SIR,--I recently purchased _Dodger's Digest of Dustbin Law_, and recommend it to the perusal of every householder. In the case of _The Vestry of Shoreditch_ v. _Grimes_, Lord Justice SLUSH remarks--"The Vestry complains that the Defendant's bin was improperly covered; that, in fact, it was not under coverture. To this the Defendant replies that his bin was void _ab initio_, as there was nothing in it. Then the question arises whether the Defendant's Cook was justified in tipping the Dustman into the empty bin, considering that the Legislature has distinctly forbidden tips of all kinds to Dustmen. I am of opinion that the Cook was the Defendant's agent, and that the rule of _qui facit per alium facit per se_ applies here. The Cook's proceeding was undoubtedly tortious; it was not a criminal action, though it certainly cannot be called a civil one. I agree with my brother CHIPPY that the _ratio decidendi_ must be, whether the Dustman, in coming to clean out an empty dust-bin, had a _malus animus_ or no. On all these points I hold that judgment must be for the Vestry." Your readers will see the importance of such clear _obiter dicta_. Yours, AMATEUR LAWYER. * * * * * [Illustration: PROOF POSITIVE. "I CAN'T THINK HOW THAT IMPRESSION GOT ABOUT, LADY GWENDOLINE. I SPEND HALF MY TIME IN CONTRADICTING IT. OUR NEW MEMBER IS BY NO MEANS A SMALL MAN. I'VE BEEN ON THE PLATFORM WITH HIM OFTEN, AND HE STANDS FULLY AS TALL AS I DO!"] * * * * * THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN. [Illustration] Soon on Piccadilly's pavement solitude once more will reign; Soon the Park will be a desert, for the Season's on the wane; In Belgravia's lordly mansions nearly all the blinds are down, For "the Family is gone, Sir,"--not a soul is left in Town. South to Switzerland they hurry, to explore each snowy fell; North to Scotland's moors and forests, where the grouse and red-deer dwell; Carlsbad, Homburg, Trouville, Norway, soon their jaded eyes will view; For Society is speeding "to fresh woods and pastures new." Everyone is gone or going,--everyone, that is, one knows,-- And the "Great Elections'" Season fast is drawing to its close. Never surely was a poorer; such dull dinners, so few balls, Such an Epsom, such an Ascot, or so many empty stalls. Gone the Season, with its dances, with its concerts and its _fetes_, With its weddings and divorces, with its dinners and debates; Gone are all its vapid pleasures, all its easy charities, Gone its _causes celebres_ and scandals, gone its tears and tragedies. Weary legislators envy still more weary _chaperons_;-- Much they know the truth who deem them of Society the drones;-- All the maidens are _ennuyees_, vow they "can't do anymore," All the gilded youth are yawning--everything's a horrid bore.