Have been made on successive nights a Druid, a Forester, and a Loyal and Ancient Shepherd.  All these three are Benefit Societies, and the mysteries of initiation into each are very similar.  Colonel CHORKLE (who ought to have gone through the business long ago) was made a Druid with me.  I never saw anybody so nervous.  All the courage of all the CHORKLES seemed to have deserted him, and he trembled like a Volunteer aspen.  I told Major WORBOYS on the following day that his Colonel, who I was sure might be trusted to face a hostile battery without flinching, had been very nervous when he was made a Druid.  WORBOYS sneered, and said that he’d be willing to take his chance of CHORKLE’s facing the battery or not, if CHORKLE would only learn to ride decently.  “Give you my word of honour,” said WORBOYS, “when the General inspected us last year, CHORKLE’s horse ran away with him three times, and at last we had to march past without him.  One of the tamest horses in the world, too.  My boy JACK rides it constantly.”  But WORBOYS despises CHORKLE, and thinks he ought to command the regiment himself.  He spread it all over Billsbury that CHORKLE was found hiding under a table when he was summoned to be initiated, and was dragged out screaming piteously for mercy.

On my last morning I was interviewed by a deputation from the Billsbury Branch of The Women’s Suffrage League.  The deputation consisted of Mrs. BOSER, the President of the Branch, Miss AMY GINGELL, the Secretary, and two others.  It was a trying business.  Mrs. BOSER is the most formidable person I ever met.  I felt like a babe in her hands after she had glowered at me for five minutes.  Finally I found myself, rather to my own astonishment, promising to vote for a Women’s Suffrage Bill, and adding that Mrs. BOSER’s arguments had convinced me that justice had in this matter been too long denied to women, and that for my part, if elected, I should lose no opportunity of recording my vote on the side of women.  They seemed pleased, but the Meteor of the next day had a frightful leader about the “shameful want of moral fibre in a Conservative Candidate who was thus content to put the whole Constitution into the melting-pot, if by so doing he could only secure a few stray votes, and get the help of the women in his coal-and-blanket expeditions.”

* * * * *

THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.

NO.  I.

    SCENE—­An Excursion Agents’ Offices.  Behind the counters
    polite and patient Clerks are besieged by a crowd of Intending
    Tourists, all asking questions at once.

First Int.  T. Here—­have you made out that estimate for me yet?

Clerk.  In one moment, Sir. (He refers to a list, turns over innumerable books, jots down columns of francs, marks, and florins; reduces them to English money, and adds them up.) First class fares on the Rhine, Danube and Black Sea steamers, I think you said, second class rail, and postwagen?