Unless you wish to shorten your life Don't eat your peas or your cheese with a knife, Like greedy Jim, who cut his tongue And died unseasonably young. OF DISGUISED DISHES. Be alert to scrutinize Food in unfamiliar guise. Death may lurk within the pot If you eat the _papillote_. OF THE VIRTUES OF SILENCE. Jack and Tom were two pretty boys; But Jack ate his soup with a horrible noise, While Tom was a silent eater. Now Jack is a poor insurance tout, While Tom drives splendidly about In a Limousine seven-seater. OF A FORBIDDEN WORD. No one mentioned in _Debrett_ Talks about a "serviette." OF TIMELY AND UNTIMELY MIRTH. Be cheerful at lunch and at dinner, Be cheerful at five-o'clock tea; But only a social beginner At breakfast indulges in glee. OF PUNCTUALITY. Late for breakfast shows your sense, Late for luncheon no offence; Late for well-cooked well-served dinner Proves you fool as well as sinner. With much respect, I am, dear Mr. Punch, Yours devotedly, A. DAMPIER SQUIBB. * * * * * ARCHIBILL. His name was, so to speak, the fine flower of Delia's imagination, and of mine. Mrs. Mutimer-Sympson gave him to Delia as a war-time birthday-present, and he was at once acclaimed as "fascinating," which he may have been, and "lovely," which he certainly was not. His usual abiding-place was the kitchen, in comfortable proximity to the range, which he shared with one of his kind or of a lower order; but there were occasions when he honoured the dining-room with a visit. "Though he mustn't come in when we've callers," said Delia: this was in the early days, when his title and status were as yet nebulous. "But why not?" I protested. "William's all right, so long as he's reasonably clean." Delia raised her eyebrows _à la française_. "William?" "William," I repeated firmly. "What else would you call him?" "I should have thought," said Delia coldly, "that it would have been plain, even to the meanest intelligence, that he was Archibald." "On the contrary," I retorted, "no sentient being can gaze upon him without recognizing him as William." At this moment the treasure in question, who had been making contented little purring noises near the fire, was apparently startled by a falling coal, for he raised his voice in a high note of appeal. "Did a nasty man call him out of his name, then!" said Delia, snatching him up. "If you're not careful," I reminded her, "William, will ruin your new blouse." "Of course," said Delia, with an air of trying to be reasonable with an utterly unreasonable person, "there'd be no objection to his having a _second_ name." "None whatever. 'William Archibald' goes quite well." "'Archibald William' goes better. And it's going to be that, or just plain 'Archibald.'" Delia added defiantly that she wasn't going to argue, because she wanted her tea, and so did he.