GROSVENOR GEMS. (FIRST VISIT.)

No. 150. The Old Hand teaching "Blind Hookey" to his Young Friends. No. 26. "Sail or Return."

No. 190. Lottie and Stottie of Oldham. No. 92. Photography under Difficulties. No. 381. "Sich a gettin' up Stairs!" "How shall we get on to landing of the Gallery from here without a trapèze?"

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Not much time for books this week, says the Baron; just been able to glance at W. S. Lilly's Right and Wrong: verdict—so far, all right, nothing wrong. Sharp chapter on journalism—severe, but not unjust. Picked up small book, for which inquire at W. H. Smith's bookstalls, Four Thousand Years After, by Helen L. Chevalier. Baroness having read it, highly recommends it in hot weather, as being a weird, mystical legend, of a soothing and interesting character, commencing a few years before "Adam delved and Eve span," and finishing in the time of steam yachts; so that it is brought right up to date. It is full of incident and picturesque description. I see Mr. Farjeon has been at it again with the Mystery of M. Felix. Felix—Happy Thought. Mr. Harry Furniss's Academy Antics is entertaining reading, and some of the earlier illustrations are quite Gilrayish in their breadth of style, not of subject.

Baron de Book-Worms.

Phenomenon in Natural History (by an observant Cricketer).—Obtaining a Duck's Egg from a Bat.

IN THE KNOW.

(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)

Every jackass who ever was seen in the pig-skin knows perfectly well, or ought to know, unless his brain has gone barnacle-hunting in one of Mr. J.'s journalistic bum-boats, that a race is to take place at Epsom in the early part of next month. It has been customary to speak of this race as the Derby, and to imagine that the owner whose horse wins it gains possession of the Blue ribbon of the turf. As if, forsooth, in a matter like this, the colour mattered in the very least. But I have a further objection to this hugger-mugger, three-cornered, rag-and-bone, vermilion-faced, grog-blossomed, hash-headed fashion of describing things, and it is this. If a two-year-old, provided with one of Mrs. Partington's patent range-finding, rectangular brooms, can beat an unbroken four-year-old over the Nose-bag Handicap Course by fourteen shoe-nails in a hundred, how in the name of all that is lop-sided can a three-masted frigate in full sail keep up with a Chinese Junk on Southampton Water? I pause for a reply, but knowing the anserous, venomous imbecility of the vermin who infest the turf, I think it will be a long time before I get one.

Crimson Jack is a good horse—no thanks to the puddling and pilfering slop-shop proprietors who manage him. When he used to draw a dust-cart in Grosvenor Square he accustomed himself to the sound of the saddling bell, and now knows when luncheon time has arrived. A year ago, I wouldn't have given a copper shirt-stud for him, never having even heard of him. Now I believe him to be worth even more than the £10 given for him by the Ropes Contingent. But I have got my eye on them, and they know it. The mooncalves * * * gruel-brains * * * puddling simpletons * * * muddy and pernicious rascals * * * dolts, dumplings and dunderheads * * * poisonous, pestilential, crawling, goose-faced reptiles * * * rely on it I know. * * *

[There has been no time to send this proof for correction, and it has, therefore, been printed as it was received, gaps and all.—Ed. Punch.]

A LITTLE PARTY IN EAST AFRICA ONLY GOING TO COLLECT A FEW BUTTERFLIES AND FLOWERS FOR THE DEAR KAISER, THAT IS ALL!!

"We came very near to having Kilima-Njaro attached to the British Empire, only the German Emperor said he would very much like it, because he was so fond of the flora and fauna of the place.... Would the English have expected to get any territory on account of their great interest in the flora and fauna here."—Stanley speaking at Chamber of Commerce, May 21.