The Female First Cousin one remove (pointing to Half-sister’s Nephew by marriage).  He! he! he!

The Great Grandmother.  Ay! ay! ay!

The Half-sister’s Nephew by marriage (shuddering).  Oh! oh! oh!

The Brother-in-law’s Aunt (to him).  You! you! you! [The Half-sister’s Nephew by marriage descends and resolutely steps upon the Blackbeetle.  Curtain.

* * * * *

ENTETEMENT BRITANNIQUE.

RONDEAU.

  Mal a la tete, ennui, migraine,
  We risk in trying to explain
    Why, though the Income-tax is high,
    This country never can supply
  Such galleries as line the Seine.

  Yet gifts are treated with disdain,
  Which gives the would-be donors pain,—­
    We’ve now a name to call that by,
      “Mal a la TATE.”

  Next time an offer’s made in vain
  MACNEILL, or someone, will obtain,
    Or ask, at least, the reason why,
    And even dumber folks will cry,
  “By Jove! they’ve made a mull again,
     MULL a la TATE!”

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

[Illustration:  Brer Rabbit.]

Everybody who took delight in our old friend Uncle Remus will thoroughly enjoy A Plantation Printer, by JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.  The Baron doesn’t recommend it to be taken at one sitting, the dialect being rather difficult, but a chapter at a time will be found refreshing.  The like advice may be acted upon by anyone who has invested in the latest volume of the Library of Wit and Humour, entitled Faces and Places.  By H.W.  LUCY.  The “Faces” are represented by a portrait of Ride-to-Khiva BURNABY, and one of the Author of these entertaining papers.  The first brief narrative, which ought to have been called “How I met BURNABY,” is specially interesting; and the only disappointing thing in the book is the omission of “An Evening with Witches,” as a companion picture to “A Night at Watts’s.”

By the way, in my copy of A Plantation Printer, the English printer has made one slip, a sin of omission, at p. 153, where, Miss CARTER, a charming young lady, is watching a Georgian Fox-hunt.  She sees “a group of shadows, with musical voices, sweep across the Bermuda fields.”

“‘O ow beautiful!’ exclaimed Miss CARTER, clapping her little hands,” and, we may add, dropping her little “h” in her excitement.  “I can put up with the loss of an ‘h,’ but not for a wilderness of aspirates would I have lost this healthy, cheery chapter,” says

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

TO A RAILWAY FOOT-WARMER.

  At first I loved thee—­thou wast warm,—­
    The porter called thee “‘ot,” nay, “bilin.’”
  I tipped him as thy welcome form
    He carried, with a grateful smile, in.