_Podb._ You artful old whistling oyster, _I_ see what you're up to!
But it's no go; she don't want either of us Engadining about after
her. It's CHARLEY VAN STICKINTHEMUD's turn now! We've got to go to
Nuremberg. You can't get out of it, after gassing so much about the
place. When you've once decided, you know, it's _final_!

_Culch._ (_with dignity_). I am not aware that I _wanted_ to get out
of it. I merely proposed in your--(PODBURY _suddenly explodes._) What
are you cackling at _now_?

_Podb._ (_wiping his eyes_). It's the last laugh, old man,--and it's
the best!

[_CULCHARD walks away rapidly, leaving PODBURY in solitary
enjoyment of the joke. PODBURY's mirth immediately subsides
into gravity, and he kicks several unoffending chairs with
quite uncalled-for brutality._

* * * * *

A "KNOT"ICAL STORY OF DRURY LANE.

(_TOLD BY OUR AGED SALT, WITH A TASTE FOR THE DIBDIN DRAMA._)

[Illustration: "A Sailor Knot"--not a Sailor.]

[Illustration: Losing their heads on board the _Dauntless_.]

What, not remember it! Not the scene on Wapping Old Stairs and Mr.
CHARLES GLENNEY in the Merchant Service, and Miss MILLWARD the Ward of