When I recover, I really must call at Lambeth for fuller directions. The archiepiscopal remedy for angry passions does not seem invariably happy in its results, as far as my experience goes.
The Malt-Liquor-Tippler's Maxim.—"Nihil ale-ienum a me pewter":—"Nothing in the shape of beer comes amiss to me if it's in a pewter."
A Chip to the Champion.
[Mr. Ranjitsinhji is running Mr. W. G. Grace very close in the batting averages.]
To the ancient air of "Cheer up Sam!"
Buck-up, Grace!
And don't let your average down!
For "Ranjit" seems running you hard for first place,
To collar your Cricketing Crown!
"Proud o' the Title."—Sir Henry James to be "Lord Jeames." How delighted W. M. Thackeray would have been!