Volume 102 — GIRLS OF THE PERIOD.

LETTER I.

(From Miss Mary Logic to Miss Rosa Blackbord.)

Coached Cottage.

MY DEAR ROSA,

I fancy I told you that my Uncle JACK was coming home from sea. I had not seen him for six years—in fact he left England when I was a child of four or so. As you know, I am now ten. I naturally was rather curious to meet him. Well he is here, and I am fairly puzzled. He is rather a nice fellow—partly educated. He is distinctly shaky with his Classics, and has evidently forgotten half his Mathematics. However we got on pretty well. He seemed to be interested in my lecture upon Astronomy, and said "I seemed to be a hand at Chemistry." Well so I am. As you know, when I was a mere child I was always fond of experiments of an analytical character. He asked me if I had a doll, and I suppose he referred to the old lay-figure that I was wont to sketch before I took to studying from the nude. And now you will ask, why I am writing to you, when both you and I are so busy—when we are both preparing for matriculation? When we have so little spare time at our disposal?

I will tell you. The fact is, he accuses me of ignorance in the biographical section of my studies. He gave me the history of a gentleman who used a blue dye for his moustache and murdered his wives with impunity. Then he related the adventures of a lady who slept for a hundred years from the wound of a spinning needle. I had to confess (although a constant reader of the Lancet) I had never heard of the case before. Then he recounted the adventures of a traveller who seems to have had a life of considerable interest. This person obtained quite a number of diamonds, with the assistance of a huge bird called a Roc. Then he had much to say about a dwarf who defeated (in really gallant style) several men of abnormally large stature. He laughed when I had to confess that I had never heard of these people before. He gave me their names. The wife-slaughterer was called Bluebeard; the lady who slumbered for a hundred years, The Sleeping Beauty (I suppose she preferred to keep her anonymity); the traveller's name was Sindbad, and the dwarf was Jack the Giant-Killer. Have you heard of any of these people?

Your affectionate Cousin, MARY.

LETTER II.

(Reply to Same, from Miss Rosa Blackbord.)

Algebra Lodge.

MY DEAR MARY,

As you are many weeks my junior (to be precise, exactly two months), I hasten to answer your letter. I have searched all my Biographical Dictionaries, but cannot find the people of whom you are in search. As for myself, I have never heard of Bluebeard, know nothing of The Sleeping Beauty, and am sceptical of the existence of Sindbad and Jack the Giant-Killer. Like Mrs. Prig, who doubted the existence of Mrs. Harris, "I don't believe there were no such persons." By the way, you ought to read DICKENS. He is distinctly funny, and I can quite understand his amusing our grandmothers. I generally turn to his works after a long day with HOMER or EURIPIDES.

Your affectionate Cousin, ROSA.

"NE PLUS ULSTER."—Decidedly, Ulster can't go beyond "its last," or rather, its latest, most utter utterances. So far, "words, words, words;" but from words to blows there is a long interval, especially when their supply of breath having been considerably exhausted, there is not much to be feared from their "blows." However, so far, the men with Ulsterior views have been patted on the back by the Times, and "approbation from Sir HUBERT STANLEY is praise indeed." Yet, had the meeting been of Nationalists! "But," as Mr. KIPLING's phrase goes, "that is another story." For, from the Times leader-writer's point of view, "that in the Orangeman's but a choleric word which in the Nationalist is rank blasphemy." However, the steam is let off through the spout, and by the time the Nationalist's dream of Home Rule is realised, all efforts to the contrary on The part of gallant little Ulster will probably be "Ulster vires."

ADVICE GRATIS.—DEAFNESS. (To "EXPERIMENTALIST.")—Yours seems a peculiar form of this painful complaint. We cannot understand why you should feel "as if wind were always coming from your left ear." Try blowing into the ear with the bellows three times a day. It may drive the wind back. For the "fulness, throbbing, &c.," we should advise ramming a good-sized darning-needle as far as it will go into the orifice. After that—or even before—it might be best to consult a competent medical man.

EARLY MISGIVINGS.

Newly-Married M.P. "BY JOVE, TEN O'CLOCK! I MUST GO DOWN TO THE HOUSE, IF ONLY TO FIND SOMEONE TO PAIR WITH."

His Wife. "OH, DARLING, I THOUGHT YOU AND I HAD PAIRED FOR LIFE!"