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HORATIAN MOTTO FOR MR. STANSFELD & CO.--"_Gens humana ruit per vetitum
nefas._" "The humane gent plunges headlong into impropriety."

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THE BEST "DRESS IMPROVER."--A Pretty Girl.

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A REMINISCENCE OF THE NAVAL REVIEW.

I HAD never seen a Naval Review. It was to come off on the Saturday, and
this was the Thursday previous. When therefore in answer to a modest
inquiry, I received a wire from Mr. RICHARD ROSSHER, Chairman of the
Great M. & N. Steamship Company, saying, "Come aboard our new boat,
_Regina_, to-morrow, Friday; tickets and instructions by post," I made
up my mind on the spot to accept, if I could return on the Saturday
night, as business of the utmost importance demanded my presence in
London on Sunday morning. What that business was is nobody's business
but mine, so I need not explain. Suffice it to say that to miss a
certain appointment on Sunday morning, would have been fraught with most
disastrous consequences to myself and others.

[Illustration]

I answered ROSSHER'S telegram, "Yes, with pleasure, if you can land me
Saturday night." To which the reply was, "Think it can be managed; try
to come." To this I wired, "Instructions and tickets received. Am
coming." Within two hours I got a message from a Clerk in the M. & N.
Office, City, "ROSSHER on board at Southampton. Too late to wire."

What this was meant to convey I did not understand, but my mind was made
up, and very soon my bag was packed, and I was ready for the start. At
all events, there was the utter novelty to me of being a guest on board
one of the largest vessels afloat in the Indian Merchant Service (I
believe it is the Indian Merchant Service, or, as OLLENDORFF would put
it, "the Service of the Indian Merchant,") with a select party, limited,
I supposed, to about a dozen "jolly companions every one," and in being
taken in and done for _en prince_, _en prince indien_.

"Immensely kind of ROSSHER," I said to myself (and subsequently said it
to him) as I alighted at the Waterloo Station, and proceeded at once to
the wrong platform. I do not remember ever having been to Waterloo
Station without having been to the wrong platform to begin with.

Bag in hand, and coat over arm--the wary sea-dog provides against
probable squalls--I strode to another platform--wrong again. "The M. &
N. Special," I panted to a porter, who was so taken aback by bei