So the inhabitants of the New Forest, big and little, knew EGLANTINE no more, and her mother retired to a house in Grosvenor Square, where she was waited on by a butler who looked like a bishop, and by sixteen tall footmen, whose discharges from the Life Guards she had bought at considerable expense to her son-in-law. But he was rich and happy, and his beautiful wife's photographs were in all the stationers' shop-windows. No trace of the great fight exists, except the body of NIPPARD the Hornet, which the toad, with an eye to business, stuffed, and exhibits on bank holidays and Coronation Day to all the lower members of creation at four barleycorns a head; moles, earthworms, and tadpoles half-price. He devotes part of the proceeds to the Home for Decrepit Dormice, so it costs him nothing. As to the stagbeetle, he joined a travelling circus, after being painted white with black spots. He was accidentally killed, when doing the hoop-trick, and may now be seen labelled a "Remarkable Specimen" in the Natural History Museum at South Kensington. THE END. * * * * * CANINE SAGACITY IN EXCELSIS. DEAR SIR,--I can vouch for the absolute accuracy of the following remarkable instance of canine sense and kindly feeling. My wife has a little pet dog, with a singular _penchant_ for bones, which he is apt to litter about in inconvenient places. The other morning my wife discovered, under her pillow, a half-gnawed bone, evidently placed there by _Tim_ (the dog), who is accustomed to sleep at the foot of our bed. Now this is where the extraordinary intelligence comes in. Our doctor, on the previous day, had told my wife that she must take nourishment at frequent intervals, even, if necessary, in the middle of the night; and, when the doctor said this, _Tim was present!_ The devoted animal evidently thought this an excellent opportunity for serving his beloved mistress; and consequently he sacrificed his best and most cherished bone, that she might have something to eat during the long night watches. What altruism is displayed by this selection of a hiding-place, and how it puts us poor humans to the blush! It certainly was not the dog's fault if a partially-gnawed bone was not precisely the sort of delicacy likely to tempt my wife's capricious appetite. A dog cannot be expected to know everything! All honour to this noble-minded quadruped! "_La plus noble conquéte que l'homme ait jamais faite_," says BUFFON, _"c'est"--c'est assurément notre Tim!_ Yours ever, SPECTATOR. * * * * *