"GOODE GOODS."--"The Goode Collection" sold at Christie's Tuesday and Thursday last. Goode enough, of course; but because it was the Goode Collection it evidently could not have been the Best. * * * * * RECIPROCITY. SCENE--_A London Dinner Party._ Mr. LAMBERT _and_ Mrs. CRUMPINGTON (_chance partners_). _Mr. Lambert_ (_feeling his way_). Been to the Opera often this season, Mrs. CRUMPINGTON? _Mrs. Crumpington._ Oh, very often. I am so devoted to music, you know, that I go whenever I can. And, talking of music, have you heard that new pianist, Herr--what _is_ his name?--oh yes, Herr WIDOWSKI? He's too delicious for words! _Mr. L._ No; I can't say that I go to concerts much. You should talk to my daughter ETHEL--she's devoted to music, and they tell me that she's got a really fine voice. I'm sure she practises enough. _Mrs. C._ Indeed? Well, I've no voice, I'm sorry to say; but I play the piano a little--only a _very_ little, you know. _Mr. L._ Wonderful what a lot of people _do_ play in these days--(_hastily_)--not like _you_, of course; but one hears pianos and fiddles going in every house, and most of them are simply instruments of torture. _Mrs. C._ (_smiling_). Rather a rash remark--isn't it? You've never heard me play, you see! (Mr. L. _endeavours to protest_.) Oh, but I assure you I quite agree with you. For instance, my next-door neighbours are always making the most awful noises--playing and singing morning, noon, and night. The wall is very thin, and I am nearly driven crazy. _Mr. L._ (_warmly_). My dear Madam, I can sympathise with you entirely. I've often thought that Parliament ought to pass a Bill for enforcing a close-time in domestic music. Of course it only matters to me in the evening, but we're troubled exactly in the same way as yourself. And my poor ETHEL finds her singing constantly interrupted by the disgusting row made by our next-door neighbour. I suppose he must take a pleasure in annoying us--anyhow he's jammed his wretched piano right up against our drawing-room wall, and bangs and thumps on it for about six hours a day. Of course it would be bad enough if the fellow played well; but you never heard such ghastly noises as he makes! _Mrs. C._ How sorry I am for your poor daughter! Yes; people complain in the papers and grumble about street-bands and piano-organs; but at least one can send them away--which, unfortunately, one can't do in the case of next-door neighbours! However, I suppose I ought to be grateful that the people on the other side don't play at all. _Mr. L._ Ah! I live in a corner-house. But I think a little opposition noise would almost be a relief--a kind of homeopathic cure, you know.