He. I daresay; the Press men generally get their figures right.
She. But if, theoretically, everything is right, why should most things be practically wrong?
He. You must really ask me another.
She. But you are strong upon health, are you not?
He. Very—in the lecture-room. And now, if you are rested, we will have another turn.
[Exeunt dancing.
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday, July 30.—Having settled Budget Bill, and, incidentally, brought Chancellor of Exchequer to Death's Door by observations on Death Duties, Tommy Bowles has time to turn his attention to another social question. Looks as if he were going to take the Bicycle Fiend by the scruff of the neck. Herein he has opportunity of deepening and enlarging his hold on affection and esteem of British public. Bicycle Fiend has increased, is increasing, and, at least, ought to be registered. He comes upon the hapless rider or pedestrian in quiet country lanes, brushing him aside as if the earth were the Fiend's and all the highways thereof. Bad enough in the country, where there is room to get out of the way. In crowded streets of metropolis, Fiend pounces round unsuspected corners upon elderly gentlemen, scattering streams of peaceful passengers at peremptory sound of fearsome bell.