Don’t quite see myself why the Count should be so horrified on learning that the person he has just had executed was his long-lost brother.  It is not as if they had ever been friendly, or were at all likely to become so, considering their previous relations.  Depend upon it, when he has time to think the matter over calmly, he will recognise that things are better as they are, and that Fate has solved his domestic difficulties in the only possible manner.  A Troubadour Brother, with a revengeful and quite unpresentable gipsy foster-mother, would have proved very trying persons to live with.

* * * * *

“A CHIEL’S AMANG YE MAKING NOTES.”—­Sir ARTHUR SULLIVAN sat next to Sir HENRY HAWKINS during part of the recent sensational trial at the Ancient Bailey, making, of course not taking, notes.  Sir HENRY occasionally conversed with the Knight of Music.  Did the latter hum, sotto voce, “And a good Judge too!” with other selections from Trial by Jury?  Everyone glad Sir ARTHUR is so well.  Perhaps after this he will return to Real Eccentric Gilbertian Opera, and go away for “change of air.”  The “Carte” is at the door, ready to take him, but his original “Gee Gee” has gone to America.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE!”

  “This Garter, brighter from the knee
  Of him who uttered nothing—­important.”]

"Mister” Rosebery, loquitur:—­

  A Star and Garter!  Here’s a go! 
    Well, well, no doubt ’twas to be worn meant;
    And, as mere personal adornment,
  It does look smartish, dontcher know!

  All personal adornment’s vain,
    Held Dr. WATTS, holds dear McDOUGALL;
    For dowdy dress and habits frugal
  Befit the Democratic strain.

  And I’m a Democrat—­of course! 
    The BENJAMIN FRANKLIN of the Peerage! 
    And yet—­ah! truly ’tis a queer age—­
  Decoration has some force!

  I wonder what the L.C.C. 
    Will say to this!  That I should spurn it? 
    JOHN BURNS may swear I ought to burn it. 
  Still—­it looks natty round my knee.

  I need not wear it when I sit
    Among the broadcloth’d heirs of BUMBLE! 
    But Foreign Minister too humble
  Were butt of diplomatic wit.

  Battersea’s pride my pride may scourge. 
    Well—­he may find he’s caught a Tartar. 
    A robe—­a coronet—­a garter!—­
  Materials for a new “PRIDE’S PURGE”!

  The keen-eyed Democratic lynx
    May watch me with alert suspicion,
    As but a half-disguised patrician,
  But—­shame to him who evil thinks!

[Left posturing complacently.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  SOMETHING LIKE A MOUNT.

Sportsman (with gun).  “HILLO, ALGIE, BEEN CUB-HUNTING?  HOW DOES THE YOUNG ’UN GO?”