[_Before Mr. MANDOLINE can think of a suitable reply, Mrs. R. enters from the inner room, where she has remained till now. She is carrying a small steel poker, which she silently places in the hand of her astonished husband._
_Jack._ Hullo! _you_ here? What's _this_ for?
_Mrs. R._ (_meekly_). To--to smash the d----d thing with.
[_The marriage peal ceases abruptly, as Mrs. MANDOLINE, comparatively reassured, discreetly leaves the couple to come to a better understanding without further assistance._
_The Gentlewoman_, No. 1, has appeared. It gives, or rather sells, an overwhelming lot for the money, which is sixpence. Sixpenn'orth of all sorts. Plenty of readable information. Illustrations not the best feature in it. Crowds of advertisements. The _menus_, if carefully sustained, may prove very useful to those who "dinna ken." As to the type of _The Gentlewoman_, well, the first picture is of Her Imperial Majesty the QUEEN, and with this type of the Gentlewoman we shall all be satisfied, _dicit_ BARONIUS DE BOOK-WORMS.
"What a sight o' Books!" cries the Baron, remembering the clever Parrot who uttered a similar exclamation at a Parrot Competition. First, here is _Blossom Land and Fallen Leaves_, by CLEMENT SCOTT, published by HUTCHINSON & CO., which is an interesting and useful book to those who are able to take a holiday in Cromer, and marvel at the sunset, and notice how "in the far distance a couple of lovers advance towards the fading light"--I'll be bound that deeply engaged couple didn't catch sight of the "chiel takin' notes"--and how did _he_ know for certain they were a couple of lovers? Why not brother and sister? Why not husband and wife? Why not uncle and aunt?--but with an experienced eye the canny SCOTT made a pretty shrewd guess--and it is a pleasant companion, is this book, to those who cannot visit Cromer, or any of the other places mentioned in _Blossom Land_, and who reading it at home will only wish they could do so, and will promptly make arrangements for paying (the "paying" _is_ the difficult part) a visit not only to Cromer but also to Caen, Etretat, Cabourg,--carefully noting C.S.'s account of his "cruise upon wheels," and his sensible remarks on Parisianising these otherwise tranquil resorts. From Havre to Hammersmith is a bit of a jump, but it is from a bustling port to a peaceful spot--"a Harbour of Refuge" at Nazareth, where the Baron sincerely trusts the good Little Sisters of the Poor are no longer Poor-rated £120 per annum, just by way of parochial encouragement, I suppose, to other charitable persons for relieving the parish "of an incubus of four hundred." The work of these self-sacrificing women cannot be over-rated in one sense, but in the parochial sense (if parochials have any) they can hardly be rated enough. Really a delightful book for all comers and goers.