_Hygiene._ Never bothering about one's health.
_Idiocy._ The opinions of those who differ from one.
_Justice._ Enthusiastic praise of oneself.
_Kleptomania._ Stealing things one doesn't want.
_Moonlight._ Depends on the other person.
_Marriage._ The avowed and justifiable object in life of young girls. The avowed and justifiable terror of bachelors.
_Nature._ It has gone out of fashion, except in novels you must not say you have read.
_Palmistry._ Only if he is really very nice.
_Quarrel._ A proof of love, or of detestation.
_Quixotism._ Defending the absent-minded.
_Romance._ Friendship in London. [_Note._--Do not be so absurdly credulous as to believe there is no such thing as Platonic affection. It is extremely prevalent; in fact, there is hardly anything else.]
_Toleration._ Culture. [_Note._--You may as well begin to be tolerant at once, and save trouble. It is sure to come in time.]
_Untidiness._ The picturesque way in which the other girl does her hair.
_Wilfulness._ A desire to give pleasure to others.
_Zoological Gardens._ Of course not. Nobody goes there now. Besides, you never know whom you may meet.
There, GLADYS, dear! Write soon, and let me know when you are coming back to London. Sleeves are larger than ever, and chinchilla---- But I daresay you have heard.
"MY OLD DUTCH!"--See Exhibition of Old Masters' Works, Burlington House.
(_For investigation by the Psychical Society._)
The way was long, the train was slow, As local trains are wont to go, A feeble ray of glimmering light Strove vainly with the darkling night, And scarce enabled me to see The features of my _vis-à-vis_. Pale was his brow: no paler grow The snowdrops lurking in the snow; Hollow his cheeks, and sunk his eyes That gazed on me in mournful wise. So strange a man I ne'er had seen, So wan a look, so weird a mien, And, as I eyed him, I confess A feeling of uncanniness Crept slowly over me and stole Into the marrow of my soul. Awhile we sped, nor spake a word; Nought but the droning wheels was heard; But as we journeyed on together, By tentative degrees we fell From observations on the weather To talk of other things as well. "I had a few hours off," said he; "So I just ran across to see The last inventions----I refer To Kensington Museum, Sir. You know it? What a grand display! A splendid exhibition, eh? I never saw so fine a show Of coffins anywhere, you know! And there is one that's simply sweet, With handles, knobs, and plate complete!" "A coffin!"--Cold a shudder ran Adown me as I eyed the man. "Aye, to be sure. What else?" he said. "The one that's just been patented. Why, my good Sir, I will engage It is the marvel of the age; For, mark you, they no longer use Your clumsy, antiquated screws, But just a simple catch and pin That may be managed _from within!_" He ceased, for we had reached a station That chanced to be his destination. "My home!" he murmured, with a sigh. "Home--home! Sweet home!--Good-night!--Good-bye!" "Good-night!" I answered; and my heart Leaped when I saw his form depart. But as we slowly glided past The spot where I had seen him last, Upon the station lamps, methought, The letters of a name I caught. I looked again.--My hair uprose, The very soul within me froze, For lo! upon the lamps was seen The curdling legend--KENSAL GREEN!