TIC FRUIT.

An agreeable seasonal feature is the widening of the horizon to the
fruit lover. All sorts of delightful foreign species and sub-species may
now be bad for cash or (if one is lucky) credit--such as bomboudiac,
angelica, piperazine, zakuska, shalloofs and pampooties. A delicious
pampootie fool can be made quite cheaply as follows: 3 lb. of
pampooties, 8 oz. of angelica paregoric, 1 imperial pint of sloe gin, 1
gill of ammoniated quinine, 9 oz. of rock salt. Boil the sloe gin and
quinine to a frazzle, put in the pampooties, cut in thin slices, and
take out an insurance policy.

PLOVERS' EGGS.

These eggs by a strange freak of nature are more easily obtainable in
April and May than in any other month. In fact in December they are
worth their weight in gold, and are then to be found on the tables only
of Mr. MALLABY-DEELEY, Mr. ROCKEFELLER, Mr. HARRY LAUDER and Mr. JOHN
BURNS. To-day they are anything from ninepence to a shilling each, and
in a fortnight's time they will be sixpence each, with the added
pleasure to the consumer of now and then finding a young plover inside.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "BUY A PUZZLE, SIR?"]

* * * * *

"On Wednesday of last week an express train dashed into a flock of
sheep being driven over a level crossing at Northallerton to-day."

_Meat Trades' Journal._

Only an express train could arrive a week early; the other ones are
always late.

* * * * *

From a calendar:--

"April 6th. Dividends due. 'We needs must love the highest when we
see it.'"

Unfortunately we don't often see it.

* * * * *

NOCTURNE.

(_A Golf-match has recently been played at Bushey by night._)

Not in the noontide's horrid glare
When nervousness and lunch combined
And James's shoes and well-oiled hair
Perturb me, but when Cynthia fair
In heaven is shrined,
I show my perfect form, and play
Big brassie-shots like EDWARD RAY.
By night I am _plus_ four. By day----
Well, never mind.

With elfin stance I stride the tee
And deal my orb an amorous slap
In the mid-moonshine's mystery,
And Puck preserves the stroke for me
From foul mishap;
Pan saves me from the casual pot
And Dryad nymphs upbear my shot
Outstripping James's (James has got
No soul, poor chap).

The little pi