If I could keep my place (and pay),
Patient diplomacy to ply,
I would not leave thee though I say
Good-bye, sweet Porte, good-bye!
Grandolph's Teachings.—When you rush in to dress at five minutes to eight, and you are to dine two miles off at eight sharp, when your shoe-strings break, your studs roll on the floor, your links refuse to catch, and you suddenly discover an iron-mould in the centre of your shirt-front, then when a sweet patient voice from the other room says, "O my dear! don't use such awful language!" then bethink you of Grandolph, and explain that your fervent utterances were only "blessings in disguise."
Covent Garden Opera.—Mr. Punch's advice,—if Lohengrin is given again, with the same cast as it had last Saturday, go and hear it. A real treat.