And here, attracted by a quaintly-designed cover, the Baron takes up Ballads from Punch, and other Poems, by WARHAM ST. LEGER, published by DAVID STOTT.  That a considerable number of these have appeared in Mr. Punch’s pages, by whose kind permission they are reprinted, is quite sufficient guarantee for their excellence. The Lay of the Lost Critic, The Plaint of the Grand Piano, are capital specimens of the author’s humour, and Christmas Eve of his true pathos.  No influence of American humour visible in any of these.  As a rule, the Baron doesn’t recommend betting, but advises his readers to go in for this St. Leger.

The contents of The Universal Review this month are varied, interesting, but not sensational.  The article on Westminster Abbey, by FREDERICK GEORGE LEE, D.D., with its humorous notes and observations, will have a charm for many readers, and so will that on the painter BERNADINO LUINI.  The novel entitled, The Wages of Sin, is now at the first chapter of the fifth book, and there is an illustration representing a lady in a Victoria pulling up in Waterloo Place.  Underneath is the legend—­“She leaned forward smiling, beckoning as the Victoria drew up against the curb.”  First, she is not leaning forward; secondly, she doesn’t appear to be “smiling;” thirdly, she doesn’t seem to be “beckoning;” and, fourthly, though the horse is being pulled back, probably on the “curb,” yet, if the author means that the carriage is being pulled up against the pavement, then why didn’t he say so, and write it “kerb?” I like being a trifle hypercritical just now and then, says THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

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AN INTERNATIONAL HERO.

There has been recently a discussion in The World as to where Cox and Box (for which Sir ARTHUR wrote some of his best music) first saw the light.  It was decided in favour of the Librettist at whose residence the Triumviretta was given privately, in presence of a distinguished audience.  But there was one person who might have given invaluable evidence, and that was Box himself.  Why did he not step forward?  Where was he?  The explanation is given in the Paris Figaro of Thursday, July 17:—­

    “M.  Box, le nouveau Ministre d’Haiti a Paris, a ete recu hier
    matin par le President de la Republique.”

Of course, Cox will receive an appointment.  Perhaps M. Box banks at Cox’s.  Will Sergeant-Major BOUNCER be gazetted to the Hayti’eth Regiment?  Whatever may be in store for these immortal personages, it is satisfactory to know that, for the present, Box at least is provided for.  It was like his true British nature not to disguise his identity under some such gallicised form of his name as BOITE, or LOGE.  There is, perhaps, no surname in our language so truly national as Box.  “JOHN BOX” might well be substituted for “JOHN BULL.”  It is characteristic of our British pugilism. Vive M. Box!