AT the beginning of the month tell your partners at evening parties that you have not yet decided whether you shall go to Wiesbaden, Naples, or the Tyrol for the autumn; but be careful towards the end to bespeak the humble lodging at Gravesend or Margate. Do not take a horse in the park that bears marks of collar and crupper, because it looks like one you might have hired at seven-and-sixpence for the afternoon's ride. A walk at the West-end should not now be taken except in evening dress, that people may think you are going to a dinner or evening party. A reputation for fashion and fortune may be cheaply purchased by walking under the colonnade, at half-past midnight, in the same costume. If you wish to escape from society and get yourself into condition, sponge upon some friend who has moors in Scotland for a fortnight's deerstalking. This sport consists in running with your back parallel to the horizon, and your nose within two inches of the ground, against the wind, for several hours. Do not ask where the deer are, as it will betray your inexperience; everybody is supposed to know. [Illustration] THE BOW-STREET GRANGE. BY ALFRED TENNYSON. With blackest mud, the locked-up sots Were splashed and covered, one and all And rusty nails, and callous knots, Stuck from the bench against the wall. The wooden bed felt hard and strange; Lost was the key that oped the latch; To light his pipe he had no match, Within the Bow Street station's range. He only said, "It's very dreary;" "Bail will not come," he said; He said, "I have been very beery, I would I were a-bed!" The rain fell like a sluice that even; His Clarence boots could not be dried, But had been soaked since half-past seven— To get them off in vain he tried. After the smashing of his hat, Just as the new police came by, And took him into custody, He thought, I've been a precious flat, He only said, "The cell is dreary;" "Bail cometh not," he said; He said, "I must be very beery, I wish I was in bed!"