must bring my poor children home from school,
as I can no longer afford the expense of their education," so said an
elderly dame in shabby mourning.

"But how can I help you?" asked the Hon. CROESUS. "What has brought
you to this pass?"

"Why, you, Sir," returned the ex-officer. "You, Sir!"

"Come," said the Hon. CROESUS, waxing angry, "I advise you to be
careful of the provisions of the Libel and Slander Act. You accuse me
of bringing you to poverty! Why, I have never seen any of you in my
life--never even heard of you!"

"But we have heard of you," they cried. "Yes, we have."

"We are all shareholders in the Bubble Babble Syndicate, Limited,"
explained the parson, tearfully, "and we have consequently lost every
thing we had in the world."

"But what have I to do with it?" again asked the Hon. CROESUS. "Very
sorry to hear of your misfortunes, but I don't see how _I_ come in."

"Why you, Sir," exclaimed the ex-officer; "you, Sir, were one of the
officials!"

"Pardon me, Sir, I was nothing of the sort. I have nothing whatever to
do with the Syndicate. I was merely a Director."

And when the defrauded shareholders found out that he was only _that_,
they went away complaining, but convinced they would be afforded by
him no relief. And they were right, for the Hon. CROESUS (who was
old-fashioned in his ways) acted strictly according to precedent.

* * * * *

THE PRIVATE VIEW.

(_By a Visitor, Small but not Early._)

Irony about this View
Is, I fear, more true than new,
Still the crowd's a great 'un;
Heads and bodies hide from me
Pictures that I wish to see;
Smooth, fair maids by LEIGHTON;

If I seek a work by WELLS,
Can I see through _beaux_ and _belles?_
I can but survey 'em.
Hid the masterpiece of BROCK
By some girl's wide-shouldered frock,
So the bulls of GRAHAM.

If my eyes seek breezy HOOKS,
Hooks and eyes obstruct my looks;
Pity me, dear reader!
Cobalt Cornish seas by BRETT
Hid by _chignons_ in a net,
Likewise views by LEADER!

See, instead of groups by CROWE,
Coats, black like him, in a row;
Also, quite as thick, see
Backs, not sculptured ones by BATES,
Hide the pretty pinkish pates
Done to death by DICKSEE!

If I strive to see a SANT,
My large neighbours make me pant,
For they push so coarsely;
Or the evergreens of STONE,
Then they nip my funnybone;
And I lose what HORSLE