I was at one the other night and heard a man say: “That corner stack is alight now quite nicely.” People’s sympathies seem generally to be with the fire so long as no one is in danger of being burned. Adam and Eve A little boy and a little girl were looking at a picture of Adam and Eve. “Which is Adam and which is Eve?” said one. “I do not know,” said the other, “but I could tell if they had their clothes on.” Does Mamma Know? A father was telling his eldest daughter, aged about six, that she had a little sister, and was explaining to her how nice it all was. The child said it was delightful and added: “Does Mamma know? Let’s go and tell her.” Mr. Darwin in the Zoological Gardens Frank Darwin told me his father was once standing near the hippopotamus cage when a little boy and girl, aged four and five, came up. The hippopotamus shut his eyes for a minute. “That bird’s dead,” said the little girl; “come along.” Terbourg Gogin told me that Berg, an impulsive Swede whom he had known in Laurens’s studio in Paris and who painted very well, came to London and was taken by an artist friend [Henry Scott Tuke, A.R.A.] to the National Gallery where he became very enthusiastic about the Terbourgs. They then went for a walk and, in Kensington Gore, near one of the entrances to Hyde Park or Kensington Gardens, there was an old Irish apple-woman sitting with her feet in a basket, smoking a pipe and selling oranges. “Arranges two a penny, sorr,” said the old woman in a general way. And Berg, turning to her and throwing out his hands appealingly, said: “O, madame, avez-vous vu les Terbourgs? Allez voir les Terbourgs.” He felt that such a big note had been left out of the life of any one who had not seen them. At Doctors’ Commons A woman once stopped me at the entrance to Doctors’ Commons and said: “If you please, sir, can you tell me—is this the place that I came to before?” Not knowing where she had been before I could not tell her. The Sack of Khartoum As I was getting out of a ’bus the conductor said to me in a confidential tone: “I say, what does that mean? ‘Sack of Khartoum’? What does ‘Sack of Khartoum’ mean?” “It means,” said I, “that they’ve taken Khartoum and played hell with it all round.” He understood that and thanked me, whereon we parted. Missolonghi Ballard [a fellow art-student with Butler at Heatherley’s] told me that an old governess, some twenty years since, was teaching some girls modern geography. One of them did not know the name Missolonghi. The old lady wrung her hands: “Why, me dear,” she exclaimed, “when I was your age I could never hear the name mentioned without bursting into tears.” I should perhaps add that Byron died there. Memnon