Like Lady Jane in "The Mikado," the occupancy of the chair is an acquired taste, and many a one who has had to be pushed into the position has developed an abnormal love for making speeches. Three winters ago one of this description presided at a curling-club dinner; and as he took up the toasts one by one, whispers went round the company that he was the very man to represent his ward in the Town Council. And he seemed to be of the same opinion, for after he had gone through the toast-list he toasted individually every one of the company who had been omitted, and, as a last resort, when they were used up, he had the landlord of the hotel brought in, and made an eloquent speech on the way the dinner had been served, making the beef and greens appear a royal banquet, and, as a proof of the landlord's worth, mentioned that he had known him for the last thirty years. The eloquence seems to have had the desired effect, if speech-making is a _sine quâ non_ for our Council, as he is now a Councillor. It is no doubt extremely annoying to remember, after you have finished your toast, that you have forgotten the best part of it,--the joke you intended to crack, or the story you meant to tell,--and the only way to relieve your feelings in this case, and to ensure a good night's sleep, is to secure as many as you can in the cloak-room, and have an adjournment, where you can take an opportunity to let it off. The number of times the foregoing classic expressions have been used will only be exceeded by the number of times they will be used; and by making free use of them no one need despair of occupying a chair in the Council Chambers, and going down honoured and respected by all who knew him. "HOW D'YE DO?" Everybody is apt to say of every cold he has, that it is "the worst I ever had"; but I think I can truthfully say that the one from which I am now suffering beats all its predecessors. I am often told that I should be more careful of myself; but who would think of getting such a cold as I have, by simply saying to an old lady, "How d'ye do?" I had just returned from a month in the country, braced up, as I thought, for the coming winter; and now I am weaker and less fit for work than before I went away, and all through asking the simple question, which means nothing. The old Scotch manner of "Hoo are ye?" replied to by "Thank ye for speirin'; hoo are ye yersel'?" showed that our sensible forefathers knew the formality of the question, and did not consider it worth replying to. But that does not seem to be the opinion of my lady friend.