Skipper!--and so he skips, skips, with great relief, until "A
sail in sight appears,"--spell it "sale," and there's a picture of
it--"He hails it with three cheers!"

Now the Story, at p. 134, begins in good earnest, and, except for the
idle dilletante reader, all the foregoing, from the first Chapter,
might go by the board--that is, as far as the Baron can make out. He
speaks only for himself. The Chapter describing the sale by auction is
first-rate; no doubt about it. The Baron's spirits, just now down to
zero, rose to over 100 deg.. On we go: Throw over OSBOURNE, and come along
with Louis STEVENSON of _Treasure Island_. Bah! that exciting Chapter
was but a flash in the pan: brilliant but brief: and "Here we are!"
growls the Baron, "struggling along among a lot of puzzling lumber
in search of excitement number two, which does not seem to come until
Chapter XXIV., p. 383." Then there is a good blow out--of brains, a
scrimmaging, a banging, and a firing, and a scuffling, and a fainting,
and one marvellous effect. And then--is heard no more. The Baron harks
back, harks for'ard. No: puzzlement is his portion. Who was who, when
everybody turned out to be somebody else? Where was the Money? or more
important, Where is the Interest? "Well, that I cannot tell," quoth
he, "but 'twas a famous queer Sto-_ree_!" Perhaps the Baron, reading
against time, did not do it justice; or, perhaps he did. Anyway,
meeting a Lady-Stevensonian admirer, the Baron ventured to communicate
to her his great disappointment; whereupon she timidly whispered,
"Well, Baron, to tell you the truth, I quite agree with you. I found
it awfully tedious--except the sensations; but everybody is praising
it; so please, O please, do not betray my secret!" "Madam, a lady's
secret, even the universally-known _Lady Audley's Secret_, is
inviolable when intrusted to

Your devoted Servant, THE BARON DE B.-W."

* * * * *

SUMMERUMBRELLA.

[Illustration]

I long for sunshine, such as there must be
In Egypt, blazing on the native Fellah;
I see no sun or sky, I only see
My own Umbrella!

"No sun, no moon," as HOOD wrote long ago,
"No sky," no star--called, by the Romans, _stella_--
Like negative November here below,
My own Umbrella!

Think not of "AMARYLLIS in the shade"!
Can I play tennis in the rain with BELLA,
Holding aloft, while through the flood I wade,
My own Umb