Caractacus Crowsfeet, the popular M.P. for Slushington, who has just
learnt, as the result of a cerebral operation, that he possesses no
brain whatever. "It is indeed remarkable," said Mr. C. to me the other
day, "for I can truthfully assert that in all my arduous political
labours of the past ten years I have never felt the need or even
noticed the absence of this organ." He coughed modestly. "I have always
maintained that in politics it is the man, not the mind, that counts."


_She Has One!_

Mrs. Zebulon Napthaliski proposes to spend the winter on her Brighton
estate. "Yes--I _have_ received my sugar card," she told me, in answer
to my eager query. "More than that I cannot say."


_Fare and Foliage._

That charming fashion of decorating the dinner-table with foliage will
be all the rage this winter. Well-known London hostesses, basket on arm,
may daily be seen in Mayfair garnering fallen leaves from lawn, path or
roadside. Some very daring Society women are dispensing altogether with
a cloth, the table being covered with a complete layer of leaves. I
doubt, however, whether this will become popular, guests showing a
tendency to mislay their knives and forks in the foliage.


_A Bon Mot._

Have you heard the latest _bon mot_ that is going the round of the