domestic stag.

"A weel, there's nae mischief done," continues my interlocutor;
"but it's nae good a stalking Epaminondas, for he's just a sagacious
beastie altogether."

* * * * *

Here we are at the Lodge. But, hulloah! what's this uproar on the
lawn? A herd of deer dashing wildly over everything, flowerbeds
and all, and, yes, absolutely five of them bursting into the house,
through one of the drawing-room windows, while JEPSON and the two
kirk Ministers emerge hurriedly, terrified, from the other. Crash!
And what's _that_? Why, surely it _can't_ be--but yes, I believe it
is--yes, it _positively is_ the Chief's pickaxe that has flown through
the air, and just smashed through the upper panes, scattering the
glass in a thousand fragments in all directions!

And thus ends my Stalking for the Present, and (probably) the Future!

* * * * *

[Illustration: BLACK SYRENS.

_This is how the lovely and accomplished Miss B----ns (of ----,
Portland Place) managed to defray the expenses of their Sea-side Trip,
this Autumn, without anybody being any the wiser!_

"O-HI-O! O-HI-HO! THERE NEVER WAS A FINER GIRL THAN DINAH, DOWN BY THE
OHIO!"]