CORRESPONDENCE

If you please, sir, as a young visitor to the metropolis, and well acquainted with history, I want to ask you—

Who is the Constable of the Tower?

What is his number?

Is he dressed like other constables?

Can he run anyone in, and make them move on if found loitering on his beat?

Is his beat all round the Tower?

Is he a special? one of the force de tour, empowered to use a tour de force? (You see I am well up in French.)

I saw a very amiable-looking policeman cracking nuts in the vicinity of the Tower. Do you think this was the constable in question?

Yours,

Rusty Cuss in Urbe.

P.S.—Pantheon means a place where all the gods are. I know Greek. The Pantheon in Regent Street I find is now a wine merchant's. Is England exclusively devoted to Bacchus, and is temperance a heresy?

On the Ninth.

Freddy. "And do they have a new Lord Mayor every year, mummie?"

Mother. "Yes, dear."

Freddy. "Then what do they do with the old Lord Mayors when they've done with 'em?"

Clerk. "Lady been here this morning, sir, complaining about some goods we sent her."

Employer. "Who was she?"

Clerk. "I quite forgot to ask her name, sir, but she's a little woman—with a full-sized tongue!"

Little Boldwig (he had been dining with his Company, and had let himself in with his latchkey—to gigantic stranger he finds in his hall). "Come on. I'll fight you!" (Furiously.) "Put your shtick down!!"

[

But his imaginary foe was only the new umbrella-stand

—

a present

from Mrs. B.!

MAKING THE MOST OF IT

A Shocking Thing to think of!—A galvanic battery.

"Cash Advances."—Courting a rich widow.

Motto for Hairdressers.—"Cut and comb again."

Correct Motto for the Easy Shaver.—Nothing like lather.