s of all sorts."

"Ay, ay, of course. But what do folks say?"

"They say their prayers every Sunday."

"That isn't what I mean. I want to know whether there is anything new
and fresh."

"Yes; bread and herrings."

"Ah, you are a queer fellow. Pray, mister, may I ask your name?"

"Fools and clowns," said the gentleman, "call me 'Mister;' but I am in
reality one of the clowns of Aristophanes; and my real name is
_Brekekekex Koax_! Drive on, postilion!"

Now this is what we call a "pursuit of knowledge under difficulties" of
the most _obstinate_ kind.

BARON ROTHSCHILD.

THERE is a good story told recently of Baron Rothschild, of Paris, the
richest man of his class in the world, which shows that it is not only
"money which makes the mare go" (or horses either, for that matter), but
"_ready_ money," "unlimited credit" to the contrary notwithstanding. On
a very wet and disagreeable day, the Baron took a Parisian omnibus, on
his way to the Bourse or Exchange; near which the "Nabob of Finance"
alighted, and was going away without paying. The driver stopped him, and
demanded his fare. Rothschild felt in his pocket, but he had not a "red
cent" of change. The driver was very wroth:

"Well, what did you get _in_ for, if you could not pay? You must have
_known_ that you had no money!"

"I am Baron Rothschild!" exclaimed the great capitalist; "and there is
my card!"

The driver threw the card in the gutter: "Never heard of you before,"
said the driver, "and don't want to hear of you again. But I want my
fare--and I must have it!" The great banker was in haste. "I have only
an order for a million," he said. "Give me change;" and he proffered a
"coupon" for fifty thousand francs.

The conductor stared, and the passengers set up a horselaugh. Just then
an "Agent de Change" came by, and Baron Rothschild borrowed of him the
six sous.

The driver was now seized with a kind of remorseful respect; and turning
to the Money-King, he said:

"If you want ten francs, Sir, I don't mind lending them to you on my own
account!"

MRS. CAUDLE'S UMBRELLA.

ONE of the best chapters in "Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures," is where
that amiable and greatly abused angel reproaches her inhuman spouse with
loaning the family umbrella:

"Ah! that's the third umbrella gone since Christmas! What were you to
do? Why, let him go home in the rain. I don't think there was any thing
about _him_ that would spoil. Take cold, indee