e in weight, and it is rumoured that Mr. Taft may once again follow
in his footsteps.

***

A vulgar person with no respect for wealth has suggested that the Royal
Automobile Club shall change its name to the Hotel Nouveau Ritz.

***

[Illustration: "I say, I've a bone to pick with you."

"Pardon me, Sir, that's quite impossible, for I'm a _strict
vegetarian_."]

***

Another Mysterious Disappearance.

From a catalogue:--

"20 Dozens Bottles Excellent Old Tawny Port, sold without
reserve by the Port of London Authority to pay for charges, the
owner having been lost sight of, and bottled by us last year."

We hope that, after this callous confession, Scotland Yard will now take
action.

***

Musical Candour.

"The singing of the Bradshaw choirs broke up a happy
evening."--_Local Paper._

***

We understand that the famous Presidential biography, _From Log-Cabin to
White House_, is to be followed by another, entitled, _From White House
to Semi-attached Villa_.

***

"'Reflection,' a picture of an elderly gentleman lost in thought
after a lonely dinner, not only suggests a story, but how
effective Mr. Jack is with interiors."

_Cork Constitution._

In this picture, however, the gentleman's interior is wisely left to the
imagination.

* * * * *

THE UNHAPPY MEAN.

(_How the Budget strikes a Brain-Worker._)

Would I were poor (but not too poor),
A working plumber, say, by trade,
One of the class for whom the lure
Of Liberal Chancellors is laid;
For then no single sou from my revenue
Should go to swell the Treasury's bin,
Save indirectly through my breakfast-menu,
My pipe, my beer, my gin.

Would I were rich (O passing rich),
One of the idlers, softly bred,
From whom the hands of David itch
To pluck their plumage, quick or dead;
For then, a super-man, I'd scorn to grudge it--
This super-tax on my estate,
But like a bird contribute to his Budget
The paltry two-and-eight.

Alas, not being this nor that,
But just a middling type of man,
Neither a bloated plutocrat
Nor yet a pampered artisan,
I am not spared, nay, I am hardest smitten,
Although 'tis held (and I agree)
That half the backbone of these Isles of Britain
Is made of stuff like me.

O brothers, ye who follow Art,
Shunning the crowds that