rings and shells, and strongly flavoured with
cardamoms. As for Ally-campane (which I am
told should be spelled " Elecampane"), I believe
it as pure a fiction as a centaur or a hippogriff,
devised by elderly folks to give a false impression
of the joys of their childhood.

2. I do not believe that the large, varnished,
hollow-looking fishes which decorate the windows
of tackle-shops and the walls of certain
hostelries were ever caught by rod and line. How
they were caught I do not pretend to conjecture,
but I am open to the conviction that they are
manufactured of oilskin, bladder, greased paper,
or any other semi-pellucid material. When I
am told that in the portion of the river adjoining
a certain tavern patronised by anglers, there is
a jack that weighs an incredible number of
pounds, and that the landlord will " stand" a
champagne supper whenever it is caught, I am
not satisfied with suspecting; that the banquet
will never take place, but I utterly disbelieve
the existence of the fish.

3. I do not believe that any one ever
succeeded in lulling himself to sleep by an abortive
attempt to count a million.

4. I do not believe that the man who himself
saw a ghost was ever found in any assembly
however large, though I grant that the man
whose friend saw a ghost is to be found in every
assembly however small.

5. I do not believe that the John Dorey and
the Red Mullet are entitled to that pre-eminence
among fishes which is awarded to them by
fantastical epicures. When I am told that Samuel
Foote went once a year to some place in Devonshire
on purpose to eat John Dorey, I should be
inclined to think him a fool for his pains, were I
not much more strongly inclined to disbelieve
the statement altogether. I do not believe that
plovers' eggs deserve to be honoured with a
mossy throne denied to the produce of the do-
mestic hen and the duck. Far from believing
that a galantine of turkey is the choicest delicacy
placed upon a supper-table, I believe no one
would touch it who could get anything else to eat.

6. I do not believe that any one ever saw a
farce entitled John Jones, although it is
frequently played in London, generally after twelve
o'clock at night.

7. I do not believe that any gentleman who
tries to tell his fortune by cards ever arrives at
any result that will enable him to form even an
incorrect opinion as to his future career. I do
not believe that the information contained in six-
penny " dream-books" could be applied directly
or indirectly to any dream dreamed by mortal
man since the days of Joseph and his brethren.

8. I do not believe that John Bull is the
finest comedy in the English language, or that
Bombastes Furioso is the best burlesque that
ever was written.

9. I do not believe that any one ever became
a classical scholar by the aid of the Hamiltonian
system, or that any one ever  attained even a
smattering of Hebrew by studying that
language " without points."

10. I greatly disbelieve in that passionate love
for Dante which is often professed by young
ladies who have just begun to study Italian, but
this disbelief is not accompanied by the slightest
doubt as to the excellence of the poet.

11. I do not believe that anybody ever
derived any pleasure or profit from eating
watercresses with his tea. ,

12. I do not believe that there ever was a
pantomime in which Harlequin and Clown carried
out a plot as consecutive as that of a tragedy or
comedy, though I am informed, every Christmas,
that in certain " good old times" such
pantomimes were common, if not universal.

13. I do not believe that any one ever gained
an appetite for dinner by tossing off a glass of
a detestable compound called " gin-and-bitters,"
and my opinion is precisely the same with regard
to a drink which the French term " absinthe."

14. I do not believe that any man who set up
for an " original" ever allowed his eccentricities
to interfere with his pocket or his personal
convenience.

15. I do not believe that there is such a thing
as a talking bird. Not only have I wasted a
small fortune on starlings that did not even
attempt to speak, but I have listened by the
hour together to choice grey parrots while they
made a noise which an admiring crowd
pronounced to signify "Pretty Poll, and which I
am in a position to affirm would just as well
denote any other combination of syllables similarly
accented, and with somewhat similar vowels,
as, for instance, " Witty Tom." And I am
convinced that those persons who complain of the
opprobrious epithets with which they are accosted
by parrots, and attribute their rudeness to the
bad educational system of the sailors who
" brought them over," are simply the victims of
their own morbid imagination.

BLACK TARN.

IN THREE PORTIONS. CHAPTER I.

"LAURENCE, I tell you again, your only
chance is a good marriage."

"I know that, mother, by heart ; you have
told me so before; oftener than you seem to
remember."

"And my anxiety displeases you?"

"No; but your importunity wearies me."

"You are ungrateful, Laurence, and
disrespectful," said Mrs. Grantley, in an unmoved
voice, but with stately disapprobation.

"Am I so ?  I am afraid it is my way," said
Laurence, indifferently. " However," he added,
rising and lounging against the chimney-piece,
where he stood, stroking his moustache, "we
need not quarrel. My father and you managed to
diminish the old estate by some thousands: I
have not been behindhand; and now we are
both doing our best —- you on your side, I on
mine —- to bring the whole thing to the dogs. I
do not blame you, but you are horribly extravagant;
upon my soul you are. So am I."

"Laurence, I am surprised that you should
so offend against good taste—- and me."

Mrs. Grantley spoke with perfect breeding,