[Illustration:  AT BRIGHTON.

Tommy (to alien Visitor about to run up to Town for the day). “THIS IS THE VICTORIA PORTION, OLD SPORTSKI.  HIGHER UP FOR LONDON BRIDGEOVITCH.”]

* * * * *

BEASTS ROYAL.

V.

KING LOUIS’ PEACOCK.  A.D. 1678.

  The paven terrace of Versailles
    With tub and orange-tree,
  And Dian’s fountain tossed awry,
    Were planned and made for me;
  Since no one half so well as I
    Could grace their symmetry,
      Nor teach admiring man
      The genuine pavane.

  I know that when King Louis wears
    A Roman kilt and casque
  His smile hides many secret tears
    In ballet and in masque,
  Since to outshine my pomp appears
    So desperate a task,
      And royal robes look pale
      Beside my noble tail.

  With turquoise and with malachite,
    With bronze and purple pied,
  I march before him like the night
    In all its starry pride;
  LULLI may twang and MOLIERE write
    His pastime to provide,
      But seldom laughs the KING
      So much as when I sing.

  His fiddles brown and pipes of brass
    May LULLI now forsake,
  While I make music on the grass
    Before the storm-clouds break;
  He stops his ears and cries “Alas!”
    Because he cannot make
      With all his fiddlers fine
      A melody like mine.

  LE BRUN is watching me, I know,
    His palette on his thumb,
  To catch the glory and the glow
    That dazzle as I come;
  So be it—­but let MOLIERE go,
    And LULLI crack his drum;
      They do but waste their time;
      Minstrel I am, and mime.

  Men say the KING is like the sun,
    And from his wig they spin
  The golden webs that, one by one,
    Draw Spain and Flanders in;
  He will grow proud ere they have done,
    A most egregious sin,
      And one to which my mind
      Has never yet declined.

* * * * *

QUEER CATTLE.

    “Of the 217 sheep sold at the Sunderland Mart, yesterday, there
    was a very large percentage of heifers and bullocks.”—­Newcastle
    Daily Journal.

* * * * *

News from the Russian Front:  Pop goes the Oesel.

* * * * *

    “Chauffeur Gardener wanted, titled gentleman.”—­Glasgow Herald.

We have often mistaken a taxi-driver for a lord.

* * * * *

PRESENCE OF MIND.

The train came to one of those sudden stops in which the hush caused by the contrast between the rattle of the wheels and their silence is almost painful.  During these pauses one is conscious of conversation in neighbouring compartments, without however hearing any distinct words.