nd even relegated them to Bumbledom, but their lordships, to
whom the case was appealed, literally strangled the said annaconda
before she began to devour, and Suburbopolis, along with other five
thriving burghs, were saved from municipal death, and still retain their
Provosts. Provost Goodfellow was a most genial soul, and particularly
fond of Association Football.

He could talk about dribbling, passing, and backing-up, as if to the
manner born. The only thing, in fact, which he did not fully understand
was the "off-side rule," and many of greater pretentions were as far at
sea regarding that said rule as the worthy Provost. He was the life and
soul of Charity Cup Ties, and never failed to turn out to patronise
them. Even the charming young ladies of the family (for you must know
his honour had three handsome daughters) knew a good deal about the
rules, and had several excited discussions with their brother Archie
(who was a member of the Camphill), and Bob Lambert (of the
Black-and-Whites), as to the respective merits of sundry clubs.

These young ladies, too, had a long string of admirers, and no family
acquaintance was more eagerly sought after than that of the Goodfellows.
Suburbopolis, however, was by no means devoid of a galaxy of feminine
beauty and well-developed male forms, who might have been seen of an
evening leaving the handsome villas and terraces around the Park (for
which the inhabitants were not taxed).

There were, of course, the families of Colonel Black (an old warrior,
who had been through the Crimea and Indian Mutiny), the Redpath girls,
whose mother was a widow, the Snodgrass young ladies (three in number),
the Misses Bland, residing at Jessimine Lodge, and, of course, many more
lesser luminaries. The Colonel's daughters, or "Golden Slippers," as
one of them was called by several members of the Camphill, who had
caught her in the act of watching a practice game on the eve of a big
Cup Tie, wearing a pair of fur-lined slippers, and had her heart set on
the Camphill beating the Black-and-Whites, was, indeed, the most
handsome girl in the burgh.

I would not dare to attempt a pen-and-ink sketch. It would fail in its
effect. It's all very good for you fellows who have no soul for feminine
loveliness to talk about girls, like babies, being all pretty much
alike, but you are wrong--entirely wrong. Jenny was, in fine, a "bonnie,
bonnie lass," and scores of young fellows, I know, would have gone
con