set the Vicar all right.  With regard to their food, we should advise you to continue the tinned lobster and muffins, which they seem to relish.  You appear to be alarmed at their swallowing the tins.  There is no occasion for any anxiety on this point, the tin, doubtless, serving as the proverbial “digestive” pebble with which all birds, we believe, accompany a hearty meal.  We fear we cannot enlighten you as to how you make your profits out of an ostrich-farm; but, speaking at random, we should say they would probably arise by pulling the feathers out of the tails of the birds and selling them to Court Milliners.  Your idea of trying them in harness in a Hansom seems to have something in it.  Turn it over, by all means.  Meantime, get a Shilling Handbook on the Management of the Ostrich.  We think you will have to cover in your garden with a tarpaulin as you suggest.  You cannot expect the fifty birds to stay for ever in your back drawing-room; and the fact that you mention, of their having already kicked down and eaten one folding-door, is significant.  They will be escaping from your balcony all over the neighbourhood if you do not take care to secure them; and as they seem fresh, very aggressive, and strong in the leg, such a catastrophe might lead you into a good deal of unpleasantness.  Take our advice, and get them downstairs, tight under a stout tarpaulin, as soon as possible.

* * * * *

HOW IT’S DONE.

A HANDBOOK TO HONESTY.

NO.  I.—­“I’M MONARCH OF ALL I SURVEY!”

SCENE—­Interior of newly-erected building.  Present, the Builder and a Surveyor, the former looking timidly foxy, the latter knowingly pompous, and floridly self-important; Builder, in dusty suit of dittoes, carries one hand in his breeches-pocket, where he chinks certain metallic substances—­which may be coins or keys—­nervously and intermittently.  Surveyor, a burly mass of broadcloth and big watch-chain, carries an intimidating note-book, and a menacing pencil, making mems. in a staccato and stabbing fashion, which is singularly nerve-shaking.

Surveyor (speaking with his pencil in his mouth).  Well, Mister—­er—­er—­WOTSERNAME, I—­er—­think—­’m, ’m, ’m—­things seem to be pretty right as far’s I can see; though of course—­

Builder (hastily).  Oh, I assure you I’ve taken the greatest pains to conform to—­er—­rules in—­er—­in every way; though if there should be any little thing that ketches your eye, why, you’ve only to—­

[Illustration]

Surveyor.  Oh, of course, of course! We know all about that.  You see I can only go by rule.  What’s right’s right; what’s wrong’s wrong; that’s about the size of it. I’ve nothing to do with it, one way or another, except to see the law carried out.

Builder.  Ex-ack-ly!  However, if you’ve seen all you want to, we may as well step over to the “Crown and Thistle,” and—­