Still if he goes to the Lords, Whatever, his style and title, For the part he has played in his country's aid 'Twill be but a poor requital; For he never once lost his nerve When the outlook was most alarming, And always remained, with shield unstained, Prince ARTHUR, the good Prince Charming. * * * * * "Mrs. Hawke would be glad to employ a Wren for domestic work." _Advt. in Daily Paper_. Will she have to "live in"? * * * * * "If it be true, as SHELLEY said, that 'a thing of beauty is a joy for ever,' the good people of Roydon are to be congratulated on the new bridge over the River Stort." _Local Paper_. But, supposing KEATS, for instance, said it, will that make any difference? * * * * * [Illustration: _Enlightened Minister_. "I CANNA UNDERSTAND YOUR OBJECTION TO DANCING, MR. MCTAVISH. WE HAVE BIBLICAL AUTHORITY FOR IT. DAVID HIMSELF DANCED." _Elder_. "AY, BUT NO WI' A PAIRTNER."] * * * * * PRISCILLA FAILS TO QUALIFY. "So it runned out of its little grassy place and went all round the garden," said Priscilla, emerging suddenly in pink from under the table. "What are you playing at now, Priscilla?" I inquired. "I'm a little pussy-cat." "And what is this?" I asked, pointing to the waste-paper basket which she had planted beside my chair. "It's the pussy-cat's basket of milk. It's to drink when she's firsty," she explained. I sighed. It did not appear to me that the child's education was proceeding upon proper lines. I had been reading portions of the diary of Miss OPAL WHITELEY, written when she was seven years old, a work which has just lifted for America the Child-authoress Cup. I had hoped to find in Priscilla some faint signs that the laurels lost by Miss DAISY ASHFORD might be wrested back. The latest feature in nursery autobiography, so far as I could gather, was to have a profound objective sympathy with vegetables and a faculty for naming domestic animals after the principal figures in classical mythology. If you have these gifts you get published by _The Atlantic Monthly_, with a preface by Viscount GREY. But I doubted whether Priscilla had them. I thought I would try. "Priscilla," I said, "be a little girl again and tell me what flower you like best." "Woses." "What do the roses say to each other when you aren't there?" "Oh, they don't _say_ anyfing," she said with great contempt. This was bad. "Priscilla," I continued, "what do you call the dog next-door?" "Bill," she said; "but it's runned away." "There you are!" I exclaimed, turning to the child's mamma. "Bill, indeed! If she were being properly educated she would be calling it Jupiter Agamemnon Wilcox by now. Does she ever speak to you at all of the star-gleams amongst the cabbage-leaves?"