mpant, with all their old splendid command of polysyllabic
periphrasis. One need only turn to the notice of "The John Exhibition" in
last Thursday's _Daily Telegraph_, from which we select the following
page:--

"It [the exhibition] is a display of purposeful portraiture that helps one
to realise the effect which Theotokopoulos produced upon his watchful
contemporaries, and to understand why the Cretan continued to walk alone on
his way. If some insist on finding modern El Greco versions of Inspectors
and Inquisitors-general in this John gathering, compounded of comparatively
innocuous personalities, the privilege is, of course, permissible, and
incidentally brightens conversation in irresponsible circles."

But a higher level of full-throated _bravura_ is attained later on:--

"If reiteration may also be the mark of the best portraiture, _pace_ Lord
Fisher, commendation should be given to Mr. John for continuing to
visualize the great seaman as Jupiter Tonans flashing in gold lace."

How delightful it is, after the arid methods of the modern critics, bred up
on BENEDETTO CROCE, to hear the old authentic leonine ecstasy of SALA,
"monarch of the florid quill!" Mr. Punch, once hailed by the _D.T._ as "the
Democritus of Fleet Street," on the strength of his "memorable monosyllabic
monition," in turn salutes the immortal protagonist of the purple
polysyllable.

* * * * *

WITCHCRAFT.

(_A Mediaeval Tragedy._)

"I want," said the maiden, glancing round her with tremulous distaste at
the stuffed crocodile, the black cat and the cauldron simmering on the
hearth, "to see some of your complexion specialities."

"You want nothing of the kind," retorted the witch. "Why prevaricate? A
maid with your colour hath small need even of my triple extract of toads'
livers. What you have really come for is either a love-potion--" she paused
and glanced keenly at her visitor--"or the means to avenge love
unrequited."

The maiden had flushed crimson. "I wish he were dead!" she whispered.

"Now you are talking. That wish is, of course, the simplest thing in the
world to gratify, if only you are prepared to pay for it. I presume Moddam
would not desire anything too easy?"

"He had promised,", broke out the maiden uncontrollably, "to take me to the
charity bear-baiting matinee in aid of unemployed ex-Crusaders. The whole
thing was arranged. And then at the last moment--"

"Precisely as I had supposed