rovoking! “I do believe,” says Miss Adelaide Cherton, “it's literally set in for rain.”

Mrs. Boodels, without troubling herself to raise her ear-trumpet, smiles blandly and proceeds with her knitting.

Happy Thought. A deaf person can always talk to herself, and obtain a hearing.

Miss Bella exclaims, “Oh, what shall we do if it rains?”

Whereupon Miss Medford observes that the gentlemen will amuse us.

[Miss Medford is an addition to our party. She was brought by Mrs. Orby Frimmely, and Mr. Frimmely subsequently came down with her brother Alfred Medford, a celebrated musical amateur, “of the nobility's concerts.” “A very interesting looking young man,” Mrs. Boodels observes aloud when he arrives, but she is a little afraid of him on finding that he can do a conjuring trick. He only has one.]

I continue reading the newspaper. I determine to withdraw presently to my own room, where I shall lock myself in and....

Happy Thought for Wet Day. Write letters. Jenkyns Soames observes that he shall devote his day to correcting his great work on Scientific Economy for the press. Mrs. Orby Frimmely says, that “it's wonderful to her, how Mr. Soames thinks of all the clever things he writes.”

Soames remarks upon this, modestly, that “he has made the one subject his study, and all his thoughts are given to its development.”

Mrs. Boodels requests that the Professor's last observation may be repeated to her.

Solo on the Ear-trumpet by Miss Medford. Milburd strolls in, then Boodels. Mrs. Boodels suddenly informs everyone that she is deeply interested in Mr. Soames' work, and, as it is a wet day, will he read some of it aloud to amuse us?

The ladies look at one another and smile. Mrs. Orby Frimmely exclaims, “Oh do,” and laughs.

Milburd says it's just the thing to while away a happy hour, and instances the Polytechnic as being his favourite place of amusement in London.

Mr. Soames replies to this that the Polytechnic and himself are different institutions.

“All right,” says Milburd; “go ahead!” Whereupon Milburd rushes into the library. Silence during his absence. It is broken by Medford asking Boodels if he's ever seen the trick with the shilling in the tumbler? Boodels replies that he has, but would like to see it again. Medford is just producing his shilling when the Professor returns. The Professor, who has been searching for something in his note book, now asks if they (the ladies) really wish to hear some of his new book.

“Oh! do!” enthusiastically everybody.

“I will fetch it down,” says the Professor, much pleased, and leaves the room.

Medford holds up the shilling and says, “You see this shilling.” Boodels begs his pardon for a minute, and, referring to the Professor, asks, “I say, haven't we let ourselves into too much of a good thing?”

Mrs. Frimmely observes “that it'll be something to do.”

Miss Adelaide says, “I hate lectures.”

Miss Bella strikes in with, “Well, if he bores, we can ask him questions.”

It appears that he's going to have a lively time of it.

Milburd re-enters; he has arranged the library, and begs us to “Walk up!” as if it were a show.

Medford observes that there will be time before the lecture begins to show his conjuring trick with the shilling.

Cazell interrupts him with the gong from the hall, and Chilvern plays a march on the piano. Medford pockets his shilling and observes that “he'll do it afterwards.” The Professor appears on the scene. He requests that there may be no Tomfoolery.

I say to him, “No, of course not,” as I really do wish Milburd would show some consideration, and treat the matter seriously.

Milburd apologises for his fun, and we attend the Professor to the library. There we find a black board, a glass of water, and a piece of chalk.

“I propose,” commences the Professor, “dealing with the Pleasures of Wealth.” “Brayvo!” from Milburd. Immediately frowned down by everybody.

“I have reduced the calculation to a simple formula, intelligible to all intellects of more or less cultivation.”

Medford asks me in a whisper if I do know his trick with a shilling. I return “hush” and look serious.

Winks between Byrton and Chilvern.

Catching the Professor's eye, Chilvern looks suddenly solemn and deeply interested. It is a pity that they will go on being buffoons.

“The study of algebra suggests the mode of treatment.”

Wry face made by Mrs. Frimmely.

Mrs. Boodels is seated, placidly, with her ear-trumpet raised and on her lips a smile of calm contentment, from which we subsequently infer that she doesn't catch one word. “As the wealth so the Pleasure. [Here he draws on his slate. Milburd inquires, ‘What's that?’ but is hushed down.]

“As x : 2 :: b : 5.

“The product of the extremes equals the product of the Means, and as long as this sum in proportion is observed, Ruin is impossible.

