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, mournfully shaking his head. Well, let us exchange places. You shall be the Author, and I will be the Critic." "Very sorry, my dear friend, but that is an unjust division. By that means you would receive all the money." "And why not? If I am to write, why am I not to be paid?" "Because it is beneath the dignity of an Author to write with a view to obtaining cash." "Indeed! Well, I am tired of work. You have nothing to do but criticise. Let us swap positions." "Are you mad?" shouted the Critic. "Why, I am fond of my work. You don't imagine I am going to give up my salary to you? Why, it would demoralise you. I know the drawback of the system." And the Author applied himself to the study of the New Criticism, and it seemed as great a mystery to him as ever. * * * * * LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS. _Mount Street, Grosvenor Square_. DEAR MR. PUNCH, Nothing but a keen sense of duty, coupled with the possession of _the_ smartest thing in waterproof overcoats ever seen, would have tempted me to go racing last week; but the claims of Hurst Park were not to be denied, and my reward was, assisting at perhaps the most successful meeting ever held there--(the backers "went down" to a man, and so did the excellent lunch--so what more _could_ you want?)--and, in addition, being told by at least twenty people, the name of the winner of the Cesarewitch!--they all named different horses, so that _one_ is almost certain to be able to say next week, in that annoying tone of voice people adopt after a successful prophecy--(this does _not_ apply to Just Prophets, who are notoriously modest in success)--"_There_! I _told_ you it was a certainty for _Whiteface_!--couldn't lose!--_of course_ you backed it, after what I told you!"--which of course was the very reason why you _hadn't_ backed it; however--as he may really be able to tell you something on a future occasion, you put on a ghastly smile, and say--"Oh, yes--I had a trifle on--but my _money_ was on _Blackfoot_ before you told me--but it got me out!"--and it does "get you out" too, for nothing is more annoying than to be told you "ought to have won a good stake!" However, with regard to the great race next week, I am fortunately able to set aside all "information received," because I have had _a dream_!--not one of the ordinary lobster-salad kind of racing-dreams one reads about--(naturally _I_ should not have an inferior kind, having
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