Here we are at the Lodge. But, hulloah! what's this uproar on the lawn? A herd of deer dashing wildly over everything, flowerbeds and all, and, yes, absolutely five of them bursting into the house, through one of the drawing-room windows, while JEPSON and the two kirk Ministers emerge hurriedly, terrified, from the other. Crash! And what's that? Why, surely it can't be—but yes, I believe it is—yes, it positively is the Chief's pickaxe that has flown through the air, and just smashed through the upper panes, scattering the glass in a thousand fragments in all directions!
And thus ends my Stalking for the Present, and (probably) the Future!
BLACK SYRENS.
This is how the lovely and accomplished Miss B——ns (of ——, Portland Place) managed to defray the expenses of their Sea-side Trip, this Autumn, without anybody being any the wiser!
"O-HI-O! O-HI-HO!
THERE NEVER WAS A FINER
GIRL THAN DINAH,
DOWN BY THE OHIO!"