_Some Places of Note in England_ (DOWDESWELLS) have been deftly noted by a notable artist, namely, BIRKET FOSTER. From the "places of note," he has evolved some of the most delicate of harmonies. Whether he gives us a Canterbury _cantata_, a Richmond _rondo_, a Stratford symphony, a Lambeth _lied_, or a Tilbury _toccata_ we are equally delighted with his choice of _motivo_ and his brilliancy of execution. In this volume we have five-and-twenty pictures, admirably reproduced in the highest style of lithography. Mr. BIRKET FOSTER has been before the public for many years--he appeared, if we mistake not, in the early numbers of the _Illustrated News_: his work has been constant, and his pictures countless ever since, and yet, in the present volume, we find him better than ever. _Sporting Celebrities._ The first number of this new monthly contains two excellent portraits by M. WALERY. One is of the Duke of BEAUFORT, the other of Mr. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL. They are accompanied by crisp well-written biographical notices. The two portraits are well worth the price charged for the Magazine. A couple of good photographs for a shilling, cannot be considered dear. In addition to this, there are twenty pages of letterpress--so altogether it is a splendid shillingsworth. BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO. * * * * * ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. INSANITARY DUST-BINS.--That your servants should have thrown half a lobster, several potted meat-tins, an uneatable rabbit-pie, and all the vegetable refuse of your household, into your dust-bin, and that it should not have been "attended to" for upwards of two months, is quite sufficient to account for the intolerable odour of which you and all your neighbours on that side of the street have had reason to complain; but, as you seem to think nothing but an epidemic fever, caused by the nuisance, will rouse the Authorities, you might, by throwing in a pound or two of phosphate of lime, the same quantity of copper shavings, and a gallon or so of nitric acid, as you suggest, create such an intolerable stench, that something would have to be done, and that without delay, to preserve your entire neighbourhood from a visitation of the plague. Try it, by all means. In the meantime have a notice, as you propose, put in your kitchen window, to the effect that a champagne luncheon, and half-a-crown a head, will be provided for the dustmen if they will only call. Failing this, you might take the steps you seriously contemplate, with a view to marrying into the dust-contractor's family. This, perhaps, coupled with a series of urgent letters to the _Times_, would be your wisest course. But, in the present unsatisfactory state of the law, it is difficult to know how to advise you for the best. Your idea, if the worst comes to the worst, and you cannot get the Vestry to attend to it, of blowing up your dust-bin yourself with gunpowder, you might