rank," as if a little Christian was any more a Christian for being baptized by a archbishop! Go on.

Nosebag. Moreover, he says (reads), "The ceremony was of the loftiest and most magnificent character, befitting in that respect at once the service of that all-powerful God who commanded His creatures to worship Him in pomp and glory under the old law.”

Nutts. Hallo! Stop there. What have we to do with the "old law" in christening? I thought the "old law" was only for the Jews. Isn't the "old law" repealed for Christians?

Nosebag. Be quiet. (Reads.) "The vase which contained the water was brought from the river of Jordan "

Nutts. Well, when folks was christened then, I think there was no talk about magnificence; not a word about the pomp of the "old law." Don't read it through. Give us the little nice bits here and there.

Nosebag. Well, here's a procession with fieldmarshals in it, and major-generals, and generals. Nutts. There wasn't so much as a full private on the banks of the Jordan.

Nosebag. And "the whole of the costumes of both ladies and gentlemen were very elegant and magnificent; those of the former were uniformly

white, of valuable lace, and the richest satins or silks. The gentlemen were either in uniform or full Court dress.

Nutts. Very handsome indeed; much handsomer than any coat of camel's hair.

Nosebag. The Master of the Royal Buckhounds was present

Nutts. With his dogs?

Nosebag. Don't be wicked,-and "the infant Princess was dressed in a rich robe of Honiton lace over white satin."

Nutts. Stop. What does the parson say y?

"Dost thou in the name of this child renounce the devil and all his works, the vain pomp and glory of this world?

Nosebag. (Reads.) "The Duke of Norfolk appeared in his uniform as Master of the Horse. The Duke of Cambridge wore the Orders of the Garter, the Bath, St Michael, and St George. Earl Granville appeared'

Nutts. That will do.

There was no "vain

pomp," and not a bit of "glory."

CHAPTER II.

UTTS. Now, Mr Slowgoe, when you've gone through the alphabet of that paper, I'm ready.

Slowgoe. Just one minute.

Nutts. Minutes, Mr Slowgoe, are the smallchange of life. Can't wait for nobody. I'll take you then, Mr Limpy. (LIMPY takes the chair.) It makes my flesh crawl to see some folks with a newspaper. They go through it for all the world like a caterpillar through a cabbage leaf.

through it for all thevitoria F

Slowgoe. Well, for my part, I like to chew my news. I think a newspaper's like a dinner; doesn't do you half the good if it's bolted. Haven't come to it yet; but tell me-Is it true that the Duke of Wellington's going to repeal flogging?

Tickle. Why, yes; they do say so; but the Duke does nothin' in a hurry. Always likes to take his time. You know at Waterloo he would wait for the Prussians; and only because if he'd

licked the French afore, he didn't know how else to spend the evening.

Slowgoe. I never heard that; but it's very like the Duke. And there's to be no flogging.

Tickle. No; it's to be repealed by degrees, like the corn-laws. In nine years' time there won't be a single cat in the British army.

Nosebag. Why should they wait nine years?

Nutts. Nothin' but reg'lar. You see the cat-o'nine-tails is one of the institutions of the country, and therefore must be handled very delicate.

When cat's away
Sojers play.

That's been the old notion. And folks-that is, the folks with gold-lace that's never flogged-think to 'bolish the cat at once would bring a blight upon laurels. They think sojers like eelsnone the worse for fire for being well skinned.

Tickle. There you are; biting the 'thorities of your country agin. But since you've taken the story out of my mouth, go on, though every word you speak's a bitter almond.

Nutts. Well, it isn't a thing to talk sugar-plums about, is it? I'm not a young lady, am I?

Mrs Nutts. (From back parlour.) I wish you'd remember you've a wife and children, Mr Nutts, and never mind young ladies. You can't shave and talk of young ladies too, I'm sure.

Nutts. (In a low voice.) It's very odd; she's one of the strongest-minded women, and yet she can never hear me speak of one of the sex without fizzing like a squib.

Nosebag. (Solemnly.) Same with 'em all. I suppose it's love.

Nutts. Why, it is; that is, it's jealousy, which is only love with its claws out.

Tickle. Well, claws brings you to the cat again; so go on.

Nutts. To be sure. Well, as I was saying▬▬ (To Limpy.) What's the matter? I'm sure this razor would shave a new-born baby; but for a poor man I don't know where you got such a delicate skin. I will say this, Mr Limpy, for one of the swinish multitude, you are the tenderest pork I ever shaved.

Slowgoe. But the Duke of Wellington

Nutts. Don't hurry me; I'm going to his Grace. Well, they do say that he's going to get rid of the cat by little and little. He knows the worth of knotted cords to the British soldier, and, like a dowager with false curls, can't give 'em all up at So there's to be a law that the cat is still to be used upon the British Lion in regimentals, only that the cat is to lose a tail every year.*

once.

The Duke has, doubtless to the astonishment of Mr Nutt when he shall learn it, suggested a more rapid reformation.