e on the cards that they play with Papa,
And where all that goes on is surveyed by Mamma.

To Golf on the downs for the whole of the day
Is "so awfully jolly," they keep on asserting,
With a good-looking fellow to teach you the way,
And to fill up the time with some innocent flirting,
And it may be the maiden is wooed and is won,
Ere the whole of the round is completed and done.

Henceforward, then, Golf is the game for the fair--
At home, and abroad, or in pastures Colonial,
And the shouts of the ladies will quite fill the air
For the Links that will turn into bonds Matrimonial,
And for husbands our daughters in future will seek
With the powerful aid of the putter and cleek!

* * * * *

CORRESPONDENCE SPECIAL.--KNOODEL, of Knoodel Court, writes to
us:--"Sir,--I have recently come across the name 'bacteriologist.'
Is it a new name for a person who writes ill of another behind his
back? If so, the best remedy for the mischief he causes is a criminal
action." [Our advice to KNOODEL is, "Consult a Solicitor."--ED.]

* * * * *

"CARMEN UP TO DATE AT THE GAIETY."--"Approbation of Miss ALMA STANLEY
is praise indeed." The correct quotation adapted _a la fin du Siecle_.

* * * * *

[Illustration: IN OUR GARDEN.]

_Tuesday Morning_.--Still in Edinburgh, but going home to-night. Just
received telegram from Member for SARK. "Come home at once," he says;
"the _Peronospora Schleideniana_ has got at the onions."

Rather a shock to have news like this flashed upon one with that
absence of deliberation that sometimes marks the telegraph service.
But I cannot say I am surprised. I had, indeed, before leaving, called
SARK's attention to what I recognised as the greyish mycelial threads
of the fungus spreading upon the pipes and budding seed-heads. If SARK
had steeped the seed in sulphate of copper before planting it, this
wouldn't have happened. It's a pity, for I rather thought we would
make something towards expenses out of that onion-bed. There's no more
profitable crop than your pickling onions if well farmed. I know a man
who made L150 an acre out of his onions. But then he wasn't hampered
in his arrangements with a fellow like SARK.

Called on Mr. G. to say good-bye. He was sympathetic about the onion
blight, but I could see that his mind was occupied with other and
perhaps equally saddening