e girls at Cambridge.
And I get my clothes free, and my food comes in gratuitously. Why, you
must be a stranger if you don't know that! Why everything and anything
is paid by the Government--out of the Income Tax."

"And don't you ever work?"

"Work! bless you, no. I can't afford to work! If I did, I should have
to pay the Income Tax myself!" returned the T.W.M., with a grin.

"Then who does contribute to this evidently highly-important source of
revenue?

"Why, the professional men, under Schedule D!" cried the hardy son of
toil. "The authors with families, and the City clerks. All _that_ set,
you know. They pay the Income Tax, sure enough. It's as much as they
can do to keep bodies and souls together. But _somebody_ must pay--why
not they?--pay for themselves--and for me!"

* * * * *

THE DUMB SHOW.--It sounds odd that the serious pantomime, _L'Enfant
Prodigue_, the play without words, should be "the talk of London."

* * * * *

LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.

[Illustration: Canvas and Scrutiny.]

"_George Hotel," Billsbury, Friday, April 25th_.--Arrived this morning
in order to attend a "Monstre Open Air Conservative Fete, which was
held in the grounds of the Billsbury Summer Palace. The programme
was a very attractive one. First, there was a "reception of town
and county delegates and their ladies" by the Earl and Countess of
ROCHEVIEILLE. The Earl is a scrubby little fellow of about sixty,
who looks more like an old-clothes-man than anything else. Norman
noses--at least their descendants in this generation--are curiously
like the Semitic variety sometimes. The name is pronounced "Rovail,"
and both the Earl and Countess get blue with rage if anybody makes
a mistake about it, as nearly all the delegates did. They stood on a
raised dais, and received delegates' addresses to the number of about
thirty. Lady ROCHEVIEILLE is a stout lady--very. It was a blazing hot
day, and she was "overcome" just as she was shaking hands with Colonel
and Mrs. CHORKLE, who were accompanied by BENJAMIN DISRAELI CHORKLE.
The rest of the CHORKLE family, including WILLIAMINA HENRIETTA SMITH
CHORKLE, who was in a nurse's arms, were somewhere about the grounds
looking for the "Magic Haunts of the Fairy Bulbul," and eating
enormous quantities of macaroons, which I had given them. Colonel
CHORKLE rather lost his head when Lady R. collapsed. He made an effort
to pick her