had said, when speaking of them: "The one is a madman, the other is a thief."

M.

"That shall not pass in this way!" exclaimed

...

"And how then do you wish it to pass?" said N.

"I shall obtain satisfaction from Mr. P. . . . I will fight him!”

"He will refuse to fight with his subordinate." “Well! I am going to tender my resignation." "You are mad."

“What did you say?"

"Are you going to pick a quarrel with me also?"

"No; I wish to know what you said to me." "I said to you: You are mad."

"Then I am satisfied, and I shall not demand anything from Mr. P. . .

"How? What do you mean?"

“Mr. P. . . . said, in speaking of us: The one is a madman, the other is a thief. You say that I am the madman; therefore you are the other; it is your business to be angry."

CXI.

A LESSON IN PAINTING.

Travelling in Switzerland, Horace Vernet one day was amusing himself by taking some sketches on the banks of the Lake of Geneva.

Some young English ladies were drawing at a few steps from the place where he had stopped.

One of them comes near, looks at what he is doing, and begins, whilst encouraging him, to give him some advice. The artist listens to her in the most serious manner in the world, and thanks her with perfect courtesy.

The next day he embarks for Lausanne, and he meets again his little professor of the previous evening, who hastens towards him, saying: "Sir, you who are a Frenchman, you must know Horace Vernet: they say that he is on board; be then good enough to point him out to me." "You are very anxious to see him?" "Oh! yes." Well, Miss, it is he who has had the honour of receiving a lesson from you yesterday morning," replied he, laughing.

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One can easily guess the confusion of the poor girl on hearing those words.

CXII.

DR. ABERNETHY.

Dr. Abernethy was well known for his laconism. He detested long consultations and use`less details.

A lady, knowing this peculiarity, calls upon him to consult him about a serious wound which a dog had made in her arm.

She enters without saying anything, uncovers the wounded part, and places it under the doctor's eyes. Dr. Abernethy looks at it for an instant, then he says: "Scratch?" "Bite." "Cat?" "Dog." To-day?" Yesterday."

"Painful?"

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66 "No."

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The Doctor was so delighted with this conversation that he could almost have embraced the lady.

He did not at all like to be disturbed in the night-time. Once when he was going to bed at one o'clock in the morning, in a very bad humour because he had been roused at midnight, he heard the night-bell ring.

"What is the matter?"

he exclaimed

angrily. "Doctor, . . . . quick! quick!

....

My son has just swallowed a mouse." "Well, tell him to swallow a cat, and leave me in peace!"

CXIII.

THE LORD MAYOR.

Foote, the actor, travelling in the western part of England, stops at an inn to dine. When he wished to settle his bill, the innkeeper asked him if he were satisfied.

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Nobody in England has dined like me,” said Foote.

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'Except the lord mayor, however," said the innkeeper.

"I except no one."

"You must except the lord mayor." Foote got into a rage. "Not even the lord mayor," said he, emphasising each syllable.

The quarrel became so hot that the innkeeper, who was a magistrate, took him before the mayor of the place.

"Mr. Foote," said this venerable magistrate to him, "you must know that in this town it has been a custom, dating from time immemorial, always to make an exception in favour of the lord mayor; and so that you may not forget another time our ways and customs, I sentence you to pay a fine of one shilling, or to five hours' imprisonment, at your choice."

Foote, exasperated, saw himself obliged to pay the fine. He went out of the hall saying: "I don't know in all England a greater fool than that innkeeper except the lord mayor,” added he, turning respectfully towards his lordship.

CXIV.

PERSISTING MOURNING.

There was at the offices of the Minister of the Interior a clerk distinguished for his handwriting. The minister had placed this clerk in his own office, and was making his wonderful pen useful for dictations.

One day the minister sent for his clerk. The head-clerk came and said to the minister: “X. . . . . has not come; his father is dead.” The minister bowed before this mournful excuse. At the end of a month the minister asked for X.... The head-clerk replied: “X.... has not come; his father is dead.” "Ah! yes, remember," said the minister, who commenced to wonder at such prolonged mourning.

I

Three weeks after, the minister asked for X....; the head-clerk replied, according to the formula: "X... has not come: his father is dead." "Bye the bye!" said the minister, "will he not return to his desk so long as his father is dead?"

CXV.

PHILOSOPHICAL DANCING-MASTER.

Everybody remembers the exclamation of the famous Marcel, who, seeing one of his scholars dancing, pressed his hand upon his forehead and exclaimed, "How many things in a minuet!" By the gait this enthusiastic dancer pretended to know the character of a man. A stranger presents himself one day in his dancing-room. "To what country do you. belong?" asks Marcel of him. "I am an Englishman." "You English! You belong to that island where the citizens have a share in