OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Baron's Diarist and Date Examiner makes the following exhaustive
notes:--first that Mr. C. LETTS describes some of his _Pocket
Diaries_ as "The Improved." There is nothing so good but what it
could be better. Lett's admit this, and be satisfied with the latest
edition of Letts' Annuals, which are prizes, though, until Jan. 1,
blanks.

_The Paradise of the North_, by DAVID LAWSON JOHNSTONE. When a
gentleman chooses the North Pole as a Paradise, he must be allowed
any amount of Latitude and Longitude. This explorer leaves his
CHAMBERS (the Publishers of that ilk) in order to get out of the
world by the coldest route.

A note on INNES & Co. "Innes" has several Outs this season. Cheery
name for a Christmas Publisher, "Innes." We take our ease at our
Innes, and we read with pleasure their dainty books called,
_Bartlemy's Child_, by FRANCES COMPTON, a very pretty story. L. B.
WALFORD (the authoress of _Mr. Smith_) condescends to write _For
Grown-Up Children_, a number of delightful tales.

Messrs. OSGOOD as good as ever. Why not follow up their _Bret Harte
Birthday Book_ (most Harte-tistically got up) with a _Sweet-Heart
Birthday Book?_ Madame VAN DE VELDE has compiled this. Our
sparklingest Baronite exclaims, "Velde done!"

Thanks to MARCUS WARD & Co. for _The Cottar's Saturday Night_, by
ROBBIE BURNS. "Oh, wad some friend the giftie gi'e us!"--as anyone
who would like this for a Christmas present may say, adapting the
poet to his purpose.

* * * * *

[Illustration: The Baron and his Christmas Books.]

"A most sweet story! A most charming story!!" gurgled the Baron, as,
with sobs in his inner voice, talking to himself, he finished the
penultimate chapter of _Dolly_. "Now, Mrs. BURNETT, if you dare to kill
your heroine, I swear I'll never forgive you, and never read another of
your fatally-fascinating books." The Baron trembled as he commenced the
last chapter of the simplest, most natural, most touching, and most
exquisitely-told story he has read for many a day. How would it end? A
few lines sufficed. "Bless you, Mrs. BURNETT!" snivelled the Baron, not
ashamed of dabbing his eyes with his kerchief. "Bless you, Ma'am! You
have let 'em live! May your new book go to countless editions! May it be
another _Little Lord Fauntleroy_, and may you reap a golden reward