we had a definite rule everything would be simple, but
as we have not it is necessary to find several more names. I am not at
all satisfied with _The Daily Express's_ test. For example, what would
a second parlour-maid be called? If three were kept they might be
called Palm, Palmer and Palmist. A long vista of difficulties opens.
* * * * *
RUS IN URBE.
["Encouraged by the summer weather yesterday, a titled lady
took her tea with some friends on the footway at Belsize
Park Gardens, Hampstead. Unsympathetic passers-by,
however, complained of the obstruction ... and, following
representation to the police by the public, the _al-fresco_
tea-party was broken up."--_Daily News_.]
In spite of the innate conservatism of the police we are pleased
to think that the seeds of a happy unconventionality, sown by this
courageous lady of title, have already borne fruit.
On Thursday night, about ten o'clock, the attention of passers-by was
drawn to a four-post bed, which was being trundled along the Strand
by eight stalwart footmen. On it reposed the Duke of Sleepyacres. It
appears that his Grace, on return from active service, found that the
confined air of an ordinary bed-room engendered insomnia. He therefore
conceived the idea of sleeping in the open-air and caused his bed to
be placed in the centre of the Strand, opposite the entrance to the
Savoy Hotel. The presence of the sleeping nobleman might have been
unnoticed, had not Mr. SMILLIE chanced to pass the spot on his way
from dining after a session of the Coal Commission. His eye was
immediately caught by the ducal crest on the panels of the bed.
Suspicious that this was a dastardly attempt on the part of a
member of the landed classes to obtain sleeping-rights in a public
thoroughfare, Mr. SMILLIE lodged a complaint with the police, and the
Duke was removed to Bow Street.
Some mild interest has been displayed by the public in a camp which
has been established by three subalterns in the roadway at the corner
of Charing Cross and Northumberland Avenue. It is a small and quite
inconspicuous affair, consisting merely of an army pattern bell-tent,
a camp fire and a few deck chairs. Our representative recently visited
the occupants to ascertain the reason for their presence. After
hastily declining an offer of a glass of E.F.C. port, smuggled over
from France, he inquired with polite interest whether his hosts
conte
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