by the employment of
soap and water--he developed such a beautiful pink-and-white skin,
that his parents failed to recognise him. This was unfortunate in one
way, as he has now become chargeable on the rates. Talking of rates,
we may mention that we supply finest Midlothian Campaign Oatmeal at a
more reasonable figure than any other firm in the trade. Price-list on
application.

Yours obediently, McCANNY & Co.

_Edinburgh._

SIR,--I am not less than fifty years' old, and marked with small-pox,
and therefore I think that Oatmeal and Oranges would be sure to do my
complexion good. As mine is perhaps a rather unusual case, I am trying
the remedy in a peculiarly thorough way. I have an Oatmeal-bath twice
a day, during which I suck six oranges. My breakfast consists of
porridge and marmalade. I have engaged a policeman to knock at my
front door three times every night, to wake me. I then sit up in bed
and consume oat-cakes soaked in orange-juice. I also dress in yellow,
and I have written to Belfast to ask if I can be admitted to an Orange
Society there, but hitherto I have received no reply. You will, I
think, agree with me that I am giving the new treatment a fair trial.
Yours truly,

TABITHA NUPKINS.

* * * * *

[Illustration: UNLUCKY COMPLIMENTS.

_Shy but Susceptible Youth_. "ER--_COULD_ YOU TELL ME WHO THAT YOUNG
LADY IS--SKETCHING?"

_Affable Stranger_. "SHE HAS THE MISFORTUNE TO BE MY WIFE!"

_Shy but Susceptible One_ (_desperately anxious to please, and losing
all presence of mind_). "OH--THE MISFORTUNE'S ENTIRELY _YOURS_, I'M
_SURE_!"]

* * * * *

THE BAMSGATE SANDS.

It's hey for the sands, for the jolly Ramsgate Sands,
Where the children shout and tumble, spade and bucket in their
hands.
Where sandy castles rise in scores, I trow a man might float
A fleet of six-inch pleasure-skiffs on many a deep-dug moat.
Where, while the banjos discord make, the German bands make noise,
And nursemaids by the hundred shepherd flocks of girls and boys.
Where the boys tuck up their trousers, and the girls tuck up their
frocks,
A paddling tribe who scorn their shoes and customary socks.

Ye loud-voiced men of cocoa-nuts, what is it that you say?
"Come try yer luck, roll, bowl, or pitch; the lydies stand'
alf-way."
One youth I saw who took his stand, a clerk of pith was he,
He shut one eye and