FINAL ORDERS.
Keeper (to Boy out for his first day's driving). "Mind and Spread yerself out!"
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
"Sir," said a wisely deferential friend of the Baron's, approaching the Baronial arm-chair wherein sat His Super-Excellency regaling himself in truly Regal-Cole-ian fashion, "Sir, I present to your notice a book entitled In Search of a Climate." "With such a title," quoth the Baron, in poetic humour, "it should have been dedicated to His Grace of Canterbury. Would not this distich well favour the title-page? Listen:—
| "'In Search of a Climate,' | From Charles B. Nottage, |
| This to the Primate! | Who lives in a cottage." |
"W. A.," or "The Wisely Appreciative," went into wisely appreciative ecstasies. "Baron," he presently resumed, "you will be graciously pleased to read it." "I will recline on my sofa," returned the Baron, "and, in that position, do my level best." So saying, His Super-Excellency suited the action to the word, and, waving his hand in token that he was not to be disturbed for the space of some forty winks or more, he bent his head in silent study o'er the somewhat bulky volume. "One of the most interesting and instructive chapters in this excellently elaborated book of reference," said the Baron, some time afterwards—"a book full of 'wise saws and modern instances'—is that headed 'Religion and Rum,' whence it appears that, whatever form of worship the Natives from time to time might adopt, it always included the cult of spirits in some form or other. The title of this chapter," observed the Baron, judicially, "instead of 'Religion and Rum,' should rather have been 'Rum Religions, or Spirituous Influences.' Towards the close of the book the author still seems to be In Search of a Climate. But what sort of a climate does he seek? One to suit everybody? Why, like the distinguished individual who was 'terribly disappointed with the Atlantic,' there are people, quoted as testimony above proof by Mr. Nottage, of the Cottage, who were 'all terribly disappointed with the climate of Santa Barbara and Los Angeles.' Well, then," quoth the Baron, "try Margate and Ramsgate." The book, attractively got up, is published by the firm whose name always recalls to the Baron's verse-atile mind that delightful poem set to dulcet music yclept "Soft and Low, Soft and Low," only that the names are Samp-son Low, Low & Co., which, set to the same strain, will "do as well." "And," quoth the Baron, suddenly inspired, "what a series of songs for Publishers and Bookbinders might be written! For example, 'My Mother bids me bind my books!' 'I am inter-leaving thee in sorrow.' Cum multis aliis suggestionibus! But this is délassement. Let our toast be, 'Our noble Shelves!'—'our noble Book-shelves!'" explains the Baron, gaily; and so back to the Brown Study where, as Baron Brown Beard, he disposes of the various heads in his department, and signs himself, The Just and Generous Baron de Book-Worms.