of their various bents. She schemed successfully against countless rivals,
in order to maintain her pre-eminence in the admiration of her circle. Her
ambition knew no bounds. She changed her so-called friends every week; she
cultivated grand passions for actors, authors, musicians, and even for
professors. Sometimes she played to select audiences with all her old
ravishing skill, but this happened more and more rarely, until at last she
utterly declined, and even went so far as to flout H.S.H. the Duke of
KALBSKOPF, who had been specially invited to meet her.

Then suddenly came the crash. She left her husband, in company with CHARLIE
FITZHUBERT, the heir presumptive to the wealthy earldom of Battersea. On
the following day Mr. PARDOE blew out his brains, leaving ten thousand
pounds of debt and three young children. Six months afterwards the
venerable Dean died, and sentimental people spoke of a broken heart. Then
the Earl of BATTERSEA, in a fit of indignation, married, and was blessed
with a son, the present Earl. CHARLIE FITZHUBERT married HERMIONE, but they
are as poor as curates, and he hates her. I saw her two days ago in a
shabby hired carriage. She is getting prematurely old, and grey, and
wrinkled, and everybody avoids her, except her sister SOPHY, who still
visits her, and suffers her ill-humour.

Charming story, isn't it? I shall write again soon.

Yours, in the meantime,
DIOGENES ROBINSON.

* * * * *

NIGHT-MAILING.--"Night Mail between London and Paris" has been recently
announced in all the papers as now ready and willing to take night-mailers