. BALFOUR, and the
Princess, overcome by the ready wit of the ex-PREMIER, served four
faults in quick succession. At the conclusion of the game Mr. BALFOUR
wiped his face twice with his handkerchief and signed his name in the
birthday books of several American heiresses.

We understand that there is no truth in the rumour that Mr. BALFOUR will
box five rounds with CARPENTIER at a Charity Bazaar and Gymkhana next
Saturday, but hopes are entertained that he will dance the Ta-tao with
the Princess Pongo, and enter for the three-legged race with the Grand
Duke Uriel.

* * * * *

"TO MAKE THE PUNISHMENT FIT THE CRIME."

[Illustration: _Judge._ "Have you anything to say for yourself before I
sentence you, Prisoner?"

_Prisoner._ "Yes, your Lordship; I taught your wife and daughters the
Tango."

_Judge._ "Twenty years."]

* * * * *

AN IDOL OF THE MARKET PLACE.

Decorum and the butcher's cat
Are seldom far apart--
From dawn when clouds surmount the air,
Piled like a beauty's powdered hair,
Till dusk, when down the misty square
Rumbles the latest cart

He sits in coat of white and grey
Where the rude cleaver's shock
Horrid from time to time descends,
And his imposing presence lends
Grace to a platform that extends
Beneath the chopping-block.

How tranquil are his close-piled cheeks
His paws, sequestered warm!
An oak-grained panel backs his head
And all the stock-in-trade is spread,
A symphony in white and red,
Round his harmonious form.

The butcher's brave cerulean garb
Flutters before his face,
The cleaver dints his little roof
Of furrowed wood; remote, aloof
He sits superb and panic-proof
In his accustomed place.

Threading the columned county hall,
Mid-most before his eyes,
Alerter dog and loitering maid
Cross from the sunlight to the shade,
And small amenities of trade
Under the gables rise;

Cats of the town, a shameless crew,
Over the way he sees
Propitiate with lavish purr
An unresponsive customer,
Or, meek with sycophantic fur,
Caress the children's knees.

But he, betrothed to etiquette,
Betrays nor head nor heart;
Lone as the Ark on Ararat,
A monument of fur and fat,
Decorum and the butcher's cat
Are seldom far apart.

* * * * *

"It was Horace that put in print the old