Not having read a line of his, or even knowing he was an author, I began with my usual formula, "I am _so_ interested in your work, Mr. DE TROUVAILLE" (he's French by descent). He was a little doubtful of me at first, but I think we shall become friends. He said nothing about having met me in a previous existence, did not ask if I believed in instantaneous sympathy, and omitted to inquire which was _not_ my day at home. So, you see, he is not quite like everyone else. Before the end of dinner, he had spoken, very respectfully, but not unfavourably, of my eyes, and he is going to send me his book, _Enchantment_. He belongs to the new literary school they call "Sensitivists." I wonder what it means! Good-bye, dear. Ever your loving MARJORIE. * * * * * "NULLIS MEDICABILIS HERBIS," &c.--A youthful author suffering from a violent attack of the critics. * * * * * A POLITICAL CONFERENCE. SCENE--_The interior of a classic Country Villa. Present--An aged, illustrious, but retired, Statesman and Leader, engaged now in thrumming a lyre. To him enter his youthful successor, with certain scrolls._ _Senex_ (_eagerly_). My _dear_ PRIMULA! _So_ glad you have come! The very man I wished to see. Be seated. _Juvenis_ (_depositing scrolls_). A thousand thanks. Delighted to see you looking so well, my dear GLADSTONIUS. _Senex_ (_cheerily_). Never better, thank the gods!--_and_ the ocularius! [_Twangles nimbly._ _Juvenis._ Ah! CINCINNATUS, in retirement, pleased himself with the plough; _your_ recreation was wont to be the axe or the banjo; _now_ I perceive it is the--harp! _Senex_ (_sharply_). Not at all, PRIMULA, not at all. _This_ is not a harp! [_Plays and sings._ Poscimur. Si quid vacui sub umbra Lusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annum Vivat et plures, age, dic Latinum, Barbite, carmen. * * * * * O decus Phoebi et dapibus supremi Grata testudo Jovis, O laborum Dulce lenimen mihi cunque salve Rite vocanti. _Juvenis_ (_astounded_). Charming, I'm sure! _Senex_ (_beaming_). Think so? I fear you flatter. _Juvenis._ Not at all. You may say, with your new favourite-- "Quod si me lyricis vatibus inseres, Sublimi feriam sidera vertice." _Senex_ (_modestly_). Very pretty! But I fear the ever-youthful Muses may disdain an Old Man's belated wooing. _Juvenis_ (_slily_). Even a _Grand_ Old Man's? _Senex_ (_shuddering_). Nay, no more of that, an' you love me. By the way, I wanted to consult you on a little musical matter. _Juvenis_ (_dubiously_). Ah! Concerning yon Hibernian Harp, I presume? _Senex_ (_impatiently_). Dear me, no! The Hibernian Harp be--jangled. As, indeed, it is, and unstrung into the bargain. _Juvenis_ (_relieved_). Why, have you then, like the _other_ Minstrel Boy, "torn its chords asunder"?