_The Banishment of Jessop Blythe_, written by JOSEPH HATTON, and published by HUTCHINSON, belongs to the _Yellow Book_ series, only that is as far as the cover is concerned, which is of a startlingly jaundiced tone and does not in the least represent the kindly author's views of life. The story is about the ropemakers by one who clearly "knows the ropes." This industry, as will be gathered from the present romance, is not confined to Ropemaker's Walk, E.C., but was for two centuries carried on by Troglodytes or Cave-dwellers in Derbyshire. The hero _Blythe_ is turned out from the roping community as a thriftless drunkard, emigrates, is poor and wretched, but returns _Blythe_ and gay, with a lot of money to find.... "But here," quoth the Baron, "I must pause, or the surprise will be heavily discounted, and the reader's pleasure spoilt. Thus far, no farther. '_Tolle; lege._'" So recommended the JUDICIOUS BARON DE B.-W. * * * * * Shakspeare and the A-br-y B-rdsl-y Yellow "She" Book. Divine WILLIAMS knew the kind of unwholesome woman above mentioned. In _Love's Labour's Lost_ he makes _Biron_ say-- "A whitely wanton with a velvet brow, With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes; Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed, Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard." Is not this the living picture of the woman who would, or could, but who shouldn't and oughtn't? * * * * * CHOOSING THE SPEAKER.--A suggestion was made last week that the competitors for the Speakership should draw lots. Now, if it came to "drawing lots," all in the House and out of the House, having seen "lots" of Sir FRANK BLOOKWOOD'S drawing, would of course place him first. So the drawing lots plan was abandoned. * * * * * THE FLIRTGIRL'S REPLY.[1] _A Poem of Common Sense._ Dear Sir, I've read through your delectable lines-- Though the cap doesn't fit, I will wear it; And hope (though I don't know your private designs) You regret that such verses were e'er writ! There's flirting _and_ flirting, you don't seem to know, Nor need a young woman be heartless, Who thinks that, by having _five_ strings to her bow, The four she rejects will thus smart less. Pray how can I help, if my features attract And my sympathy wins each fond lover? Alas, when they're conquered, I own 'tis the fact That their weak points I sadly discover! It may be, in spite of your captious alarm, I shall yet enjoy bliss hymeneal; If _this_ is my aim, not to jilt, where's the harm In my search for a husband ideal? [1] See page 141 * * * * * "ALAS POOR YORICK!"