[But, at this awful prospect, consternation seizes the men.  CHALMERS (the host) makes frantic signs to his wife, who (having, somehow, been “squared”) affects not to see.  A few desperate attempts are made to express a polite joy; but the lunch languishes, and, darkness closet over the melancholy scene.

* * * * *

A NAVAL INQUIRY.—­The Howe and the why?

* * * * *

THE VANISHING RUPEE.—­A CRY FROM INDIA.

A Colonel laments the disappearance of the Rupee, and shows how, whenever he had a step up in his Regiment (each time growing in importance and having more calls on his purse), the Rupee at once took a step down, decreasing in importance and reputation.

[Illustration:  I.—­SUBALTERN.]

  As a “Sub,” free from family ties,
    With constant “fivers” from the Pater,
  The Rupee I thought a goodly size,
    Though once its value was much greater.

[Illustration:  II.—­CAPTAIN.]

  Raised to Captain’s rank, it so fell out
    I fell in love with the Station belle,[1]
  Got spliced; the Rupee, at once, no doubt,
    In spite, not in love, but value fell.

[Illustration:  III.—­MAJOR.]

  Children came, money went, all U P,
    I thought, when promotion brought more pay
  (What luck!); but that slippery Rupee
    Decreased more visibly from that day.

[Illustration:  IV.—­COLONEL.]

  Cramming!  Schooling!  Bills by every post! 
    But now, as Colonel, I think I see
  My way; but I count without my host. 
    Vanished, like a ghost, has the Rupee!

[Footnote 1:  By this I do not mean the Barmaid who presides over the stale buns at our Railway Refreshment-room; I refer to the prettiest girl at the Military Station where I was quartered.]

* * * * *

PREMIER AND PHYSICIAN.

(IMAGINARY REPORT OF AN UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE INTERVIEW.)

So you got through your labours at Oxford, my dear friend, without feeling any ill effects?—­Certainly, never enjoyed myself more.  Everyone paid the deepest attention.  One Don actually used an ear-trumpet.

Well, and what do you intend doing next?—­Oh, lots of things.  You see my Parliamentary work is next to nothing—­not a moment more than ten hours a-day.  So I must do something with my spare time.

Certainly, I have no objection.  But I should like to hear your programme.—­I have only got it into form for a week or so.  Before the end of the year I shall have it ship-shape.  But say for November.  Shall we say November?

Certainly.  What do you propose doing in November?—­Well, I think I shall retranslate the works of HOMER, and write an exhaustive article in the Encylopaedia Britannica (new edition) on the “Life of WELLINGTON.”