The other considerations should be their applicability to the promenade or the equestriade.  We are indebted to our friend Beau Reynolds for this original idea and it is upon the plan formerly adopted by him that we now proceed to advise as to the maintenance of the distinctions.

Let your schneider baste the trousers together, and when you have put them on, let them be braced to their natural tension; the schneider should then, with a small pair of scissors, cut out all the wrinkles which offend the eye.  The garment, being removed from your person, is again taken to the tailor’s laboratory, and the embrasures carefully and artistically fine-drawn.  The process for walking or riding trousers only varies in these particulars—­for the one you should stand upright, for the other you should straddle the back of a chair.  Trousers cut on these principles entail only two inconveniences, to which every one with the true feelings of a gentleman would willingly submit.  You must never attempt to sit down in your walking trousers, or venture to assume an upright position in your equestrians, for compound fractures in the region of the os sacrum, or dislocations about the genu patellae are certain to be the results of such rashness, and then

[Illustration:  “THE PEACE OF THE VALET IS FLED.”]

* * * * *

SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL. —­ NO. 6.

  Thou hast humbled the proud,
  For my spirit hath bow’d
  More humbly to thee than it e’er bow’d before;
      But thy pow’r is past,
      Thou hast triumph’d thy last,
  And the heart you enslaved beats in freedom once more! 
      I have treasured the flow’r
      You wore but an hour,
  And knelt by the mound where together we’ve sat;
      But thy-folly and pride
      I now only deride—­
  So, fair Isabel, take your change out of that!

  That I loved, and how well,
  It were madness to tell
  To one who hath mock’d at my madd’ning despair. 
      Like the white wreath of snow
      On the Alps’ rugged brow,
  Isabel, I have proved thee as cold as thou’rt fair! 
      ’Twas thy boast that I sued,
      That you scorn’d as I woo’d—­
  Though thou of my hopes were the Mount Ararat;
      But to-morrow I wed
      Araminta instead—­
  So, fair Isabel, take your change out of that!

* * * * *

THE LAST HAUL.

The ponds in St. James’s Park were on last Monday drawn with nets, and a large quantity of the fish preserved there carried away by direction of the Chief Commissioner of Woods and Forests.  Our talented correspondent, Ben D’Israeli, sends us the following squib on the circumstance:—­

  “Oh! never more,” Duncannon cried,
    “The spoils of place shall fill our dishes! 
  But though we’ve lost the loaves we’ll take
    Our last sad haul amongst the fishes.”