I confess this simple letter touched an answering chord in my heart. I scarcely knew how to answer it. At last a brilliant thought struck me. I would show it to my tame Hussar-Captain, SHABRACK. That gallant son of Mars is not only a good sportsman, but he has, in common with many of his brother officers, the reputation of being a dashing, but discriminating worshipper at the shrine of beauty. At military and hunt balls the Captain is a stalwart performer, a despiser of mere programme engagements, and an invincible cutter-out of timid youths who venture to put forward their claims to a dance that the Captain has mentally reserved for himself. The mystery is how he has escaped scathless into what his friends now consider to be assured bachelor-hood. Most of his contemporaries, roystering, healthy, and seemingly flinty-hearted fellows, all of them, have long since gone down, one after another, before some soft and smiling little being, and are now trying to fit their incomes to the keep of perambulators, as well as of dog-carts. But SHABRACK has escaped. I found him at his Club, and showed him the letter, requesting him at the same time to tell me what he thought of it. I think he was flattered by my appeal, for he insisted on my immediate acceptance of a cigar six inches long, and proposed to me a tempting list of varied drinks. The Captain read the letter through twice carefully, and thus took up his parable:-- "Look here, my son, don't you be put off by what the little woman says. She don't mean half of it. Get the hostess to strike!"--here he laughed loudly--"now that's a real good 'un. Why, they haven't got it in them. Fact is, they can't stand one another's company. She says as much, don't she? 'We get so dull when we are all together.' Well, that scarcely looks like goin' off on the strike together, does it? Don't you be alarmed, old quill-driver, they'll never run a strike of that kind for more than a day. They'll all come troopin' back, beggin' to be forgiven, and all that, and, by gum, we shall have to take 'em back too, just as we're all congratulatin' ourselves that we shan't have to go to any more blessed pic-nics. That's a woman's idea of enjoyin' herself in the country--nothin' but one round of pic-nics. I give you my word, when I was stayin' with old FRED DERRIMAN, in Perthshire, they reg'larly mapped out the whole place for pic-nics, and I'm dashed if they didn't spoil our best day's drivin by pic-nickin' in, 'oh, such a sweet place.' Truth is, they can't get along without us, my son, only they won't admit it, bless 'em! And, after all, we're better off when they're in the house, I'm bound to confess; so I don't mind lettin' 'em have a pic-nic or two, just to keep 'em sweet. Them's my sentiments, old cock, and you're welcome to them." I thanked the Captain for his courtesy, and withdrew. But if the whole thing is merely a matter of pic-nics, it is far simpler than I imagined. * * * * *