Who bit a Mrs, Nickleby would ever have conjured up such a eonetrouyly incongruous associa~ tion of ideas? But she does so, and, with becoming gravity, air don't know how but a fine warm summer day like this, with the birds singing every direction, always puts mind of roast pig, with sage and sauce, and made gravy." sociation of dens, is it not, mama?"
"Upon my word, my dear, I don't know," replied ' Mrs, Nickleby. "Roast pig; let me see. On the day five weeks after you were christened, we had @ roast—no that couldn't have been a pig, either, because recollect there were a pair of them to eave, and your poor papa and I, could never have thought of been partridge: pig! hardly think we" could ever have had one, now I come to remember, for your papa could never bear} the sight of them in the shops, and ed to say that they always put him in mind of very little babies, nly the pigs had much fairer com-plosions; and he had a horror of little babies, too, because he couldn't very well afford any increase to his family, and had a natural dislike to the subject. It's very odd now, what can hive put that in my head! 1 recollect dining once at Mrs. "Bevan's, in the broad street rourfl the comer by—_the coachmaker's, where the tipsy_man fell through' the flap of an empty house nearly a week before! the quarto and wasn't found till the new tenant went in and we had roast pig there. It must be that, I think, that reminds me of it, especially ' as there was a little Bird in the room that would keep! on singing All the time we were at! Ginner at least, not a little bird, for it was a parrot, and he didn't sing exactly, for he talked and swore dreadfully; but I think it must be that. Indeed I am sure must."
Of course Mr, Edwin Charles fneludes- that" disreputable, dirty, drinking bat delightful old woman,! Sairey. Camp. with Betsy Prig and the mysterious Mrs. Harris, The Child-Wite We go from fun fo pathes when' we read the description of David Copperficld's Dora, which Mr, Edwin Chavles rightly "includes. " David! and Dora are duly married and settle down in their little cottage. And stern, grim, gnarled Aunt Betsy, Trotwood" christens Dora "Little Blossom." Here is what Mr. Edwin Charles says about David's parting, with Dor dickens wrote many, beautifully pathetic death scenes; those of Paul Dombey and Little Nell will, T suppose, ever hold first, place; but David's parting - with, Dora is, to me, so infinitely touching and tender that I hesitate to say a word about it. But I hope it not irreverent of me to say that!
drama at its highest and fonsest. At the moment - when the dog, Jip, having stretched himself out at David's feet, as if to sleep, with a little plaintive ery, dies, 'Agnes enters the room, and, with praised hand, mutely' announces, Dora's dear!
My. Edwin Charles has provided a book which one can pick up and enjoy at odd times. The book will, we feel sure, become a, favourite bedside book. One should not miss the preface by Mr. G. K. Chesterton.
G. 8. Foster Kemp, In connexion with the recently published "Silhouettes of Peking," by D. De Marzel and L. de Hoyer, which seems to be causing some discussion as to its merits, Messrs. Kelly & Walsh wish to make it clear that they are neither the publishers nor the distributors of this work, as
sellers, Previously announced, but "merely A few months ago, when he was ying very seriously ill at his country ome at Burwash, Syssex, it did not look as if the present season would see the publication of a new book by Mr. Rudyard Kipling. several years now since Mr. Kipling gave us a new bedl:, and his latest, [Debits and Credits, will be hailed on that account with even greater enthusiasm. It will consist of poems! and short stories, introduced by a poem which Mr. Kipling hae written specially for the secasion.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.