“Come to me, O ye children,” as some one sings—­ARTHUR CECIL for choice—­and it might be adapted for the occasion by the Publishers of Chatterbox, in which box there’s a prize.  Messrs. ROUTLEDGE go in for the old, old tales.  They’ve kindly given Mother Hubbard a new dress; and as for their Panorama of the “Beasteses,” it is like a picture-walk in the Zoo. Some Historic Women, well selected by DAVENPORT ADAMS, who should have styled it Christmas Eves by Adams.  With Mrs. MOLESWORTH’s Bewitched Lamp the Baron’s Assistant is much pleased.  Pictures ought to have been in oil, and there should have been a Wicked Fairy in it,—­but there isn’t.

My “Co.” reports that Mrs. GRIMWOOD’s long-expected book, My Three Years in Manipur (BENTLEY), is worthy of the theme, and adds a fresh laurel to the chaplet worn by the lady on whose breast the QUEEN pinned the Red Cross.  The moving story is told with a simplicity that looks like the development of the highest art.  But the heroine of Manipur is unmistakably artless.  She is content to jot down, as if she were writing a letter home, her impressions of what she sees, and her account of what passes before her eyes.  She has the gift of reproducing with a few strokes of the pen, portraiture of anything that has struck her.  The only thing missed is detailed report of her own brave bearing through the fearful night when the Residency was attacked, and during the dreadful days that followed on the flight towards Cachar.  No one reading Mrs. GRIMWOOD’s narrative would guess what splendid part she played in that tragedy.  Fortunately that has been told elsewhere, and the omission is an added charm to a book that has many others—­including a portrait of the author.

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS AND CO.

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CIVIL SERVICE EXHIBITION.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,—­The Military Exhibition was such a success, and the Naval Exhibition was such a successor, that we Government Clerks invoke your powerful aid to help us to establish next year a Civil Service Exhibition.  The Public have really no idea what wondrous curiosities there are in the Civil Service, and would, I feel sure, be amused and instructed at a well-organised and representative Exhibition.  At 10.15 A.M. they would see real live Clerks sign real Attendance-Books, and insert (real or unreal) times of arrival.  In the course of the morning there might be an Exhibition of Civil Servants over sixty-five years of age, who didn’t want to retire, with a similar number of Civil Servants, of fifty-five years of age, who didn’t want them to stay.  In the afternoon, in the Arena, would daily be attempted the difficult feat of proceeding from the Second Division to the Higher Division.  The obstacles would be represented by real Treasury Clerks and Civil Service Commissioners, holding Orders in Council and Treasury Minutes; and the Clerk successful in performing the feat might be created a Duke.