Increase not, wanderer, the policeman's load; Ask not the site of Lower Ashley Road. Inquire not eagerly for Conduit Place, But start unasking on thy terraced chase. These places to policemen are unknown, So shall the pride of finding be thine own. Go forth, go forth, itinerary pundit, And find the place that takes its name from Conduit. Thy journey, after many a turn and twist'll Land thee at Lower Ashley Road in Bristol. Then pause, and, having raised a thankful voice, Take 'midst five terraces thy doubtful choice; And, envied by policemen on their beats, Return, a lexicon of Bristol streets. * * * But the badness of the streets and the ignorance of policemen as to their whereabout is nothing to the annoyance caused by the Salvation Army bands near St. Clement's Church in Newfoundland Road. "On Ascension Day," the Vicar writes, "our service was completely stopped for several minutes, as the preacher, who had a bad cold, was unable to shout above the din of the passing drum." I shudder to imagine what would have been the plight of the congregation if the preacher had been free from cold, and capable of shouting down a drum. * * * Rowing and cricket are more closely connected than many people suppose. In an account of the Oxford eight-oared bumping races, I read that "New College started at a tremendous bat." This of course accounts for the bawling on the bank by which these races are always accompanied. Further on it is stated that "New College finished at 40, all out"--which seems rather a small score. * * * I commend the brevity of the Mayor of Cambridge, Mr. HYDE HILLS, who, being obviously above Hyde Park, does not condescend to the verbosity of the spouters who on Sundays congregate in that locality. The other day Mr. HYDE HILLS was elected to be an Alderman, and all he said was, "I thank you." This is _optimi exempli_, especially for Aldermen. * * * Lately I came across the following touching appeal of an impecunious son to his father:-- Sir,--I have piles of bills, Regular miles of bills; My banking account's in a hash. All on the debtor side, Nought on the better side; The balance you'd hardly call "cash." 'Tis terrible when you're reduced thus to penury, Even if _that's_ nothing new. Hope! Can I dream of it? Yes, there's a gleam of it; My quarter's allowance is due! * * * At the Bigg Market in Newcastle was recently held what a local paper describes as "a demnostration in favour of temperance reform." "Demnostration" is a delightful word. It seems to express in the most compact form enthusiasm and strong language. * * * * *