The conversation is broken up.]
THINGS TO BE BORNE IN MIND IN AUGUST.
About the 10th, look for falling stars—not various actors, authors, and singers I could name, but shooting meteors. If they do not appear, you must blame them, and not me.
Towards the 12th, tell all your friends how deuced disagreeable it is to be tied by the leg from pressure of business, and not able to accept an invitation to the Highlands, where a thousand acres of grouse have been preserved on purpose for you.
About the end, buy a guinea shooting-jacket, and hang it about your room. Also keep an old gun, to be cleaning whenever your friends call.
By the way, if you should go to the North, avoid buying one of those shooting-jackets said, in the advertisements, to resemble the "bonnie heather," because your back, being seen in motion, may be taken by an inexperienced friend for a bush with a bird in it, and you will probably receive the contents of his double-barrel in the neighbourhood of your lumbar vertebræ.
VIRGO—Unmatched enjoyment.
HISTORICAL MEMORANDA:
KINDLY FURNISHED TO THE EDITOR BY THE MEMBERS OF THE OLD
ORIGINAL "ARCHÆOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION," RESPECTING
THE NEW HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT.
According to Fitzwalker, a monk who wrote in the middle ages, the first House of Commons was so called from having been the only house in the centre of the commons, which formed the site of the present city of Westminster. It was built by King Cole, from a portion of the ruins of Thebes, whence the stones were brought in that monarch's one-horse chaise to save expense; and as only one could be carried at a time, the journeys backwards and forwards took many years. Subsequently, a peculiar species of cake was manufactured there for the king, termed parliament; and from the officers of state being accustomed to eat this during their debates, the senate took its name. This structure was burnt down in 1834, by catching fire from the inflammatory speech of an Irish member; and its rebuilding was entrusted to Mr. Barry, the celebrated clown at Astley's. Much speculation has taken place as to whether the lady of this clever pantomimist and architect is the one addressed by Mr. Tennyson, in "Locksley Hall," in the line—