[Mr. F., seeing that explanation is useless, lets himself out again, precipitately, dodges the Policeman, and bolts, favoured by the fog, until all danger of pursuit is passed, at the end of which time he suddenly realises that it is perfectly hopeless to attempt to find his own carriage again.  He gropes his way home, and some hours later, after an extemporised cold supper, is rejoined by his Wife.

Mrs. F. (cheerfully).  So there you are, MARMADUKE!  I wasn’t anxious—­I felt sure you’d find your way back somehow!

Mr. F. (not in the best of tempers).  Find my way back!  It was the only thing I could do.  But where have you been all this time, FANNY?

Mrs. F. Where?  Why, at the BLEWITTS, to be sure!  You see, after you got out, we had to keep moving on, and by-and-by the fog got better, and we could see where we were going to,—­and the BLEWITTS had put off dinner half an hour, so I was not so very late.  Such a nice dinner!  Everybody turned up except you, MARMADUKE—­but I told them how it was.  Oh, and old Lady HOREHOUND was there, and said a man had actually got into her brougham, and tried to wrench off one of her bracelets!—­only she spoke to him so severely that he was struck with remorse, or something, and got out again!  And it was by the Park, close to where you left me.  Just fancy, MARMADUKE, he might have got into the carriage with me, instead!

Mr. F. (gloomily).  Yes, he might—­only, he—­er—­didn’t, you know!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  BITING SARCASM.

Gentleman with the Broom (who has inadvertently splashed the Artist’s favourite Shipwreck).  “OW YUS!  I SUPPOSE YER THINK YE’RE THE PRESIDENT O’ THE ROY’L ACADERMY!  A SETTIN THERE IN THE LAP ER LUXURY!!”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “A GOOD LITTLE ’UN IS BETTER THAN A BAD BIG ’UN.”—­(P.R.  Maxim.)

A BIT OF MODERN BOXIANA.]

“110-Ton Guns do not count for any practical purpose....  These monsters are the laughing-stock of everyone who takes the smallest interest in the subject.  They are quite indefensible, and not worth making, even if they were unobjectionable, for the simple reason that everything we require can be done by smaller weapons....  It is believed that more of these useless monsters are to be made by way of reserve.  It is an insane policy, designed simply to save somebody’s amour propre, and we still hope to hear from Lord GEORGE HAMILTON that it has been abandoned.”—­“The Times” on the Naval Estimates.

“That a good little ’un is better than a bad big ’un,” is an old and accepted maxim amongst the really knowing ones of the P.R.  It is one, however, that now, as of yore, swell backers, self-conceited amateurs, and other pugilistic jugginses ore apt to ignore or forget.