WEEK BY WEEK.
In the course of last week it was universally remarked that the beau monde betook itself by the usual methods of conveyance to Ascot. A very smartly-appointed coach, horsed entirely by blue-black hippogriffs, attracted much attention. The lunches were of more than ordinary magnificence, and it was calculated that, during the week, no less than 5,624,907 bottles of champagne were consumed. The pigeon-pies were, as usual, composed mostly of beef.
One charming toilette was the cynosure of neighbouring eyes in the Enclosure. It was constructed of four gold galons, tastefully distributed on a blue silk ground intended to represent the Lake of Geneva. This was fringed with passementerie of the most ancient design, and picked out with minute red spots arranged in geometrical figures. The bonnet was composed of a single scrap of antique lace folded over a threepenny bit.
H.R.H. the Grand Duke of Katzenjammer, who is making a stay of several weeks in the Metropolis, in order that he may study free institutions on the spot, has been, we are informed, busily engaged in writing and answering letters during the past three days.
An interesting story, of which His Royal Highness is the hero, is going the round of the Clubs. It appears that on his arrival at the hotel in which he has established himself with his suite, the Grand Duke, whose absence of mind is well known, forgot to remunerate the cabman who had driven him. This individual, however, with the rudeness which is still, we regret to say, characteristic of the lower orders of our fellow countrymen, made repeated applications for his money, and eventually threatened to call in a policeman or to take out a summons. On this becoming known to the Grand Duke, he at once gave orders that the cabman should be ushered into his presence, and, after presenting him with a paper gulden, invested him then and there with the order of the Golden Ball, at the same time exclaiming that honesty and perseverance in humble life were always worthy of commendation. The cabman is said to have been much moved. In these democratic days, such instances of princely condescension are not without value.
We are requested by the Earl of C-v-ntr-y to state that he is sick to death of the whole business, and has eliminated the word "enclosure" from every dictionary he has been able to lay his hands on. He had intended at first to admit nobody, but was overruled, and he cannot, therefore, hold himself responsible for the presence of various people who seemed to think that they ought to be treated like unseasonable strawberries, first forced, then exhibited, and then swallowed.
An amusing incident is reported from the remote frontier village of Pusterwitz in Moldavia. A cobbler who had manufactured the boots of the Burgomaster ventured to submit his bill for payment. The populace, infuriated by this insult to their beloved Magistrate, after binding the offender in calf at the local publishing office, proceeded to slice him into small pieces with their schneide-messers (the native knife), to the immense delight of a crowd of peasants from the surrounding districts. The Burgomaster was much touched by this proof of popular devotion.
Going Too Fast.—M. Alexandre Jacques, who is announced as "a rival to Succi," is at this moment dispensing with food at the Royal Aquarium. He intends carrying out this self-denying programme for two days beyond a couple of score—possibly as a proof of his fortitude or (as a Cockney would pronounce the word) "forty-two'd." The last time this talented person dispensed with sustenance, was in Edinburgh, when he did not partake of any meal in the Douglas Hotel for thirty days—a feat, one would think, that must have been more interesting to the Medical Profession than the proprietor of the hostelry. However, as M. Jacques fought for his country in 1870-71, he should be a most pleasant guest for the next six weeks or so to dinner-givers with a taste for economy.