which there is peradventure some
little humour, you drop in at a confectioner's, and fortify yourself
with a nineteenth-century bun, with which you trifle whilst the train
tarries.

* * * * *

A SPORTING CORRESPONDENT, who says "he isn't in the know," asks "what we
think of _Garter_ for the Derby?" A word to the wise is sufficient.
"Garter" rhymes to "Starter." The Motto of the Garter is, _Honi soit qui
mal y pense_. We have spoken.

* * * * *

Illustration: THE POOR CHILDREN'S PANTOMIME; OR SAVED BY A MAGISTRATE'S
ORDER.

* * * * *

THE MYSTIC LETTERS.

Through the vast hall he stepped alone.
Books, books were everywhere,
In all the world he had not known
A library so fair.

Through pictured windows sunshine fell
On carven cedar old,
On velvet hangings, shading well
Fair bindings manifold.

Right joyfully he wandered on,
Yet marvelled much to see--
Gold letters on each volume shone,
D. W. and T.

"Some happy publisher," he mused,
"Is designated thus--
Perchance, who yet has not perused
_My_ homeless genius."

That publisher if I could view,
I'd fall down at his feet.
"Rise," he would cry. "For need of you
The whole is incomplete!"

His heart stood still. What wondrous sight
Struck him with joyful awe?
Inscribed in letters large and bright,
'Twas his own name he saw.

His own great works! All, all were there,
Each title that he knew,
In vellum, in morocco rare
Of deep aesthetic blue.

The Sonnets that his youth engrossed,
The Novel of his prime,
The Epic that he loved the most,
The Tragedy sublime.

He took the Epic from the shelf,
Engravings rare surveyed--
The Artist seemed a higher self,
Who knew and who portrayed.

"Notices of the Press"--His eyes
Grew dim as he descried
"True Genius we recognise"--
Ah, who was at his side?

He turned; but could it be, in truth,
The Publisher he scanned?
No austere presence, but a youth
With poppies in his hand,

Who smiled. Whereat the Author's mien
Grew slowly blank, as on
The mystic letters he had seen
A fatal meaning shone.

It seemed a melancholy wind
Swept by him as he spoke.
"D. W. and T. 'Declined
With Thanks!'" he said, and woke.

* * * * *

Illus