RATHER VAGUE.--Sir EDWARD BRADFORD, Commissioner of Police, informs the Public, through a paragraph in the _Times_, about a meeting at the Marylebone Vestry, that whenever in the Metropolis a street is found to be dangerously slippery, some one (probably a policeman) is to telegraph to the "local authority" (who? what? which? where?) and inform him, her, them (whatever represents the aforesaid "local authority"), of the fact. Well, and what then? Who's to do what, and when is it to be done? And what is the penalty for not doing whatever it is? * * * * * SHORTLY TO APPEAR.--_Amiable Almonds_, by the Authoress of _Cross Currents_. To be followed by _Rum Raisins, Delightful Dates, and Polly Peach_. Also, _Dolt Care What Apples to Me!_ being the Story of "A Mal wil a Cold id is Ed." * * * * * BIGOTED.--An Anti-Ritualistic old Lady objected to paying her water-rate, when she was informed that she would be patronising "a High Service." * * * * * MEMORANDUM FOR MINOR POETS.--It is an elegant thing to write ballades and _rondeaux_, but it is tyrannous to read them to your visitors. * * * * * THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. No. XV. SCENE--_The Table d Hôte at Lugano:_ CULCHARD _has not yet caught_ Miss PRENDERGAST'S _eye._ _Culchard_ (_to_ Mr. BELLERBY). Have you--ah--been up Monte Generoso yet? _Mr. B._ No. (_After reflecting_) No, I haven't. But I was greatly struck by its remarkably bold outline from below. Indeed, I dashed off a rough sketch of it on the back of one of my visiting cards. I ought to have it somewhere about me now. (_Searching himself._) Ah, I thought so! (_Handing a vague little scrawl to_ CULCHARD, _who examines it with the deepest interest._) I knock off quite a number of these while I'm abroad like this. Send 'em in letters to relatives at home--gives them a notion of the place. They are--ar--kind enough to value them. (CULCHARD _makes a complimentary mumble._) Yes, I'm a very rapid sketcher. Put me with regular artists, and give us half an hour, and I--ar--venture to say I should be on terms with them. Make it _three_ hours, and--well, I daresay I shouldn't be in it. _Podbury_ (_who has dropped into the chair next to_ Miss PRENDERGAST _and her brother_). BOB, old chap, I'll come in the middle, if you don't mind. I say, this _is_ ripping--no idea of coming across you so soon as this. (_Lowering his voice, to_ Miss P.) Still pegging away at my "penance," you see! _Miss Prend._ The pleasure is more than mutual; but do I understand that Mr. ----? So _tiresome_, I left my glasses up in my room! [_She peers up and down the line of faces on her own side of the table._ _Miss T._ (_to Culch._) I want you should notice that girl. I think she looks just as nice as she can be, don't you?