“That’s the man for my money,” said ARPACHSHAD, looking with growing discontent at the Member for SARK, who, with the only blade left in his tortoiseshell-handled penknife, was diligently digging weeds out of the walk.

* * * * *

IN THE CLUB SMOKING-ROOM.

“Lux Mundi,” said somebody, reading aloud the title heading a lengthy criticism in the Times.

“Don’t know so much about that,” observed a sporting and superstitious young man; “but I know that ‘Ill luck’s Friday.’”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  HIGHER EDUCATION.

Mr. Punch.  “THAT’S ALL VERY WELL, BUT IT’S TOO DULL.  LET THEM HAVE A LITTLE SUNSHINE, OR THEY WILL NEVER FOLLOW YOU.”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  A POSER.

Fair Client.  “I’M ALWAYS PHOTOGRAPHED FROM THE SAME SIDE, BUT I FORGET WHICH!”

Scotch Photographer (reflectively).  “WELL, IT’LL NO BE THIS SIDE, I’M THINKIN’.  MAYBE IT’S T’ITHER!”]

* * * * *

PARS ABOUT PICTURES.

Yes, quite so.  It’s a very good excuse!  Whenever I do not turn up when I am expected, my children say, “Pa’s about pictures.”  It’s just the same as a doctor, when he forgets to keep an appointment, says, “he has unexpectedly been called out.”  Yah! I’d call some of ’em out if I had the chance.  I took French leave the other day, and went to the French Gallery, expecting to see sketches in French chalk, or studies in French grey.  Nothing of the kind!  Mr. WALLIS will have his little joke.  The main part of the exhibition is essentially English, and so I found my Parisian accent was entirely thrown away.  If it had only been Scotch, I could have said something about the “Scots wha hae wi’ WALLIS,” but I didn’t have even that chance.  Too bad, though, the show is a good one.  “English, you know, quite English.”  Lots of good landscapes by LEADER, bright, fresh, breezy.  Young painters should “follow their Leader,” and they can’t go very far wrong.  I would write a leader on the subject, and introduce something about the land-scape-goat, only I know it would be cut out.  Being very busy, sent Young Par to see Miss CHARLOTTE ROBINSON’s Exhibition of Screens.  He behaved badly.  Instead of looking at matters in a serious light, he seemed to look upon the whole affair as a “screening farce,” and began to sing—­

  Here screens of all kinds you may see,
  Designed most ar-tist-tic-a-lee,
  In exquisite va-ri-e-tee,
    By clever CHARLOTTE ROBINSON! 
  They’ll screen you from the bitter breeze,
  They’ll screen you when you take your teas,
  They’ll screen you when you flirt with shes—­
    Delightful CHARLOTTE ROBINSON!

He then folded his arms, and began to sing, “with my riddle-ol, de riddle-ol, de ri, de O,” danced a hornpipe all over the place, broke several valuable pieces of furniture, and was removed in charge of the police.  And this is the boy that was to be a comfort to me in my old age!