aring completion, one of them caught
sight of himself in the mirror, and remarked with astonishment upon
the loveliness of his own features. It was the lemon-yellow
beautifying the British workman's flesh tones.

"I assure you the effect of a room full of people in evening dress
seen against the yellow ground is extraordinary, and," added Blank,
"perhaps flattering."

"Then do I understand that you would remove all wall papers?"

"A good ground for distemper," chuckled Mr. Blank.

"But you propose to inaugurate a revolution."

"I don't go so far as that, but I am glad to be able to introduce my
ideas of house furnishing and house decoration to the public," said
Blank, "and I may tell you that when I go to America with my Paris
pictures, I shall try and decorate a house according to my own ideas,
and ask the Americans to think about the matter."

_Another Poacher in the Chelsea Preserves_

[Sidenote: _The World_, Dec. 26, 1888.]

Atlas--Nothing matters but the unimportant; so, at the risk of
advertising an Australian immigrant of Fulham--who, like the Kangaroo
of his country, is born with a pocket and puts everything into
it--and, in spite of much wise advice, we ought not to resist the joy
of noticing how readily a hurried contemporary has fallen a prey to
its superficial knowledge of its various departments, and, culminating
in a "Special Edition" last week to embody a lengthy interview headed
"The Home of Taste," has discovered again the nest of the mare that
was foaled years ago!

How, by the way, so smart a paper should have printed its _naif_
emotions of ecstasy before the false colours which the "Kangaroo" has
hoisted over his bush, defies all usual explanation, but clearly the
jaunty reporter whose impudent familiarity, on a former memorable
occasion, achieved my wondering admiration, must have been, in stress
of business, replaced by a novice who had never breakfasted with
you and me, Atlas, and the rest of the world, in the "lemon-yellow,"
of whose beautiful tone he now, for the first time, is so completely
convinced.

The "hue" on the "face" of the Fulham "Palazzo" he moreover calls
"Venetian," and is pleased with it--and so was I, Atlas--_for I mixed
it myself_!

And yet, O Atlas, they say that I cannot keep a friend--my dear, I
cannot afford it--and _you_ only keep for me their scalps!

"Many, when a thing was lent them, reckoned it to be found, and put
them to trouble t