“Hold your hand!” he cried to the Goliath.  “Don’t you see he’s but a novice?”

“Down he goes again!” the wiry Wirepuller cried, not heeding the interruption.  “Down he goes again!  I like whopping a swell!”

“Coward!” shouted CODLINGSBY.  “The sight makes me feel quite Dizzy.  A CODLINGSBY to the rescue!” and to fling open the window, amidst a shower of malodorous missiles, to vault over the balcony, and slide down one of the pillars to the ground, baring his steely biceps in the process, and shying the “castor” from his curly looks with all the virile grace of the Great Earl, was the work of exactly five-sixths of a second.

At the sixth-sixth he stood before the enormous Wirepuller.

“SCHNADDY, my boy,” he exclaimed, “I’m going to fight you with your own weapon—­and wallop you.  Look to yourself, churl Caucusite!”

“DIZZY’s Double, by all that’s theosophical!” faltered SCHNADDY, shrinking at once to half his previous size, under the influence of the startling sight, and the yet more startling “spank” from young DIZZY’s dexter bunch-of-fives.

* * * * *

When SCHNADDY, after six weeks’ bed and bandaging, at last came out of hospital, his occupation as Wirepuller was gone.  CODLINGSBY JUNIOR had stepped into his shoes, and the late “Organiser of Victory” and his Party had not “the least little bit of a look in.”

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Baron’s Assistant Reader has been dipping into Robert Browning—­Essays and Thoughts, by JOHN T. NETTLESHIP. (ELKIN MATHEWS, Vigo Street.) He advises all other readers to grasp his nettleship boldly.  At last the Baron’s A.R. thinks he understands “Childe Roland,” after reading the twenty-five pages which Mr. NETTLESHIP devotes to the explanation of this noble but tantalising poem.  Mr. NETTLESHIP’s attitude is that of a fervent, but humble disciple, for whom his Master’s every word possesses deep and subtle meanings.  He believes with GEORGE ELIOT that “the words of genius bear a wider meaning than the thought which prompted them.”  That of course gives him unlimited scope, and sometimes makes the explanations long; but every lover of BROWNING will find in the book a great deal of sound and helpful criticism well expressed.  Buy the book and see for yourself, says the Baron’s A.R.

[Illustration:  The Art of Lying.]

Fascinating is OSCAR WILDE’s paper “On the Decay of Lying,” which is the first essay in a book of his entitled Intentions.  If it be true that the art of lying is decaying—­but, stay! how can anyone take the word of a professor of the art of lying for this or any other fact?  No, his motto must be, “See me reverse.”  Not that by suggesting this motto I would for a moment be understood as expressing a wish for OSCAR’s once again dropping into poetry—­that OSCAR should once again take to the other sort of Lyre;