NANOFF shows us a very
pleasant picture. The prisoners seem to have very little to do save to
preserve the life of the Governor, and to talk heroics about liberty
and other kindred subjects. _Prince Zosimoff_ attempts, for the
fourth or fifth time, to make _Anna_ his own--he calls the pursuit "a
caprice," and it is indeed a strange one--and is, in the nick of time,
arrested, by order of the CZAR. After this pleasing and natural little
incident, everyone prepares to go back to St. Petersburg, with the
solitary exception of the Prince, who is ordered off to the Mines. No
doubt the Emperor of RUSSIA had used the tooth-powder, and, finding
it distasteful to him, had taken speedy vengeance upon its presumed
inventor.

I have but one fault to find with the representation. The play is
capital, the scenery excellent, and the acting beyond all praise. But
I am not quite sure about the title. M. BUCHANANOFF calls his play
"_The_ Sixth _Commandment_"--he would have been, in my opinion, nearer
the mark, had he brought it into closer association with the Ninth!

Believe me, dear _Mr. Punch_,

Yours, respectfully,

RUSS IN URBE.

* * * * *

IN OUR GARDEN.

[Illustration]

"Suppose, TOBY dear boy," said the Member for Sark, "we start a
garden, and work in it ourselves. TEMPLE did it, you know, when he
was tired of affairs of State."

"Sir RICHARD?" I asked, never remembering to have seen the Member
for Evesham in the company of a rake.

"No; CHARLES THE SECOND's Minister, who went down to Sheen two
centuries before the Orleanist Princes, and grew roses. Of course
I don't mean to be there much in the Session. The thing is to have
something during Recess to gently engage the mind and fully occupy
the body."

This conversation took place towards the end of last Session but one.
By odd coincidence I had met the Member for Sark as I was coming
from OLD MORALITY's room, where I had been quietly dining with him,
JACKSON and AKERS-DOUGLAS made up party of four. It was second week
of August; everybody tired to death. OLD MORALITY asked me to look
in and join them about eight o'clock. Knocked at door; no answer;
curious scurrying going round; somebody running and jumping; heard
OLD MORALITY's voice, in gleeful notes, "Now then, DOUGLAS, tuck
in your tuppenny! Here you are, JACKSON! keep the mill a goin'!"
Knocked again; no answer; opened door gently; beheld strange sight.
The Patronage Secretary w