He is careful to make it clear that this is not his autobiography. On that he is still engaged. This work, presented as a sort of _hors d'oeuvre_, effectually serves to whet the appetite, and makes the world hope he will hurry up with the remaining dishes in the rare feast. "So says my Baronite, and the Court is with him." In reply to a question, which is "_not_ a conundrum," at least so says an Inquirer, as to "why the Baron spells 'sherbet' with two 'r's' instead of only one," the Baron would remind his interlocutor that, _firstly_, "genius is above all rules"; that, _secondly_, the Baron would rather err with two "r's" than have anything to do with a "bet" when it can possibly be avoided; _thirdly_, that being of a generous disposition, in this hot weather he loves prodigality in liquids; not ashamed of avowal. _Finally_, he states that he unconditionally withdraws the "r" in the second syllable of "sherbert," because in "sher_bet_" there is no _'ert_ to anyone. So here's to his eminent Inquirer's jolly good health, says THE BOUNTIFUL B. DE B.-W. * * * * * NOBLESSE OBLIGE.