As the late Sir ANDREW CLARK remarked in a luminous phrase, Nature forgives but she never forgets. The complete gardener should always aim (unlike the successful journalist) at keeping his head cool and his feet warm; and here again the noble enterprise of a newspaper has provided the exact _desideratum_ in its happily-named Corkolio detachable soles, which are absolutely invaluable when roads are dark and ways are foul, when the reeds are sere, when all the flowers have gone and the carrion-crow from the vantage of a pollard utters harsh notes of warning to all the corvine company round about.... Shod with Corkolio the happy gardener can defy these sinister visitants and ply the task of "heeling over" broccoli towards the north with perfect impunity. The ravages of stag-beetles, a notable feature of late seasons, and probably one of the indirect but none the less disastrous results of the Land Valuation policy of the PRIME MINISTER, can be kept down by leaving bowls of caviare mixed with molasses in the places which they most frequent. This compound reduces them speedily to a comatose condition, in which they can be safely exterminated with the aid of the patent hot-air pistolette (price five guineas) recently invented by a director of one of the journals already alluded to. But _tout lasse, tout casse, tout passe_; and while the kingfisher turns his sapphire back in the sun against the lemon-yellow of the willow leaves, and the smouldering russet of the oak-crowns succeeds to the crimson of the beeches and the gold of the elms, we shall do well to emulate the serene magnanimity of Nature and console ourselves with the reflection that the rural philosopher, if only assured of a sympathetic hearing in an enlightened Press and provided with a suitable equipment by the ingenuity of its directors, may contemplate the vagaries of tyrannical misgovernment with fortitude and even felicity. * * * * * A SARTORIAL TRAGEDY. ["To be fashionable one must have the waist so narrow that there is a strain upon the second button when the jacket is fastened." _Note on Men's Dress._] Garbed in the very height and pink of fashion, To-day I sallied forth to greet my fair, Nursing within my ardent heart a passion I long had had a craving to declare; Being convinced that never would there fall so Goodly a chance again, I mused how she Was good and kind and beautiful, and also Expecting me to tea. And after tea I stood before her, feeling Now was the moment when the maid would melt, My buttoned jacket helpfully revealing The graces of a figure trimly svelte, But, all unworthy to adorn a poet Who'd bought it for a fabulous amount, Just as I knelt to put the question, lo, it Popped on its own account.