Pickles with planning--and to a large extent effecting--my
Destruction! Hay, Hops, Cereals, Root-Crops, Fruits and Flowers--all
ruined by these roystering rascals. They've done more incurable
mischief in three supposed-to-be Summer Months than those
much-maligned Boys over yonder did all the Winter. They've had it all
their own way the Season through, ay, as much as though they'd nailed
the weathercock to S.W., and knocked out the bottom of Aquarius's
water-pot. And I call upon you, O Mother of the Winds, to pop them at
once into their respective Bags, sit upon them till they are choked
silent and still, and then hang them up to dry--if dry such watery
imps _can_--for at least six months to come!"

Now whether the Mother of the Winds gave ear to the prayer of the poor
Princess AGRICULTURA, and imposed upon the Two Winds the punishment
they richly deserved, the sequel must show.

* * * * *

[Illustration: SIGNS OF BREEDING.

(_Vide Correspondence in the "Daily Telegraph_.")

_Little Binks agrees with Lord Byron that Breeding shews itself in the
Hands, and complacently surveys his own._

"BOSH!" SAYS BLOKER. "BREEDING SHOWS ITSELF IN THE EAR, AND NOWHERE
ELSE!"]

* * * * *