In vulgar phrase, "Your mother knows You're _out_," at length. Such triumphs too dear Are sometimes purchased. I suppose She fidgets you, dear. "The Countess!--bow, child, to the Earl!-- Those terrible HYDE PARKES! Their posies Look quite too vulgar; cut them, girl. How red your nose is! "Quick! take the powder-puff, my love-- Not on your bouquet or your hair now!-- Don't bungle so; you'll drop that glove-- Please take more care now. "You stoop like any _bourgeoise_ chit. Who'd think you educated highly? No, not so stiff. Do blush a bit, And simper shyly." Ah! Maiden fair of cloudless air. This kind of thing is hardly pleasant. Indeed, I'm thankful not to wear Thy shoes at present! * * * * * "THE FLOWERS THAT BLOOM, TRA-LA!" [Illustration] In the _Times_ for March 12th appeared a notice of The Spring Flower Show, wherein it was stated that a silver medal was awarded to Mr. BARR for his "_pretty collections, which included the spurius Henry Irving_." There's an "o" omitted, of course, but it's the same word. Who is the "spurious HENRY IRVING"? Where does this flower of the Drama flourish, away from the Lyceum Theatre? What and where does HENRICUS SPURIUS play? Does he appear in the Hare-Bells? Is he to bloom in Covent Garden? or is it, after all, only a plant? There is only one HENRICUS IRVINGUS, and he's not "_spurius_." * * * * * QUEER QUERIES. HEALTH.--I am not an invalid, but I suffer from giddiness, a feeling of suffocation, with excruciating pains, and apparent cessation of the heart's action. I am also so nervous, that, whenever the door is opened, I begin to scream loudly. My mental feebleness finds vent in puns that have alienated my oldest friends. Could some Correspondent explain these symptoms? I do not believe in Doctors, but am taking "Soft-sawder's Emulgent Balsam of Aconitine." It does not seem to have done me much good yet, but that is probably due to my not having tried it long enough.--RATHER ANXIOUS. * * * * * A DANCING-ON-NOTHING GIRL.--Talk of _The Dancing Girl_ at the Haymarket--of course people _will_ talk--why she's nothing to the girls who dance to M. JACOBI's inimitable ballet-music at the Alhambra. Here they have a magic show, which "puzzles the Quaker;" and I don't mind admitting that I was the quaker when I saw a fair and comely young lady up in the air standing still and dancing on nothing at all! Certainly "Aerolithe" is as good as any of her marvellous predecessors, the Vanishing Girl included. As a conjuror, Mr. CARL HERTZ, who I take to be the inventor of the above illusion, is also uncommonly neat, and this "Ten o'Clock," to all lovers of the marvellous, can be recommended by THE FACULTY FOR AMUSEMENT. * * * * * [Illustration: RANDOM ALADDIN.