her discourse with copious extracts from the Badminton books on shooting, and adding here and there imaginative reminiscences of her own exploits in dealing death.  In the hunting-field she will lose her groom, and babble sport to the Master, with whom she further ingratiates herself by rating and lashing one of his favourite hounds, or by heading the fox whenever he attempts to break away.  She then crosses him at an awkward fence, and considers herself aggrieved by the strong language which breaks irresistibly from the fallen sportsman’s lips.  Later on she astonishes an elderly follower of the hounds by asking him for a draught from his flask, and completes his amazement by complaining of the thoughtless manner in which he has diluted his brandy.

In the evening she will narrate her adventures at length, amidst a chorus of admiring comments from her fond parents, and their parasites, and will follow up her triumphs of the day by pursuing the men into the smoking-room, where she permits one of them to offer her a cigarette, and imagines that she delights him by accepting it.  On such an occasion she will inform one of her friends that, on the whole, she has but a poor opinion of Diana of the Ephesians, seeing that she only hunted with women, and never allowed men to approach her.  From this it may be inferred that her stock of classical allusions is not quite so accurate and complete as that of a genuine sportswoman should be.  Next morning she may be seen schooling her horses in the park.  She has a touching faith in the use both of spur and of whip whenever the occasion seems least to demand them, and she despises the man who rides without rowels, and reverences one who attempts impossible jumps without discrimination.  During the summer she spends a considerable part of her time in “getting fit” for the labours of the autumn and winter.  Sometimes she even plays cricket, and has been known to address the ball that bowled her in highly uncomplimentary terms.

So the years pass on.  She never learns that it is possible for a woman on certain occasions to be in the way of men, nor does her accuracy or her care with a gun increase.  If she marries at all, she will marry some feeble creature who has no feeling for sport, and over whom she can lord it to her heart’s content.  But it is more probable that she will remain unwedded, and will develop eventually from a would-be harding-riding maiden, into a genuinely hard-featured old maid.

* * * * *

A musical Pole Star.

The Irish Polar Star Musical, yclept our Paddy REWSKI, gave his last “recital” at St. James’s Hall, Thursday, November 27.  Bedad, then, ’tis Misther Paddy REWSKI himself that is the broth of a boy entirely at the piano-forte, but, Begorra, he’s better at the piano than the forte. He gave us a nice mixture of Handel, Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt, and then a neat little compo