Next Day.—Authorities have heard how I escaped from Hospital last night. Also Porter—the idiot!—has complained that he goes in fear of his life because of my threats. On the whole, Hospital Authorities come to conclusion to ask me to leave, as "they think I am not fitted for Collegiate life," and I quite agree with them. Pack up, and pack off.
"UNCO GUID!"
Southerner (in Glasgow, to Friend). "By the way, do you know McScrew?" Northerner. "Ken McScrew?" Oo' fine! A graund man, McScrew! Keeps the Sawbath, —an' everything else he can lay his Hands on!"
Quite a little Holiday.—The unfortunate Vacation Judge this year has been detained at Court or Chambers five times a week instead of (as in the olden days) thrice a fortnight. He must appreciate the meaning of "getting his head into Chancery"—and his wig too!