far from it.  No; let him remain the head professor of the gay science of mendacity in the Cretan College.  Now, when a Professor and double M.A., i.e., Master of the Mendacious Art in the Cretan College, says or writes one thing, he must be taken as meaning exactly the opposite.  Otherwise he is no Cretan, and must be degraded from his Professorship.  Bearing this in mind, the essay is, as I have said, in matter most amusing, and in style charming.  Remember, my reader, that whosoever and whatsoever is blamed, abused, or flouted in this essay, is really being praised, lauded, and adulated to the skies by the Cretan critic.  But when the M.M.A. writes on other subjects, are we to trust him? there’s the difficulty.  So after the first essay, which is hereby recommended by the Faculty, the Baron puts the book aside. “Caute legendum,” says

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

AN OLD-FASHIONED BUFFER ON BALFOUR’S BILL.

  State-aided purchase?  That sounds mighty well
  I look on it as a State-aided Sell!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  OUR ARTISTS ARE SOMETIMES COMPENSATED FOR ALL THEY HAVE TO PUT UP WITH.

Young R.A. (newly-elected).  “WHAT, NOT SEEN OUR ROYAL ACADEMY YET, MISS VON THUMP!  DON’T YOU CARE FOR PICTURES, THEN?” Fair American.  “WELL, SOME.  BUT YOUR ROYAL ACADEMY’S RATHER CROWDED, YOU KNOW!”

Pictor Ignotus (who hates the Academy like poison), “PERHAPS MISS VON TRUMP PREFERS OUR NATIONAL GALLERY. THAT’S NOT INCONVENIENTLY CROWDED!”

Fair American.  “WELL, YES.  I LIKE TO GO AND SIT IN A NICE, COOL, QUIET, DESERTED SPOT, LIKE YOUR NATIONAL GALLERY,—­WITH A BOUND-UP VOLUME OF PUNCH!  THAT’S MY IDEA OF PICTURES!”]

* * * * *

“GENERAL ELECTION STAKES.”

A COLLOQUY ON THE COURSE.

  Mr. Punch.  Your Stable, no doubt, has of late been a winning one;
        Horses and Jockeys have both done their best.
  Trainer.  Yes; Guv’nor’s black phiz—­bless his heart!—­is a grinning one;
        All our nags answer when put to the test.
  Mr. Punch.  All?  That’s a bit of a stretch, my dear fellow.
        Wheel Tax went wrong. Compensation came down. 
      Hasn’t MATT’s riding at times turned you yellow,
        And RAIKES’s wild steering almost done you brown?
  Trainer.  Maybe, Sir, maybe!  We can’t always spot ’em,
        But average winnings come out very well. 
      On this next race, now, I fancy we’ve got ’em,
        Ah, fairly on toast, far as I can hear tell.
  Mr. Punch.  The Sanguine Old Man—­is he of your opinion? 
        And SOLLY, the owner, is he at his ease?
  Trainer.  Oh, dash the doldrums!  I scorn their dominion.