What _wull_ ye say to this disloyal, slanderous, sacrilegious ANDY? He hints that Golf is a mere modish fashion--even a _fin de siècle_ fad!!! How many perfervid and patriotic Scots will "Condemn his soul to eternal perdition For his theory of the--National Game?" He says "you hit a ball and walk after it, and manoeuvre it into a hole." Eugh! Such icy analysis would make Billiards a bore, and resolve "Knuckle-down" into nonsense! "It is not (_Golf_ is not!) a proceeding (_proceeding, quotha!_) of which youths and young men should grow enamoured." As though, forsooth, Golf were a sort of elderly Siren luring limp and languorous youths into illegitimate courses; a _passée_ Delilah, whose enervating fascinations sapped the virile vigour that might be dedicated to "that noblest of sports," Cricket, or even that "much better game," Lawn Tennis!!! Surely the devotees of the Golf-cultus, the lovers of the Links, will be down like a "driver" upon Dr. WILSON. Oh, ANDY, ANDY, between you and your "brither Scots" there is henceforth "a great Golf fixed"! * * * * * A CRICKET PARADOX. Though true without questioning, yet all the same, It's a trifle perplexing to know what it means That the counties that hate most to lose in a game Would be pleased very much at your giving them Beans * * * * * WIGS ON THE (SEA) GREEN!--Some Frenchman (we are told by _The Gentlewoman_) has done Ladies a good turn by inventing a Bathing Wig, which keeps the hair dry without making the fair bather look "a fright." Hooray! SABRINA herself might shout for such an invention, which even the Nereids need not despise. DIZZY once sarcastically referred to certain "Bathing W(h)igs," but they were of another sort. Not even the most adventurous Tory could "steal the clothes" of our latter day "Bathing Wigs." * * * * * [Illustration: "FINE SALMON YOU'VE GOT THERE, POULTER!"--"SIXTY-FIVE POUNDS, MY LORD! SHALL I SEND IT HOME TO YOUR LORDSHIP?"--"WELL--ER--LOOK HERE! JUST CUT ME HALF A POUND OUT OF THE MIDDLE THERE, AND GIVE IT ME IN A PIECE OF PAPER!"] * * * * * THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. NO. VII. SCENE--_A Second-Class Compartment on the line between Wurzburg and Nuremberg. PODBURY has been dull and depressed all day, not having recovered from the parting with Miss TROTTER. CULCHARD, on the contrary, is almost ostentatiously cheerful. PODBURY is intensely anxious to find out how far his spirits are genuine, but--partly from shyness, and partly because some of their fellow travellers have been English--he has hesitated to introduce the subject. At last, however, they are alone, and he is determined to have it out on the very first opportunity._ [Illustration: "Puts me in mind o' the best part o' Box 'Ill."]