M

A SHAKESPEAREAN REVEL.

RS. ROMEO MONTAGUE was on the verge of hysterics. She had sent out cards for a pink Shakespearean luncheon in honour of the Bard of Avon, and it had rained uninterruptedly ever after the last invitation was mailed at the general postoffice. Worse than all, the féte day arrived, and with clouds low and sullen, which gave spasmodic imitations of what they could do if they list to be nasty. This was just to tease Mrs. Montague, and the poor lady was frantic. Everything depended upon the weather, as the function was an al freso affair to be held in the old Capulet's garden.

Papa Capulet, by the bye, had long since gone to his account, leaving his property to his daughter and her devoted spouse, the erstwhile gallant Romeo. Juliet, who was putting the finishing touches to the festive board, continued to feel pretty blue, when suddenly through a rift in the grey the sun came sailing, beaming complacently on every thing in sight, and boldly winked his left optic, which had a naughty little twinkle in it, at Juliet. That worthy dame was so delighted at the metamorphosis in the atmosphere that she forgot to be indignant and called joyfully to her better half within doors: "Oh, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?"

Clear and distinct came Romeo's awswer: "I am minding Montague, junior!"

"Well, give him to nurse, and come down here and help me arrange these orchids!" So out he came, and presently the feast was in readiness; and the guests began to arrive shortly after.

The gathering was a distinguished one, only the premier people of the Shakespearean drama having been bidden. Juliet, a charming hostess, was very picturesque in mousseline de soie and a Leghorn hat. Romeo was in tennis flannels, white sailor and a shrieking cravat. He was cordiality itself, and insisted on showing young Montague to everyone, much to the disgust of Othello, who being a bridegroom of but a few weeks, deemed his host's enthusiasm about his bald-headed, goggle-eyed offspring a colossal display of vulgarity. But the Moor, as we know, was always a bit jealous.

the cozy corners which the hostess with rare tact had placed for her exclusive use. Desdemona invariably evinced a distinct partiality for pillows. No one knew positively (politeness made them forgetful), but they hinted at a romantic little episode in connection with her liege lord.

Macbeth and his wife, a picture of radiant mischief, rode over in a horseless carriage. Portia, in dazzling cap and gown and with her old time regal, or rather legal air, was escorted by Shylock. Rosalind, Viola and Katharine arrived in a private car, while Richard entered en cheval tremendously distingué in stunning riding breeches.

Hamlet, deep in the mysteries of "Punch," sauntered in, wearing a tweed suit and grey fedora. Ophelia followed in a Norfolk jacket and divided skirt, while a cigarette case dangled helplessly from an over-burdened châtelaine. She carried a bouquet of rosemary, pansies, fennel, columbine, rue and daisies which she had gathered at the brook, where several years before she met with that famous accident. She and Hamlet were a model couple and occupied the ancestral castle of Elsinore. The Dane was little changed, albeit he was given to a playful habit of writing jokes (?) for the comic weeklies. His former melancholy was not in evidence. The guests were engaged in conversation when suddenly there was a lull, and glad cries of welcome announced the advent of the hero of the day, William Shakespeare, Esquire (he was not knighted during the Jubilee), who strode up the lawn to pay his devoirs to Mrs. Montague. He wore knickers, very loud bicycle hose and a jaunty cap, while he chased the festive mosquitoes to "the undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveler returns," with a palm-leaf fan. He was the cynosure of all eyes. Behind trotted Touchstone, trundling Bill's wheel, which," as he explained to his hostess, "had got punctured down the road." Touchstone, catching a glimpse of Juliet's nurse in the shrubbery, ran quickly down the asphalt path ostensibly to admire the son and heir of the house of Montague, but in reality to flirt with the lady who perambulated the precious bundle of disturbance and Valenciennes lace.

The luncheon itself was a distinct success. Although the dishes were all English, the menu was written in French-a pretty conceit on the part of Madame the hostess, for it afforded the guests ample opportunity to juggle with their "Ollendorf," besides ex

Gentle Desdemona came with her husband, of course, and immediately ensconced herself among the wilderness of cushions in one of

ance of the fool-if you will call him so-that often in blindness plucks victory from defeat.

There is a tiger which preys upon men, and the bravest shrink at her call, yet obey. In private do their sisters urge them to resist or flee-but shall the tiger of the Bazaar lack one victim for her feast?

Nay, for the sisters themselves are the betrayers.

When the world which "loves a lover" loves him enough to let him and his love alone, as much before the engagement as it leaves them alone afterwards, it will have a chance of dancing at more weddings.

Children are unconscious poets. They are owners of two realms-the possessors of Everyday and the kingdom of Letspretend.

Though a man owns (without his overcoat) fourteen pockets, if he putteth on a summer suit he will grumble of a surety that he hath but eight.

Florence Hamilton Randal.

came irritated. Finally there was an entire cessation on the part of the interpreter, and yet Bismarck was going right on with everincreasing vehemence. There were constant calls from the lady of "What's he saying? What's he saying?" and an increase of impatience proportionate to the growing violence of the speaker. Finally the wretched interpreter could endure the strain no longer, and, turning with a gesture of fierce resentment to his excited employer, he hissed: "Madam, I am waiting for the verb."

A SYMPATHETIC INTERPRETATION. The lesson was from the Prodigal Son, and the Sunday school teacher was dwelling on the character of the elder brother. "But amidst all the rejoicing," he said, “there was one to whom the preparation of the feast brought no joy, to whom the prodigal's return gave no pleasure, but only bitterness; one who did not approve of the feast being held, and who had no wish to attend it. Now can any of you tell me who this was?" There was a breathless silence, followed by a vigorous cracking of thumbs, and then from a dozen sympathetic little geniuses came the chorus: "Please, sir, it was the fatted calf!"

BEATING THE RAILROAD.

An Irishman, after questioning the ticket agent at one of the depots of Chicago some time ago about the fare to New York, purchased a round-trip ticket and went out on the platform to wait for the train. He seemed to be in quite a cheerful mood, and when asked what it was he found so amusing, replied: "I'm beatin' the road.' It's a round-trip ticket I've bought, and I'm not comin' back!"

THE DEUTSCHE VERB.

Mark Twain, in his account of the German language, tells how "the intelligent German plunges into a sea of verbiage and comes up on the other side, like a dog, with his verb in his mouth." The same idea is illustrated in a story, told in the Century, of a lady who once listened, through the aid of an interpreter, to a speech made by Bismarck. All went well for a time, as the low voice of the painstaking translator rendered with some adequacy the thought of Bismarck. Then there

were short pauses, followed by rapid little summaries of what had been said. As these grew more and more frequent, the lady be

THE CARDINAL AND THE CASUIST.

The casuist, who was dining with the cardinal, was famous for beginning every sentence with the phrase, “I make a distinction," and his host, wishing to "draw" him for the general entertainment, asked him, as the soup was served: "Pray, father, can you tell us if it is ever lawful to baptize in soup?" "I make a distinction, your eminence," replied the casuist; "with ordinary soup it is by no means lawful to perform baptism, but your eminence's soup is perfectly suitable, as it differs in no way from water.'