he instrument has been temporarily housed in the Zoological Gardens,
where daily recitals are given at meal-times by Dr. CHALMERS MITCHELL
and other powerful executants. Unfortunately the organ was not yet
installed at the time of the recent encounter between a lion and a
tigress, otherwise the fatality would, in the opinion of Sir FREDERICK
BRIDGE, have almost certainly been avoided.

* * * * *

When that my Judith sticks her slender nose
In things whereon a lass doth ill to trench,
An ever-widening breach my fancy shows,
For this is but the thin end of the wench.

* * * * *

[Illustration: LABOR OMNIA VINCIT.

"TURN HIM TO ANY CAUSE OF POLICY, THE GORDIAN KNOT OF IT HE WILL
UNLOOSE, FAMILIAR AS HIS GARTER."

_HENRY V._, I. i. 46.]

[Illustration: _The Girl._ "I DON'T THINK YOUR FRIEND CAN BE MUCH
CLASS."

_The Boy._ "WHY? WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH HIM?"

_The Girl_ "WELL, WHEN I INTRODUCED HIM TO MY FRIEND, SHE, OF COURSE,
SAID, 'PLEASED TO MEET YOU,' AND HE SAID, 'GRANTED.'"]

UNAUTHENTIC IMPRESSIONS.

V.--THE SIZZLES.

I cannot help it, but this article has got to begin with a short
historical disquisition. Many people are puzzled to know why Lord HUGH
CECIL wears that worried look, and why Lord ROBERT also looks so
sad. Yet the explanation is simple enough. It is because nobody can
pronounce their surname. "Cessil," says the man in the street (and
being in a street is a thing that may happen to anybody) as he sees
the gaunt careworn figures going by. And when they hear it the
sensitive ear of the CECILS is wrung with torture at the sound. They
wince. They would like to buttonhole the man in the street and explain
to him, like the _Ancient Mariner_, all about David Cyssell, the
founder of their line. David Cyssell, it seems, though he didn't quite
catch the Norman Conquest and missed the Crusades, and was a little
bit late for the Wars of the Roses, was nicely in time to get a place
in the train of HENRY VIII., which was quite early enough for a young
man who firmly intended to be an ancestor. When he died his last words
were, "Rule England, my boys, but never never, never let the people
call you 'Cessil,'" and his sons obeyed him dutifully by becoming
Earls and Marquises and all that kind of thing, so that the trouble
did not arise.

But, of course, if you don't happen to be the eldest son, the danger
is still there. And it