LOTHARIO on his knees to his dearest friend’s Wife.  Enter Husband.

* * * * *

“TEXTUEL.”—­Mr. TOOLE was horrified at overhearing portions of a conversation between two Gentlemen who were evidently provincial Managers, one of whom was saying, “Yes, I agree with you.  We have settled to re-open our pits at a reduction of ten per cent.”  “I beg pardon, Gentlemen,” anxiously put in the Comedian, who had just returned from the race-course, having been tooled down to Epsom and back on a drag; “but I am going on tour, and if the price of admission to the pit is to be so largely reduced—­” Then they explained to him that they were Wenham Coal-owners.  Mr. J.L.  TOOLE was immensely relieved, and immediately invited his two acquaintances to partake of refreshment on board the Houseboat now moored off King William Street, Charing Cross.

* * * * *

“TE DUCE,” &c.—­Old Pupils who were at “Balston’s,” are requested by Lord DUCIE to hurry up with their subscriptions to Memorial in Eton College Chapel.  A Ducie’d good idea.

* * * * *

CLEAR CASE OF SUPERSTITION.—­Mr. GLADSTONE trusting to “SHIPTON’s” Prophecies.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “INNINGS CLOSED.”

RIGHT HON.  ARTHUR B.  “DON’T YOU THINK IT’S TIME TO DECLARE THIS
INNINGS CLOSED?”]

* * * * *

THE CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER.

NO.  XI.—­THE DUFFER IN LOVE.

Mrs. MCDUFFER never greatly admired the lady with whom this confession is concerned.  She denies that CECILIA BRAND was pretty, and when I do not answer (for where is the use of argument in such a case?), she remarks that I am too short-sighted to know whether a woman is pretty or not.  This appears to myself to be an injudicious assertion, and the flank of my opponent might be turned if it were worth while.  But it is not worth while.  A Duffer I may be, but not such a duffer as to reason with a woman.  If you score a point (and how many times one sees an opening in the fair one’s harness), a woman is angry, or cries, or both, and there is no repartee to that ultima ratio.

[Illustration:  “It was while thus engaged that I heard a sound of female voices.”]

I maintain, then, that CECILIA was pretty, and very pretty; pleasant, and very pleasant.  No doubt she keeps those qualities yet.  I do not believe in the syllogism by which a man persuades himself that he was a fool, that he had a lucky escape, that a girl becomes quite another person, and usually very stout and stupid, because she has preferred someone else to himself.  No, if we met to-morrow—­But Fortune forbid that we should meet to-morrow, or any other day!  I have no relics of CECILIA.  I had some,—­an old glove, a lash of a riding-switch, and other trifles.  I kept them in the secret drawer of a bureau, and in my absence that bureau