They had scarcely been engaged in this manner ten minutes when the
Surgeon-Field-Marshal-Commanding-in-Chief cantered up to them. "Men,"
he cried, "drop your surgical instruments, and draw your swords. The
enemy are again upon us! We must take their fort!"

In a moment the Royal Regiment was on the march. On their way, some of
their comrades, wounded by the foe (in a bungling fashion), appealed
to them for succour.

"Very Sorry," replied the Surgeon-Field-Marshal-Commanding-in-Chief,
in a tone of commiseration; "very sorry indeed, but we can't attend to
you. At this moment we are acting in our strictly military capacity!"
And the Royal Regiment of Physicians and Surgeons, full of enthusiasm
(but in rather loose formation) continued their march to the fort.

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

[Illustration: Night Mare.]

_Tourmalin's Time Cheques_, drawn on the bank of eccentric imagination
by ANSTEY-GUTHRIE, is well worthy of the author of _Vice Versâ_. The
construction of the story is as artful as it is artistic, but the
Baron cannot give his reason for this opinion without jeopardising
the reader's pleasure. Still the Baron feels pretty certain that when
the much-amused and greatly-chuckling but diligent and conscientious
peruser of this light-hearted romance arrives at the last few pages,
he will frown, rub his eyes, refer back to the very commencement of
the story,--and then? Will he bless ANSTEY and blow GUTHRIE, or bless