_Lion-Tamer_ (_scornfully_). _Was it with Rose-water that "John Company" tamed your Indian tiger for you?_ * * * * * [Illustration: TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT IT. _Sporting Farmer_ (_who has been kind enough to give a mount to our friend 'Arry_). "NOW THEN! THEY'RE AWAY. DON'T YOU SEE THEY'RE GONE?" _'Arry_ (_who has been having a very bad time_). "EH! GONE! AND NOT COMIN' BACK? WOT A BLESSIN'!"] * * * * * YOU NEVER WROTE. (_To Another Man's Fiancée._) You never wrote a single word, though I Sent prompt congratulations in a note, You gave my well-meant greetings the go-by-- You never wrote. Do you remember when we took a boat, And slowly drifted 'neath a summer sky? Perhaps you don't. In fact, perhaps, you vote Such memories a bore. You can't deny That, politician-like, you turned your coat, In fine, you jilted me. Is not that why You never wrote? * * * * * MRS. R. heard in Scotland that MONSON was always a bit of a scapegoat. * * * * * UNDER THE ROSE. (_A Story in Scenes._) SCENE XIV.--_The Study at Hornbeam Lodge._ TIME--_Saturday night, about_ 11.30. Mr. TOOVEY _is alone_. _Mr. Toovey_ (_to himself_). Oh the inestimable blessing of having nothing on one's mind again! How providential that I found LARKINS in! He was a little unsympathetic at first, to be sure; he _would_ have it that I must have known all along what the Eldorado really was! but as soon as he saw how strongly I felt about it, he was _most_ helpful. I could _not_ have gone to that place this evening; how could I have met CORNELIA'S eye after it? As it is, I can face her without---- Surely she is later than usual from this Zenana meeting! (_Wheels are heard outside._) A cab? I do hope nothing is the matter! Why, that sounds like--like a _latchkey_! Can it be--ah!--a dispute with the cabman--it _must_ be CORNELIA! [_The front door bangs._ _A Voice_ (_in earnest remonstrance through the keyhole_). 'Ere, I say, you don't sneak off like _that_, you know! I _knowed_ you was no good the minnit I clapped eyes on you! Are you going to gimme my legal fare or not? I ain't goin' till I git it. I want another shellin' orf o' you I do! _Mr. Toov._ (_to himself_). Another shilling? Why, it's under a mile! He little knows my wife's principles if he expects---- _The Voice._ You orter be _ashimed_ o' yourself! A lydy like you to tyke a man orf his rank at this toime o' noight, all the w'y from----(_The front door is hastily unlocked again._) Thankee, mum, thankee; lor, I only want what's my doo, and the distance 'ere from---- [_The door shuts with a bang._ _Mr. Toov._ She's given him the extra shilling--she _can't_ be well! I'm afraid she's really poorly. She's gone into the drawing-room, but there are no lights there. She'll be here directly. [_He sits up expectantly._