In appearance the Jack of all Journalisms is not altogether pleasing. His early struggles against irresponsive editors have left their mark upon him, for having been compelled to seek consolation for disappointment by indulging in strong drinks, he never completely loses the habit which tells, of course, both upon his dress and temper. Though success, by bringing the pleasures of the table within his reach, has increased the rotundity of his figure, it has never been able to make his collars snowy or his conversation refined. He is often found upon the Committees of new Clubs which start with a blare of journalistic trumpets upon a chequered existence, only to perish in contempt a few years afterwards. But while they last he attends them in the hope of picking up a friend who may be valuable, or some gossip which he may turn to account. As a rule, he affects the society of those who are intellectually dull in order that he may pass with them for a man of immense culture and unfathomable sagacity. Over the third long drink provided for him by an admiring associate of this sort, he will grow eloquent, and his conversation will sparkle with reminiscences of leading articles he may once have written, and anticipations of others that he proposes to write. Those who hear him on such occasions will opine that he is a man of genius, who is only prevented by the carelessness of a Gallio from becoming a statesman of the first rank. A little later he will rise still higher, and will become the almost recognised medium through which really fashionable intelligence is converted into common knowledge. In this position he will allow nothing to escape him, and if one of the highest persons in the land should invite six friends to dinner, their names will on the following morning be known to the Jack of all Journalisms. It is unnecessary to say that in the course of this career he acquires, not only notoriety, but enemies, who watch eagerly for the false step that shall bring him to the ground. In spite of his craft, he is inevitably driven from boldness into rashness, and after waging a fruitless war against rascals more accomplished than himself, he, with a courage that scarcely atones for his imprudence, enters the witness-box, and, a flood of light having been thrown upon his past career, he finds himself for two nights blazoned in enormous letters on the posters of the evening papers, and is compelled, in the end, to submit to an adverse verdict, and to retire, "it may be for years or it may be for ever," from the open practice of a profession in which he had so distinguished himself. * * * * * ACCORDING TO A RECENT PRECEDENT. [Her Majesty's Servants are invited to cheer the Queen.--_Official Invitation_.] _Soldiers_. Not us--we want more food! _Sailors_. Belay there--give us more liberty ashore! _C.S. Clerks_. Can't attend to private business during office hours--redress our grievances!