Three years ago an American firm issued a princely edition of _The Memoir of Horace Walpole_, written by AUSTIN DOBSON. It was too expensive for mere Britishers, and only a small number of copies found their way to this country. But the literary work was so excellent, that it was pronounced a pity it should be entombed in this costly sarcophagus. Messrs. OSGOOD, MCILVAINE, & CO. have now brought out an edition, in a single handsome volume, at a reasonable price. HORACE WALPOLE has often been written about since he laid down the pen, but never by a more sympathetic hand than Mr. DOBSON'S, nor by one bringing to the task fuller knowledge of WALPOLE'S time and contemporaries. The charm of style extends even to the notes, usually in books of this class a tantalising adjunct. Mr. DOBSON'S are so full of information, and so crisply told, that they might with advantage have been incorporated in the text. The volume contains facsimiles of HORACE WALPOLE'S handwriting, an etching of LAWRENCE'S portrait, and a reproduction of the sketch of Strawberry Hill which illustrated the catalogue of 1774. Altogether a delightful book that will, my Baronite says, take its place on a favourite shelf of the library that has grown up round the memory of one of the most interesting figures of the Eighteenth Century. THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. * * * * * WEAR AND TEAR IN AFRICA. [In the report on the proposed Mombasa Railway, it is suggested that the station-buildings should be enclosed with a strong live-thorn palisade, impenetrable to arrows.] SCENE--_A Station on the Mombasa Railway._ _New Station-Master_ (_to_ Telegraph Clerk). Did you send my message this morning, asking for a consignment of revolvers and arrow-proof shields? _Telegraph Clerk._ Yes, Sir. I can't make out why we haven't had an answer. Something may have gone wrong with the wires. I sent one of the porters to examine them. Ah, here he comes. _A Porter arrives._ _Porter._ Just as I thought, Sir. Them blessed niggers have run short of cash, and they've bin and took a mile of our best wire. _Station-Master._ Taken a mile of wire? What the deuce do you mean? _Porter._ Ah, Sir, you're new to this 'ere job. Fact is, they can all buy theirselves a wife a-piece for two yards of our wire; and as there was a raid last week, and all their wives was made off with, they've just bin and took our telegraph wire to buy theirselves a new lot. _Station-Master._ Dear me, how very provoking. I must make a report of this occurrence immediately! But what does this crowd in the distance mean? _Porter._ Why bless my heart, it's a Wednesday, and I'd quite forgotten all about it. They always attacks us of a Wednesday, but they're a good half hour earlier than last week.