“? The key here is that b = £1,000,000.

“Then:—

5x = 2b
? x = 2b/5
= 2,000,000/5 = £400,000.

“Not a bad sum per annum,” says the Professor, smiling, in order to throw a little pleasantry into the matter, which is becoming a trifle heavy. Mrs. Boodels asleep. “Though I thought it was more when I commenced the equation.

“I will now,” he says, “write down a text.”

[Watches out .... a yawn from Cazell .... ladies restless.]

“To Give is a Wealthy Pleasure.

“And on this I make what I call ‘suggestions.’ “The poor man has it in his power to cause the Rich great pleasure.

“Let I stand for me.”

(“Impossible,” interrupts Milburd, sotto voce. Our Philosophic Lecturer takes no notice. He is rising with his subject).

“Let us say ‘I is poor.’”

Miss Bella says, “Excuse me a moment,” and vanishes. Wish I could get out.

“Let all I's rich friends subscribe according to their means from £5 upwards.

“Result, easily attained, £5,000.

“Say that eighty people subscribed £62 10s. apiece. Are there not eighty people in London, Manchester, and Liverpool who could do this and not miss it so much as I should miss a farthing put by accident into a Church plate—of course I mean by mistake for half a sovereign.

“But how could such a mistake arise? you would say.”

(We wouldn't, but he couldn't tell that.)

“Why simply because I never give less in Church than half a sovereign. Ergo, I never give in Church unless I have half a sovereign in my pocket. But I never have half a sovereign in my pocket.”

[Smiles from everyone, and applause from Milburd, towards whom the Professor looks appealingly, as much as to say, “There, I can be just as funny as you, only without Tomfoolery.”]

“Ergo ... cela va sans dire.

“So, you see, eighty people could make ‘I’ happy.

[Medford is practising his trick with a shilling by himself.]

“Which is equivalent to saying that eighty people could make me happy.

“And ‘I’ has it, you observe, in his power to make eighty people happy by accepting the subscription.”

Note, which I suggest to the Professor. Should this ever meet the eye of Baron Rothschild, let him remember, that by his single act, he can attain to the happiness of eighty people.

“If any of you, here present, happen to be acquainted with the Baron, and will introduce me to him, it will be, I am sure, a step in the interests of humanity generally, and not without its beneficial results to individuals particularly.” (“Hear! hear!”)

.......

With this bit of Practicality the lecture concludes.

He tells me, in confidence, that he finished quickly because he felt he was “above his audience.” Milburd subsequently offers to introduce the Professor to Baron Rothschild “for a consideration.”

***

No one, as yet has found any of the pleasures of Poverty.

Some one says “Absence of Income-tax.” This is met with Absence of Income. Solution rejected.

***

We found afterwards on our Scientific Lecturer's table MSS. of

“Letters to Rothschild” by a Professor of Scientific Economy.

One commences thus:—

Dear Baron,

You will doubtless be surprised at hearing from an humble individual who has nothing but his Scheme of Personal Scientific Economy, and his unblemished character, to recommend him to your notice.

I am getting up a subscription for myself. This sounds, put shortly, egotistical. On the contrary, it is Cosmopolitanly Philanthropical. If I am enabled to teach my doctrines for nothing, I shall, then, be slave to no man, no, not even to myself, as represented by my own necessities. May I head the list with a sum worthy your munificence and perfectly Oriental wealth? Yes. I hear you say ‘yes.’ I knew it. I shall put your Lordship down for £20,000, and will be careful to send you a receipt for the money. Business is business.

Yrs., &c.

J. Soames.

***

Perhaps one day the Professor of Scientific Economy will publish his “Letters to Baron Rothschild.” But I don't think there will ever appear a very voluminous collection of “Letters of Baron R. to Mr. Jenkyns Soames.”

Milburd asks him “what he should say were the pleasures of poverty.”

The Professor considers.

We all consider.

The Professor wishing to do everything methodically, writes on the slate in large type THE PLEASURES OF POVERTY.

First Pleasure......

.....
.... Then he pauses. Then he speaks. “On thorough consideration, I am convinced that Poverty has no pleasures.

“If any, they are peculiar.

“They are Grim Pleasures.

“One grim Pleasure of Poverty is talking about ourselves.”

“A very poor subject,” observes Miss Medford.

After a silence, during which I am just on the point of saying something, but don't, the Professor adds,

“No. We try very hard, but can not see any pleasure in Poverty.”