gnat." I have not been among lions, but know
the gnats, and am entirely of one mind with
the distinguished naturalist.

                THE THREE ESTATES.

                              I.
          WHEN Richelieu to the Clergy cried
          " Six millions for the State!"
         The Archbishop of Sens replied,
         "God save the King! The great
         And ancient rule hath been alway
         That for the Public Good
         The Clergy pray, the People pay,
         The Nobles shed their blood."

         " Good!" said the Spirit of the Age,
         " Give and take is a doctrine sage."

                       II.
         So, when the Royal Power had need
         Of more than priestly prayer,
         The Nobles for the Throne did bleed;
          And then the Nobles were
          The masters. When the Royal Power
          Said to the People " Pay,"
          The People paid; but from that hour
          The masters rested they.

          " Good!" saith the Spirit of the Age,
          "Give and take is a doctrine sage."

                           TO LET.

IT is an exceedingly unpleasant thing to live
in a house which is, at the time when you are
occupying it, to let.

I have no doubt that the policeman's family
at the untenanted mansion round the corner will
respond to the truth of this remark. What a
time they have of it. How are they hunted
from mansion to mansion, and from villa to villa.
As soon as they get accustomed to the black
beetles at the semi-detached cottage, they are
transferred to the attentions of another and a
larger species, at the " residence fit for a nobleman"
which is the house agent's next venture.
They must have a miserable time of it, and it is
enough to make this constable's wife disparage
the house which she is employed to show off, in
order that she may be allowed to remain there
in peace. That woman " lives out of her box,"
as the saying is, for it is not worth while to
unpack it when she may have to leave at a moment's
notice. Under these circumstances, of course
the children cannot be kept as nice as might be,
and certainly they might be nicer. Those
children are somewhat to be pitied. Between the
necessity of keeping quiet all day in order that
father, who is a night p'liceman, may get his due
amount of sleep, and the difficulty of accommodating
their conduct to mother's temper, which
her unsettled position renders irritable, they
have enough to do. There is a nondescript dog,
however, who lives upon the area steps, and
does not care a pin how often the family moves,
which animal is a great comfort to the children.
He allows himself to be dragged about by them,
and, in return, helps them off with their
bread-and-dripping, which, with an occasional fly,
keeps him going nicely.

These good people live rent-free all their lives,
and have the opportunity of trying the air in
different parts of the town, but they never seem
to be happy. Their turn-up bedstead never has
a permanent home, and their gridiron and their
kettle are ever hanging on unaccustomed nails.
It is not, however, of their troubles that it is
just now my business to speak. I have to do
with others, perhaps of a less material kind, but
perhaps, to the man of feeling and emotion, yet
more galling. It is bad, no doubt, to grovel
among the foundations all your life, to live in
unfurnished and ever-changing basements. It
is also difficult to keep inquisitive persons, who
come to see the house, out of the pantry, where
your husband is in bed, and snoring horribly
—for the day snoring of a night p'liceman is a
thing altogether out of the way and apart from
all other snoring whatsoever. Still, there are
other vexations besides such as these, and this
I hope, with the reader's permission, to show.

The " house to let" of which I would speak
is to let furnished, and you, its temporary owner,
are living in it till another occupant can be
found. This is unpleasant. In the first place,
there is a bill in the window, of itself a depressing
thing, and that bill (which presents its reverse
side to you in the house) you are always trying to
read backwards. " This Desirable Residence to
be Let, Furnished," takes a long time in the spelling
out, and the house agent's name and address
take longer still: yet in this pastime you find
yourself engaged diligently, whenever you are
in the room in whose window the bill is placed.
The bill, too, is always coming undone at the
corners, for glass is a slippery substance. This
does not matter much, however, as you can set
things right with a little mucilage or a wafer,
which holds for a good half hour at the
least. That servants should be unsettled and
disorganised while living precariously in a house
with a bill up, and that tradespeople should be
attentive in calling with their accounts, seems
only natural.

But what are such annoyances to those
which are inflicted upon you by the people who
come to see the house? They come at all hours,
and catch you at all sorts of occupations. If
you are a late riser, there comes an early bird
who has no time to lose, and who particularly
wishes to see the principal dressing-room, in
which you are at the moment engaged in flattening
a " feather" on the top of your head. You
are afraid to lose a chance, and you let him in, and
he takes the opportunity of overwhelming you
with questions, which you answer at a considerable
disadvantage, on account of the incomplete
state of your morning preparations.  These
house-hunters, let it be repeated, come at all
hours. They come when you are at breakfast
and at luncheon, and stare at the shattered
remains of these feasts. The empty egg-shells
do not escape ihem; for them the sirloin is not
streaked in vain. Again, they come when you
are engaged in business; and, when your wife