lime.

Along about the beginning of the Christian "Erie," says an elderly
Englishman, the Queen Boadicea got so disgusted with the Romans who
carried on there in England just as they had been in the habit of doing
at home,--cutting up like a hallowe'en party in its junior year,--that
she got her Britons together, had a steel dress made to fight in
comfortably and not tight under the arms, then she said, "Is there any
one here who hath a culverin with him?" One was soon found and fired.
This by the Romans was regarded as an opening of hostilities. Her fire
was returned with great eagerness, and victory was won in the city of
London over the Romans, who had taunted the queen several times with
being seven years behind the beginning of the Christian Era in the
matter of clothes.

[Illustration: ROMAN COAT OF ARMS.]

Boadicea won victories by the score, and it is said that under the besom
of her wrath seventy thousand Roman warriors kissed the dust. As she
waved her sceptre in token of victory the hat-pin came out of her crown,
and wildly throwing the "old hot thing" at the Roman general, she missed
him and unhorsed her own chaperon.

Disgusted with war and the cooking they were having at the time, she
burst into tears just on the eve of a general victory over the Romans
and poisoned herself.

[Illustration: DEATH OF BOADICEA.]

N.B.--Many thanks are due to the author, Mr. A. Barber, for the use of
his works entitled "Half-Hours with Crowned Heads" and "Thoughts on
Shaving Dead People on Whom One Has Never Called," cloth, gilt top.

I notice an error in the artist's work which will be apparent to any one
of moderate intelligence, and especially to the Englishman,--viz., that
the tin discovered by the Phoenicians is in the form of cans, etc.,
formerly having contained tinned meats, fruits, etc. This book, I fear,
will be sharply criticised in England if any inaccuracy be permitted to
creep in, even through the illustrations. It is disagreeable to fall out
thus early with one's artist, but the writer knows too well, and the
sting yet burns and rankles in his soul where pierced the poisoned dart
of an English clergyman two years ago. The writer had spoken of Julius
Caesar's invasion of Britain for the purpose of replenishing the Roman
stock of umbrellas, top-coats, and "loydies," when the clergyman said,
politely but very firmly, "that England then had no top-coats or
umbrellas." The writer would not have cared, had th