nce in the cheaper seats. In spite of the fact that the Pale
Pink Pierrots had been specially engaged to fill the interval before
the finalists passed, they were so loudly booed upon their
arrival that Mr. Tanquery McBrail put his mashie approach into the
Parliamentary compound, amidst the jeers and hoots of the more
unruly, who seemed to forget that the royal and ancient game is not a
music-hall entertainment.

* * * * *

The fact that the links marshal had placed all the professional
players present in one row of fauteuils, opposite the long carry to
the 18th green, hardly seemed to further the interests of perfect
golf. The warmest acknowledgments are therefore due to a number of
ex-open champions, who kindly turned their backs on what proved one of
the most distressing episodes in the day's play.

* * * * *

A MARK OF DISTINCTION.

When I passed our butcher's on my way to the station yesterday
morning, I noticed outside his shop a placard prominently displayed,
which read:--"Williamson's Spring Lamb. So different from the ordinary
butchers."

There was no apostrophe before the "s" in "butchers," so the reference
was clearly to Williamson and not Williamson's Spring Lamb.

"Is Williamson really different from his rivals?" I said to myself,
crossing to the other side of the road to take a general survey of
the shop front. No, the same sort of joints seemed to be hanging up as
those in other butchers' windows; the same sort of legends attached to
those which passers-by were invited to note particularly.

I crossed the road again. Yes, as I feared. There were several
ordinary flies and at least one bluebottle exercising themselves
on the meat. The choice cutlets were not isolated or decorated with
garlands, or made a fuss of in any way. They just fraternised on terms
of equality with the rest. The usual "young lady" in a smart blouse,
with her bare pink neck served up in a ham-frill, sat behind the
usual window, probably trying to work out the usual sums in butcher's
arithmetic.

The top half of Mr. Williamson was visible behind his chopping-table.
He saw me and touched his hat--a bowler; nothing very extraordinary
about the bowler. The brim was certainly a great deal flatter than I
like personally, but quite in keeping with the general tastes of those
who purvey meat.

I thought it better to postpone further investigations, and reflected
that H