* * * * *

A GEOGRAPHICAL THEORY.--"Where _is_ Liberia?" inquired one cultured
person of another, _a propos_ of Mrs. RICKS's interview with the
QUEEN. "I'm sure _I_ don't know," was the answer, "but--judging by the
name--I should think it was _exactly opposite_ to Siberia."

* * * * *

[Illustration: WILLIAM THE WHEELMAN.

"'I CAN ONLY EMPHASISE THE FACT THAT I CONSIDER THAT PHYSICALLY,
MORALLY, AND SOCIALLY, THE BENEFITS THAT CYCLING CONFERS ON THE MEN
OF THE PRESENT DAY ARE ALMOST UNBOUNDED.' (_Aside._) _WISH I WERE ON
A 'SAFETY'!!_"]

* * * * *

MINOR MISERIES.

NO. I.--TO A LADY ON WHOSE TABLE-CLOTH HE HAD UPSET THE MUSTARD-POT.

Dear Lady, in your dining-room
I sat, a melancholy slave.
Your smiles could hardly chase my gloom;
While others jested, I was grave.
And still you saw me sit and sit--
"Enough of this," you said, "come, come,
Be cheerful." While I merely bit
A foolish, irresponsive thumb,
And found no comfort in the act,
And cursed myself, the clumsy Goth,
As void of fingers as of tact,
Who spilt the mustard on the cloth!

That was the cause of all my woe--
Good lack, I blame my thumbs in vain;
Still on the cloth's expanded snow
I seem to see that yellow stain.
And still you sit and speak me fair,
And still your Butler grimly smiles,
The while I paint in mustard there
A sketch-map of the British Isles.
I think it had repaid my guilt
Had you flashed fire like Ashtaroth,
And scorched the clumsy wretch who spilt
That flood of mustard on your cloth.

Beef, pudding, cherry-tart, and cream,
What more could mortal man desire?
I munched them idly in a dream,
My head sang like a village choir.
I fumbled with the silver pot
From which that tawny torrent ran;
I heard you say it mattered not,
To cheer a miserable man.
So here I thank you; may I be
Extinct as is the Behemoth
Rather than spill by Fate's decree
Once more the mustard on your cloth.

* * * * *

THE NEXT AFRICAN MISSION.

(_TELEGRAPHIC PRECIS OF THE NEGOCIATIONS._)

_First Day._--Arrived safely at the Sultan's capital. Everything in
proper order. Draft Treaty in my trunk with my diplomatic uniform.
Escort in marching order. Ammunition in waggon. Quite ready to
commence negociations. Only waiting