high-and-dry--
"The Unseen Foundations of Society";
And not, like wealthy big-wigs, be content
With smart attacks on "Theories of Rent."
Most theories of rent we know, the fact is
What we have doubts about, Duke, is--the practice!
When Rent in Power's hands becomes a rack
To torture Toil, bold wisdom will hark back
To the beginnings and the bases; ask
_What_ hides beneath that Economic mask
Which smiles unmoved by Sorrow's strain and stress
On half-starved Work and whole-starved Worklessness!

* * * * *

THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S.

A STORY IN SCENES.

SCENE IV.--Mrs. TIDMARSH'S _Drawing-room_; MR. TIDMARSH _has just
shaken hands with the latest arrival, and is still in the utmost
perplexity as to the best manner to adopt towards him. The other
Guests are conversing, with increased animation, at the further
end of the room._

_Lord Strathsporran_ (_to_ Mr. TIDMARSH). Afraid I'm most abominably
late--had some difficulty in getting here--such a fog, don't you know!
It's really uncommonly good of you to let me come and see your
antiquities like this. If I am not mistaken, you have got together a
collection of sepulchral objects worth coming any distance to study. [_He
glances round the room, in evident astonishment._

_Mr. Tid._ (_to himself_). Nice names to give my dinner-party! Impudent
young dog, this--Lord or no Lord! (_Aloud, with dignity._)
I--ha--hum--don't think that's quite the way to speak of them, Sir--my
Lord, I suppose I _ought_ to say!

_Lord Strath._ Oh, I expect a most interesting evening, I assure you.

_Mr. Tid._ Well, I--I daresay you'll have no cause to complain, so far as
_that_ goes, Lord--er--STRATH--you'll excuse me, but I haven't _quite_
got accustomed to that title of yours.

_Lord Strath._ (_smiling_). Not surprised at that--feel much the same
myself.

_Mr. Tid._ Ha--well, to tell you the honest truth, I should have been
just as pleased if you had come here _without_ any handle of that sort to
your name.

_Lord Strath._ Quite unnecessary to tell me so--and, you see, I couldn't
very well help myself.

_Mr. Tid._ (_to himself_). BLANKLEY sends 'em _all_ out with titles--then
his _is_ bogus! (_Aloud._) Oh, I don't blame _you_, if it's the rule;
only--(_irritably_)--well, it makes me feel so devilish _awkward_, you
know!

_Lord Strath._ Extremely sorry--don't know why it should. (_To himself._)
Queer little ch