hem again. Also put _grey_
wideawake hat over clock in my study. That will remind me of _Gray's_
Inn. Falls on a Thursday!

_Last Week._--There, now I can come to this book with a clear
conscience. Done everything. Greek translation of TENNYSON ready for
press. Finished letter "Z" last night, in final volume of the
_Encyclopaedia Britannica_. Nothing omitted. Rather annoyed to find
someone has been tying knots in my handkerchief. Hate practical jokes!
Careless person, too, has been hanging my old grey wideawake on the
clock in my study. Rather a liberty! Don't like liberties. Always
courteous to _everybody_--consequently, expect _everybody_ to be
courteous to _me_! Still, can't help smiling. It _was_ a quaint idea to
hang my old wideawake on the clock in my study. I wonder what put such a
freak into the joker's head! Now let me look at the paper that has just
reached me from London. Dear me, "The Vacant Chair." That seems a good
title. And all about Gray's Inn! Now, I like Gray's Inn--a most
excellent place; everyone connected with it great friends of mine. And
writing of Gray's Inn, that reminds me--Good gracious! Why, last night
was Thursday, and I forgot to be there!!!

* * * * *

[Illustration: REFRESHMENTS IN VOGUE.

"QUININE OR ANTIPYRINE, MY LADY?"]

* * * * *

MENU-BETTING.

GENTLEMEN who bet on every event in life--who cut cards to decide
whether they shall go into the City by cab or by underground train, and
toss up to see whether they had better dine at home or at the Club, may
be interested to know of a new game of chance which can be played at
dinnertime, and in which ladies not only may but must take part.
"Betting on the _menu_" it is called; and it is done in this way. You
ask the lady next to you on the right--the one you have taken in to
dinner--permission to speculate as to what dishes she will choose from
among those inscribed on the _menu_; and you back your selection in a
series of bets either with the lady herself, or--if she happens not to
be what the French call "_sportive_"--with any gentleman who may be
willing to do business with you. Suppose the lady takes you? You make a
pencil-mark against each dish which, it seems to you, she will fancy;
and if you are right more often than you are wrong, you win--and the
lady does not pay you. In the contrary case you lose--and you pay the
lady. It need scarcely be said that y