_Brown_ (_clasping palms_). With all the pleasure in the world. But
still I owe you reparation. How can I--

_Jones_ (_interrupting_). Not another word, my dear friend. That is a
matter we can leave in the hands of our Solicitors.

[_Scene closes in upon the suggestion._

* * * * *

[Illustration: A SOLILOQUY.

_Youthful Mercury._ "WHAT'S THIS 'ERE ON THE PLYTE? 'KNOCK AND RING'!
BLOWED IF THEY WON'T BE HARSKING YER TO '_WALK HINSIDE_,' NEXT!!"]

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

[Illustration: "Oliver asking for More."]

It is curious to find a coincidence in style and in idea between an
earnest, witty and pious English author of the Sixteenth Century,
and an American author of our own day. Yet so it is, and here is the
parallel to be found between the quaint American tales about the old
negro, _Uncle Remus_, by JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, in this year of Grace,
1892, and the fables writ by Sir THOMAS MORE in 1520, or thereabouts,
which he represents as if told him by an old wife and nurse, one
Mother MAUD. Here are "The Wolf,"--"Brer Wolf"--and the simple-minded