all her relatives do in the house of one of the good neighbours during the protracted absence of the good neighbour on the Continent? They would continue to smoke in the drawing-room. * * * * * "HONOURS EASY." Mr. TRELOAR wrote to the _Times_ the other day _à propos_ of Mr. WILLIAMSON'S peerage. Messrs. TRELOAR and WILLIAMSON are in the same business, _i.e._ the linoleum trade, and Mr. TRELOAR suggested that "_Lord LINOLEUM would not be a bad title_." Quite agree with him. Let persons take titles from some specialty of their trade or calling. Suppose peerages granted to Chiropedist Marquis of CUTACORN. Soda-water Manufacturer Lord SODA AND BANG. Tailor Viscount VEST. Butcher (_Irish title_) Baron O'BEEF. Jeweller Duke of DIAMONDS. Grocer Lord SUGAR AND SANDS. Draper Earl of SUMMERGOODS AND WINTERSALES. Ditto Lord REMNANTS OF UNDERWEAR. Bootmaker (_with French polish_) Marquis DE SHOES ET AUTRES. Numerous variations will occur to readers. They can be forwarded to our office as probably useful when the next "honours easy" are dealt out. * * * * * "OH, THE IRONY OF IT!"--Last week, whilst reports of Tory successes in the boroughs daily reached London, the leading Liberal paper, regardless of expense, had the walls covered with large placards announcing that "the _Daily News_ has the best election intelligence." "If this is the best," said Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT, observing one of the placards on his way back from Derby, "I shouldn't like to know the worst." * * * * * [Illustration: THE SPILL! JACK AND JILL WENT UP THE HILL TO FETCH A PAIL OF WATER, JACK FELL DOWN AND BROKE HIS CROWN, AND JILL CAME TUMBLING AFTER.] * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. _The Variety Stage_, by CHARLES DOUGLAS STUART and A. J. PARK (FISHER UNWIN), is a history of the Music-halls from the earliest period to the present time. And a very interesting history it is, admirably told withal. One comes upon names familiar in boyhood, and is a little shocked to find that the Great VANCE was really named ALFRED PECK STEVENS. The pages glow with pleasant peeps of London at midnight, as _Pendennis_ saw it, and as, once at least, it was looked upon by _Colonel Newcome_. It is sad to find how many of the old favourites of the music-hall fall upon evil times, and even die in the workhouse. SAM COLLINS was more fortunate. He was sumptuously buried in Kensal Green, where a marble pedestal carries his portrait and his epitaph. This last is notable as containing what, as far as my Baronite knows, is the most audacious rhyme in the English language. As it was admitted to consecrated ground, it may perhaps be quoted here. "A loving husband," so it runs--