sit beside us as we discuss our modest pies (hot and savoury,) and
quaff our '84. And then I can hear the retreating footsteps as the
darlings trip away, leaving us to resume our chase after the birds.

And then the shadows will grow longer, and the sun will set behind
the hills in a mass of purple, red, and gold; and it will be time for
us to turn our faces towards the shooting-box that will shelter us
through the long watches of the summer's night.

And lastly I can see the final halt at the poulterer's, as we purchase
the grouse to fill our bags before the journeying home.

* * * * *

A GEOGRAPHICAL THEORY.--"Where _is_ Liberia?" inquired one cultured
person of another, _à propos_ of Mrs. RICKS's interview with the
QUEEN. "I'm sure _I_ don't know," was the answer, "but--judging by the
name--I should think it was _exactly opposite_ to Siberia."

* * * * *

[Illustration: WILLIAM THE WHEELMAN.

"'I CAN ONLY EMPHASISE THE FACT THAT I CONSIDER THAT PHYSICALLY,
MORALLY, AND SOCIALLY, THE BENEFITS THAT CYCLING CONFERS ON THE MEN
OF THE PRESENT DAY ARE ALMOST UNBOUNDED.' (_Aside._) _WISH I WERE ON
A 'SAFETY'!!_"]

* * * * *