unhesitatingly,
"Yes, dear, _all_."

* * * * *

[Illustration: "A Legal Conveyance."]

* * * * *

After this, what was the show! Everybody was somebody else. Only the
QUEEN and the PRINCE were beyond the power of error. She found them
out at once. She was enthusiastic about the distinctness of the
PRINCE's voice in reading the Address, and she bent forward so as
not to lose a syllable of the QUEEN's gracious reply. She explained
everything wrong. A few ladies looked at her, mutely beseeching some
respite for their ears; would she only give herself ten minutes' rest?
No--it was a great chance for the well-informed young woman, and she
made the most of it. Even the heat didn't affect her. Processions
might come, and processions might go, but like the babbling brook,
she could and would "go on for ever." I have forgotten to add that
she also knew how everyone arrived, and her Grandmother was much
interested at hearing how Her Majesty's Judges all came in an omnibus,
driven and conducted by eminent judicial functionaries.

A grand show, "Abely worked by our Secretary," says Sir
Early-Springs-and-SOMERS VINE, C.M.G., Assistant Secretary, and to
both of them great praise is due. Now, then, to adapt the title of
Lord LYTTON's novel, "_What will we do with it?_"

THE MAN WHO WENT.

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

In the _Song of the Sword and Other Verses_, Mr. HENLEY incidentally
asks, "What have I done for you, England, my England?" Since the
question is put so pointedly, my Baronite, who has been looking
through the little volume of verse, is bound to reply that, what Mr.
HENLEY has done for England is to make it as ridiculous as is possible
to a man with a limited audience. Mr. HENLEY has a pretty gift
of versification, but it is spoiled by a wearisome proneness to
smartness, and an assumption of personal superiority that occasionally
reaches the heights of the ludicrous. If 'ARRY had been at the
University, and had bent what he calls his mind upon verse-making,
some of the truculent rhyme in this book is the sort of stuff he would
have turned out. It seems at first hearing a far cry from 'ARRY to
HENLEY. But the dispassionate reader, turning over these sulphurous
leaves, will perceive deeply-rooted similarity in that narrowness of
view, and that undisturbed consciousness that it alone is right, which
distinguish the r