Like "Uncle Tom"—nay,
You think what your own horses do,
But we—there, get along with you!
Allez vous promener!
Change Its Name!—An estate in the Island of Fowlness, Essex, of 382 acres, was put up to auction last week, and, according to the Daily News there was only one bid at a little short of eight pounds per acre. "The property was withdrawn." This step was judicious and correct. It was an act of fairness to Fowlness. But then, does it sound nice for anyone to say, "I'm living in the midst of Fowlness"? It may be a Paradise, but it doesn't sound like it.
MISUNDERSTOOD.
Little Girl. "Oh, Mamma, I'm so glad you had such a pleasant Dinner at the Vicarage. And—who took you in?"