appeared.  For my part, I long ago came to the conclusion that Sam Weller was absolutely an original creation, as far, that is, as anything outside the immaterial realms of fancy and fairyland can be an original creation.  Our FITZ gives CALVERLEY’s Examination Paper, and also an Oxford imitation of it, which, however, is not by any means up to the CALVERLEY-BLADES mark.  There is also a preface to Pickwick, specially interesting, as not being found in later editions.  Then our Fitz informs us how many dramatic versions of Pickwick there have been, some with and some without music, bringing the list down to the latest “Dramatic Cantata” (it oughtn’t to have been so described, as there was dialogue in it), the music of which will always hold a first place among the compositions of the Musical Baron’s friend claiming to be the gifted descendant of the Wise and Musical King SOLOMON.

Altogether a vote of thanks should be presented to Mr. PERCY FITZGERALD for his entertaining, instructive, and most readable book on the immortal Pickwick, says THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  TELEPHONIC COMMUNICATION.

Husband (off to Paris).  “DON’T CRY, DARLING.  IT’S TOO SAD TO LEAVE YOU, I KNOW!  BUT YOU CAN TALK TO ME THERE JUST AS IF WE WERE TOGETHER—­ONLY BE CAREFUL, AS IT’S EXPENSIVE!”

Wife.  “IS IT, DARLING?  HA-HA-HADN’T YOU BETTER LEAVE ME A FEW BLANK CHEQUES?”]

* * * * *

TALKING BY TIME.

The growing pressure of the business having already obliged the Belgium Postal Authorities to cut down the time allowed for a telephonic communication between Paris and Brussels, from five minutes to three, it is to be presumed that the rush of public patronage that may be expected when the wire is opened between London and the French Capital, will soon necessitate the substitution, in place of the promised ten minutes, of an allowance to each speaker of a minute, or at most a minute and a half for his interview, which it may confidently be expected will not unfrequently take the following shape:—­

Inexorable Official.  Now, Sir; your turn next.

    [Shuts intending London Talker in, and switches him “on."

London Talker.  Dear me!  How quick they are, one hardly knows what one is about.  I wonder how loud, now, one ought to speak.  Better shout.  Anyhow, I’ll try that first. (At the top of his voice through the tube.) Hullo!  Hi!  I say.  Are you there?

Paris Listener (replying).  Oh! don’t bawl like that.  Of course I’m here, I’ve been waiting quite half a minute; thought you were never going to begin.  But I suppose it is JONES I am speaking to?

London Talker.  Oh yes, I’m JONES.  It’s all right.  But can’t you recognise my voice?

Paris Listener.  Not when you bawl fit to break the drum of one’s ear.  But come, now, get on quick with what you want to say.