lingly brave the _mal-de-mer_ for the sake of a week in Paris, it
is not likely that they will patronise French theatricals in London,
even for their own linguistic and artistic improvement, or solely for
the benefit of the deserving and enterprising M. MAYER. Even if it
be _mal-de-mer_ against _bien de Mayer_, an English admirer of French
acting would risk the former to get a week in Paris. We are sorry 'tis
so, but so 'tis.

* * * * *

"THE MAGAZINE RIFLE."--Is this invention patented by the Editor of
_The Review of Reviews_? Good title for the Staff of that Magazine,
"The Magazine Rifle Corps."

* * * * *

[Illustration: UNNECESSARY CANDOUR.

_Critic_. "BY JOVE, HOW ONE CHANGES! I'VE QUITE CEASED TO ADMIRE THE
KIND OF PAINTING I USED TO THINK SO CLEVER TEN YEARS AGO; AND _VICE
VERSA_!"

_Pictor_. "THAT'S AS IT _SHOULD_ BE! IT SHOWS PROGRESS, DEVELOPMENT!
IT'S AN UNMISTAKABLE PROOF THAT YOU'VE REACHED A HIGHER INTELLECTUAL
AND ARTISTIC LEVEL, A MORE ADVANCED STAGE OF CULTURE, A LOFTIER--"

_Critic_. "I'M GLAD YOU THINK SO, OLD MAN. BUT, CONFOUND IT, YOU
KNOW!--THE KIND OF PAINTING I USED TO THINK SO CLEVER TEN YEARS AGO,
HAPPENS TO BE _YOURS_!"]

* * * * *

BETWEEN THE QUICK AND THE DEAD.

The Appeal's to Justice! Justice lendeth ear
Unstirred by favour, unseduced by fear;
And they who Justice love must check the thrill
Of natural shame, and listen, and be still.
These wrangling tales of horror shake the heart
With pitiful disgust. Oh, glorious part
For British manhood, much bepraised, to play
In that dark land late touched by culture's day!
Are these our Heroes pictured each by each?
We fondly deemed that where our English speech
Sounded, there English hearts, of mould humane.
Justice would strengthen, cruelty restrain.
And is it all a figment of false pride?
_Such_ horrors do our vaunting annals hide
Beneath a world of words, like flowers that wave
In tropic swamps o'er a malarious grave?

These are the questions which perforce intrude
As the long tale of horror coarse and crude,
Rolls out its sickening chapters one by one.
What will the verdict be when all is done?
Conflicting counsels in loud chorus rise,
"Hush the thing up!" the knowing cynic cries,
"Arm not our chuckling enemies at gaze
With charnel dust to foul our brightest bays!
Let the dead past