"(STAN)-HOPE TOLD A FLATTERING TALE."

_Mr. Punch_ (_to War Secretary_). "VERY WELL ON ACCOUNT; BUT WHEN
IS HE TO HAVE HIS REWARD IN FULL, LIKE HIS BROTHERS OF THE COMBATANT
BRANCH?"]

In the _Fortnightly_, besides an article on the prevailing epidemic,
by Sir MORRELL MACKENZIE, M.D., which finishes with much the sort
of general advice that was given by _Mr. Justice Starleigh_ to _Sam
Weller_, to the effect that "You had better be careful, Sir," whoever
you are, who read this short, but generally interesting paper. There
is an anonymous paper on an imaginary election at the Royal Academy,
noticeable only for an excellent imitation of Mr. GEORGE MEREDITH'S
style. The Novelist is supposed to look in casually, and, finding an
election imminent, he offers sage words of counsel, and then begs to
be allowed to "float out of their orbit by a bowshot." It seems to me
that the paper was written for the sake of this one short paragraph,
which, as a close parody, is inimitable. _A Modern Idyll_, by the
Editor, Mr. FRANK HARRIS, is, as far as this deponent is concerned,
like the Rule of Three in the ancient Nursery Rhyme, for it "bothers
me," and, though written with considerable dramatic power, yet it
seems rather the foundation for a novel which the Author felt either
disinclined to continue, or unable to finish. ALTER HEGO (_in the
Office of the B. de B.-W._)

* * * * *

THE TYRANTS OF THE STRAND!

(_FRAGMENT FROM A ROMANCE, FOUNDED UPON A MODERN STRIKE._)

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled, the rain pelted, and
the poor travellers were drenched to the skin. They shaded their eyes,
and peered forth into the blackness to see if succour was at hand.
Their strength was exhausted, and they felt they could go no further.
Oh! what would they not have given to be once more on board the tight
little craft they had abandoned! But no! it was not to be. They must
seek for help from another quarter! Suddenly there emerged from the
darkness a strange-looking structure, that with its lights seemed bent
upon running them down. They signalled for help, and the grotesque
vessel was hove to.

"What do you want?" asked a gruff voice, to their great delight, in
English. "What are you a haling us for?"

"We are shipwrecked travellers," explained the spokesman of the party;
"and we ask for conveyance to a place of safety."

"A place of safety--sounds like a cab-stand," muttered the other.
"Well