Brook Green's knowledge of literature was very superficial. The editor of the _Quarterly_ made a wager with him once that he would not mention a single thing correctly out of Shakspeare. "Can't I, indeed!" he exclaimed; "why I know his works all through from beginning to end: first of all, there is a set of chessmen, then there are two dice-boxes, after that six dices, and lastly, a game of draughts. I'll just trouble you for the money, if you please." The poor fellow had always looked upon a backgammon board, which folded up like a book, as a copy of SHAKSPEARE'S WORKS, for so it was labelled; and he was quite indignant because the editor of the _Quarterly_ would not pay him the wager, which he considered he had fairly won. * * * * * AGRICULTURAL.—Turn down your flower-beds to see if they are damp, and give them a good shaking. If they want airing, let them have an extra sheet of snow, and pass the warming-pan once or twice over them. Rub up your "Sweet William" with tallow, and let your "Old Bachelor" have a warm bath the last thing at night, if you fancy he has caught cold. * * * * * DIRECTION FOR HUSBANDS.—All the wards of a latch-key should be home-wards. THE DAWN WHEN UNADORNED ADORNED THE MOST. [Illustration: "92 IN THE SHADE." ] Bright blew the wind, and plaintive rose the air, Dark was the morning, but the night was fair; A misty shade hung over great and small, Afraid to rise, yet unprepared to fall. Birds clustered shivering amid the trees; Thermometers stood still at twelve degrees; The wolf was dormant in his mountain lair; The tiger strutted forth to take the air; The elephant upon his mossy bed Reposed instinctively his monstrous head; Even the windmill paused, as if it found Not yet the time for turning itself round. The thunder through the air with caution crept; The very chamois looked before it leapt; The nightingale went forth long ere 'twas dark, The early morn was ready for the lark. The cuckoo nestled in the budding rose; The pink was dying in cornelian throes. The dahlia, with the thickening gloom upon her, Looked nightlier than the nightshade (Bella Donna) And all was silent in the distant glen, Save that tremendous hum—the hum of men! THE DUTY OFF TEA.