merely compiled. However, we may commence with a very neat little
French riddle.

"Quel est l'objet que l'on recherche le plus quand on s'en dégoûte?"

A mysterious inquiry, and all sorts of horrible but needful
abominations occur to the mind in answer. But the answer is not so
bad after all. Change the spelling without altering the
pronunciation, and you get _quand on sent des gouties,_ and, lo!
you have it at once--le Parapluie--the faithful friend whose presence
we most desire when we wish least for the necessity of it; the burden
of our fine days, the shelter of our wet ones.

Or again, would you like a verse or two on the same subject?

"Pour étrenne, on veut à l'envie
Du frais et du neuf et du beau,
Je dis que c'est un parapluie,
Que l'on doit donner en _cas d'eau._"

The author of these two _jeux de mots_ unhappily we do not
know, or we would thank him for them. The English poet of the
Umbrella has yet to be born.

The next story relates to the early history of the Umbrella in
Scotland, and may probably be referred to the time when good Dr.
Jamieson was walking about Glasgow with his new-fangled sheltering
apparatus, which he had brought with him on his return from Paris. As
it was the first ever seen in that city, it attracted universal
attention, and a vast amount of impudence from the "horrid boys." The