The Baron says that he has scarcely been able to get through the first morning of The Last Days of Palmyra, which story, so far, reminds him—­it being the fashion just now to mention Cardinal NEWMAN’s works—­of the latter’s Callista.  And a propos of Callista let me refer my readers to one of the best written articles on the Cardinal that I have seen.  It is to be found in Good Words for October, and is by Mr. R.H.  HUTTON.  The Baron is coaching himself up for a visit to the Lyceum to see Ravenswood, of which, on all hands, he hears so much that is good.  What a delightful scene where Caleb steals the wild-fowl from the spit, and the subsequent one, where Dame Lightbody cuffs the astonished little bairn’s head!  “As fresh to me,” protests the Baron, “laughing in my chair, as I have been doing but a minute ago, as it was when I read it, the Council and Kirk-session only know how long ago!” And this farcical scene was considered so “grotesquely and absurdly extravagant” by Sir WALTER’s contemporary critics (peace be to their hashes!  Who were they?  What were their names?  Who cares?) that the great novelist actually explains how the incident was founded on one in real life.

Now to my books.  Gadzooks, what’s here?  Another volume of Obiter Dicta? By one author this time, for if my memory fails me not, the previous little book was writ by two scribes.  Well, no matter—­or rather lots of matter—­and by AUGUSTINE BIRRELL, who represents Obiter and Dicta too.  With an unclassical false quantity anyone who so chooses to unscholarise himself, can speak of him as the O’Biter, so sharp and pungent are some of his remarks.  Ah! here is something on LAMB.  For me, quoth the Baron, LAMB is always in season, serve up the dish with what trimmings you may, but, if you please, no sauce.  Size and shape are the only things against friend Obiter.  It is not what this sort of book ought to be, portable and potable, like the craftily qualified contents of a pocket-flask, refreshing on a tedious journey.  Had Obiter been the size of either The Handy Volume Shakspeare, or of Messrs. ROUTLEDGE’S Redbacks—­both the Baron’s prime favourites—­the Baron would have been able to dip into it more frequently, as he would into that same pocket-flask aforementioned.

“Next, please!” BLACKIE’S Modern Cyclopedia.  Vol.  VII., so we’re getting along.  I’ll just cast my eye over it; one eye, not two, says the Baron, out of compliment to the Cyclops.  This Volume deals with the letters “P,” “R,” “S,” and any person wishing to master a few really interesting subjects for dinner conversation will read and learn up all about Procyon, Pizemysi, and Pyrheliometer, Quotelet, Quintal, and Quito, Regulus, Ramazan, Rheumatism, Rhynchops, Rum-Shrub, and Rupar, Samoyedes, Semiquaver, Sahjehanpur, Silket, Sinter, and Size.  When it is known what a gay conversationalist he is, he may induce some one to put him up for a cheery Club, where he will be Blackie-balled.  Still, by studying the Cyclopedia carefully, with a view to being ready with words for charades and dumb-crambo during the festive Christmas-tide, he may once again achieve a certain amount of popularity, on which, as on fresh laurels, he had better retire.