since the proprietor of the premises in which your
Steam-roller has fixed itself refuses to allow you to try to remove it
by dynamite, leave it where it is. Put the whole matter into the hands
of a sharp local lawyer, and go on to the Continent until it has blown
over.

* * * * *

[Illustration: A HERO "FIN DE SIECLE."

_Podgers_ (_of Sandboys Golf Club_). "MY DEAR MISS ROBINSON, GOLF'S
THE ONLY GAME NOWADAYS FOR THE _MEN_. LAWN-TENNIS IS ALL VERY WELL FOR
YOU _GIRLS_, YOU KNOW."]

* * * * *

HIGHWAYS AND LOW WAYS.

There is evidently all the difference in the world between "The King's
Highway"--of song--and the Kingsland highway--of fact. Song says all
is equal to--

"High and low on the King's highway."

Experience teaches that a sober citizen traversing the highway
unfavourably known as the Kingsland Road, is liable to be tripped
up, robbed and thumped senseless by organised gangs of Kingsland
roughs. It seems doubtful whether Neapolitan banditti or Australian
bush-whackers are much worse than these Cockney ruffians, these
vulgar, vicious and villanous "Knights of the (Kingsland) Road." Is it
not high time that the local authorities--and the local police--looked
to this particular "highway," which seems so much more like a "byway"
not to say a "by-word and a reproach" to a city suburb?

* * * * *

A CASE FOR THE SURGEONS.--Mrs. Ramsbotham, who has a great respect
for the attainments of Members of the Medical profession, cannot
understand why Army Doctors should be called "non-competents."

* * * * *

THE MODERN MILKMAID'S SONG.

(AT THE DAIRY SHOW.)

_AN EXTRACT FROM THE "COMPLETE ANGLER" OF THE FUTURE._

_Piscator_, MAUDLIN, I pray you, do us the courtesy to sing a song
concerning your late visit to London.

MAUDLIN _sings_:--

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That come in competition's field
From reckoning up the Shorthorn's "yield."

To Town we'll come in modish frocks,
Where swells appraise our herds and flocks,
By days "in profit" great or small,
All in the Agricultural Hall.

Cockneys shall come and poke their noses
Into our churns as sweet as roses;
And to quiz MAUDLIN in clean kirtle
The toffs of Town will crush and hurtle.

You'll see the Queen, of pride chock-full,
Take first prize with