threepenny bit was a pewter one; quite sincere, for the time, in his
determination to subdue his own weakness. Still it was not to be:
inbred pride is not so easily vanquished--even by Bishops! The Bishop
learned to glory in his blacking far more than he had ever done in the
original mahogany. He had it continually renewed, and with the most
expensive compositions. He would bend enraptured over the burnished
surfaces of his extended legs, gazing, like another Narcissus, at the
features he saw so faithfully repeated.

Meanwhile the threepence, base as it was, became the humble instrument
of brighter fortunes to BRUSTLES; it showed a marvellous aptitude
for turning up tails, which BEN no sooner perceived than he availed
himself of a blessing that had, indeed, come to him in disguise!

But the Bishop--what of him? Nemesis overtook him at last. The
discontent long smouldering in his diocese broke out into a climax.
Thousands of Curates, inflamed by professional agitators, went out on
strike, and their first victim was the Bishop of TIMBERTOWS, who was
discovered prostrate one dark night by his horrified Chaplain. He had
been picketed as a Blackleg!

THE END.

(_Copies of the above may be obtained for distribution, at
very reasonable terms, on application to the Author._)

* * * * *

PLAYTIME FOR A DOLL'S HOUSE.