"--gently this evening the ripples break On the pebbles beneath the trees, With a music as low as the full leaves make, When they stir in some soft sea-breeze." One of my "Co." says he always reads anything that comes in his way bearing the trade-mark BLACKWOOD. His faith has been justified on carrying off with him on a quiet holiday, _His Cousin Adair_, by GORDON ROY. The book has all the requisites of a good novel, including the perhaps rarest one of literary style. _Cousin Adair_ is well worth knowing, and her character is skilfully portrayed. As a foil against this high-minded, pure-souled unselfish girl, there are sketched in two or three of the sort of people, men and women, more frequently met with in this wicked world. But _Cousin Adair_ is good enough to leaven the lump. GORDON ROY is evidently a _nom de plume_ that might belong to man or woman. My "Co." is inclined to think, from certain subtle touches, that he has been entertained through three volumes by a lady. BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & Co. [Illustration: A Puff to swell the Sale.] * * * * * WHAT'S IN A TITLE? (_TO THE AUTHOR OF "VIOLET MOSES."_) With a title so lucky (though luck's all my eye), Your book's sure of readers I'll wager my head. For not even a Critic will dare to reply, When he's asked to review it, "I'll take it as re(a)d." * * * * * FROM THE LATEST COLWELL-HATCHNEY EXAMINATION PAPER IN FOREIGN LANGUAGES FOR THE CAKE SCHOLARSHIP.--_Question_. What is the feminine of _Beau temps? Answer_ (_immediately given_). Belle-Wether. * * * * * THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. NO. VIII. SCENE--_A Bridge over the Pegnitz, at Nuremberg. Time, afternoon. The shadows of the old gabled and balconied houses are thrown sharply on the reddish-yellow water. Above the steep speckled roofs, the spires of St. Lorenz glitter against the blue sky. CULCHARD is leaning listlessly upon the parapet of the bridge_. _Culchard_ (_to himself_). How mediæval it all is, and how infinitely restful! (_He yawns._) What a blessed relief to be without that fellow PODBURY! He's very careful to keep out of my way--I've scarcely seen him since I've been here. He must find it dreadfully dull. (_He sighs._) I ought to find material for a colour-sonnet here, with these subdued grey tones, those dull coppery-greens, and the glowing reds of the conical caps of those towers. I _ought_--but I don't. I fancy that half-engagement to MAUD TROTTER must have, scared away the Muse. I wonder if PODBURY has really gone yet? (_Here a thump on the back disposes of any doubt as to this._) Er--so you're still at Nuremberg? [Awkwardly. [Illustration: "Er--I have brought you the philosophical work I mentioned."] _Podbury_ (_cheerfully_). Rather! Regular ripping old place this--suits me down to the ground. And how are _you_ getting on?