* *
TASKING A BISHOP'S FACE.
In the course of a speech delivered the other day at Southampton, the
BISHOP OF OXFORD is reported to have remarked that
"There should be Bishops over the Clergy who would weep when they
wept, and rejoice when they were glad."
Under existing circumstances that would be a difficult arrangement. What
with poor curates weeping on their L70 or L80 annual pittances, and rich
pluralists rejoicing at the same time in their several thousands a year,
a Bishop, in order to sympathize with both, would have to weep with one
side of his face and smile with the other.
* * * * *
THE HAPPIEST HUSBAND UNDER THE SUN.
ADAM had one great advantage over all other married couples--an
advantage which has been lost to us with Paradise--HE HAD NO
MOTHER-IN-LAW!!!
* * * * *
[Illustration: ABERDEEN SMOKING THE PIPE OF PEACE.]
* * * * *
THE TROUSER MIND.
[Illustration: T]
This kind of mind struts about in fanciful costumes. It flaunts
in vagaries, and is always masquerading its betters. It is a
mind of colours, but colours without any union, or harmonious
combination--giving one the notion of an Irish rainbow, in which all the
hues had quarrelled, and resolved to live apart. Nothing is too broad
for it, like a Palais Royal farce. Its legs are scored like a leg of
pork--only the scoring is fearful in length, so that nothing can wipe it
out, like the debts a young man runs up at college. It is lined all over
like a zebra, and as the zebra is the animal that is next to the donkey,
the description may be said to fit it like a second skin. There is about
such a mind the emptiness of vanity coupled with all its noise--not
unlike the noise which coppers make when they jingle in an empty pocket.
Everything about it is brassy and loud--in fact it is a perfect
ophieleide of loudness that is always in full blow. It gives you the
headache to look at the owner of such a mind. Better to be right in the
middle of the orchestra than sit next to such a mind at the theatre: the
one is the soft murmur of Midsummer silence compared to the Cochin-China
cock-crowing of the other. It never whispers, but bawls, like the waiter
at a cook-shop. The mind bellows, like the poor fellows outside
RICHARDSON'S show--and the greater the bellowing the poorer the
entertainment, generally, within. Its presence is a con
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