In conjunction with _The Perfect Little Lady_, which will discuss "The Highest Type of Man," the editor of _The Brain Pan_ will throw open his columns to all those with views on "The Most Attractive Girl." For the start he has secured the services of "Virile Englishman," who will put aside her knitting to take up the pen in obedience to his commands. _The Perfect Little Lady_'s first letter will be contributed by "Sweet Seventeen," who has studied her subject by diligent attendance at all the best boxing matches of the current year. * * * * * [Illustration: _Anglo-Indian Child._ "WHAT'S THIS, DADDY?" _Father._ "THAT'S LIVER, MY DEAR." _Child._ "LIVER! WHOSE LIVER?" _Father._ "SHEEP'S LIVER." _Child._ "AH! I WONDER WHAT GAVE _IT_ LIVER!"] * * * * * "'I do not see why, I do not see why,' he repeated, rising up and down."--_The Times._ We do not see how. * * * * * A New Way to Deal with the Cold. "Originally fitted with luxurious saloons and cabins for tourists to Greenland and Spitzbergen, the Endurance is a very different ship to-day. Her cabins are being turned into store-rooms and officers and crew will sleep in odd corners, for two years' provisions have to be curried."--_Evening News._ * * * * * "The music of Borodin, the composer of 'Prince Igor,' is little known in England, apart from the Polovtsienne Dances which, owing to their wind and barbaric character, have been so popular a feature of the performances of the Russian Ballet."--_Musical Opinion._ Why drag in the wind? The strings were just as good as the wind when we were there. * * * * * [Illustration: THE GIRL OF THE PERIOD. _New Maid._ "VOILÀ, MA'M'SELLE." _Débutante._ "HEAVENS, MY GOOD GIRL, THAT WON'T DO. HERE, GIVE ME THE THINGS. WHY, HALF-WAY ACROSS THE ROOM NO ONE WOULD SEE I WAS MADE UP AT ALL!"] * * * * * FACT AND FABLE. For miles I'd tramped by down and hill; With eve I found the happy ending; All in the sunset, golden chill, The collie met me, grave, befriending. I saw the roof-tree down the vale, Brave fields of harvest spread thereunder; The collie waved a feathery tail And led me to the House of Wonder. Houses, like people, so I've thought, Bear character upon their faces, Born of their company and wrought Upon by inward gifts and graces: Here, through the harvest's gold array And evening's mellow _far niente_, Looked kindliness and work-a-day, And happy hours and peace and plenty.