One story more. The lion and the horse
disputed one day as to whose eyesight was best.
The lion saw in a dark night a white hair in
milk; the horse saw a black hair in pitch. So
the horse won.

SMALL-BEER CHRONICLES.

IN the second column of the Times advertisement-
sheet appeared, the other day, these mysterious
words, "Audi, vidi, tace"—coupled with the
announcement that a trustworthy personage was
just about to start for the Continent with a view
to certain "private inquiries." The advertisement
was inserted by one Messrs. Pollaky and Co.

Now, here is a new state of things. This
organised spy system has sprung into existence
quite recently. By the advertisements issued
from this office of Mr. Pollaky's, and from another
similar establishment kept by retired Inspector
Field, you are invited to place in the hands of
these gentlemen any affair you want cleared up,
entrusting the particulars to them, relying on
their secresy, and on the diligence they will
show in serving you. But what sort of inquiries
are those in which the ex-detectives are ready
to engage? What sort of people are those who
apply to Messrs. Pollaky and Field for their
secret services?

I wonder to what extent the establishments
of these purveyors of useful information are
patronised by the public? Of one thing I am
quite sure—there are more men to be seen standing
about at the corners of streets than there used
to be. Are these men—they are generally seedy
in their attire, and in the habit of sucking small
pieces of straw or chewing the stalks of leaves to
while away the time—are these men the agents
of Pollaky and Co., and for what are they on the
look-out? For more things, depend on it, than
are dreamed of in our philosophy. When Mrs.
Drinkwater Dreggs gives two dinner-parties, one
following the other, all the guests who are invited
to one of those festivals are instantly seized with
a firm conviction that the dinner to which they are
not asked is the distinguished one, while the meal
at which they are invited to figure is the second-rate
affair. Now, it is not too much to suppose
that these suspicious personages are in the habit
of putting their difficulties in the hands of Messrs.
Pollaky and Co. Away goes the trustworthy
emissary to Wilton-crescent. He plants himself
under the lamp-post, he observes what proportion
the cabs which drive up to Mrs. Dreggs's door bear
to the private carriages, he studies the appearance
of the guests, and, being a shrewd individual,
forms his own opinion as to their rank
in the social scale; or, if unable to do this,
perhaps he will get into conversation with the
waiter, who comes to the door for a little air
while the gentlemen are over their wine, and
from him learns exactly what sort of company is
being entertained within. With the information
he has gained, the trustworthy one returns to his
employer, and next morning the Seedymans,
who were at the first party, and who had the
pleasure of meeting a society of nobodies, who,
for the most part, reached their destination in
cabs and flies, learn that, on the occasion of the
second festival, there was a "regular swell turnout,
with only one cab, and that a Hansom; and
that the company comprised, among other
distinguished persons, a baronet and his lady, a
dowager-countess, a genius, two members of
parliament, and consorts, and a cabinet minister."
This knowledge the Seedymans then take to their
hearts, and batten thereon to their souls' hurt,
but with a certain malignant pleasure,
nevertheless.

Or, still keeping to this question of dinner-giving,
what facilities are afforded to rival house-keepers,
through the agency of Pollaky and Co.,
for observing the amount of aid which is given
to each by the neighbouring pastrycook! When
Mrs. A. last dined with Mrs. B., it struck her
that the entrées had a professional look and
flavour; so, the next time Mrs. B. entertains her
friend and neighbour, she—instructed by Pollaky
—will remark, as the pastrycook's vol-au-vent
circulates, " My dear, what an excellent cook you
have got; where did you find such a treasure?"

Probably, also, there is a certain amount of
occupation furnished to the Pollaky fraternity by
that cupidity and desire for gain which dwells
in a few human bosoms. When the heirs
apparent, presumptive, or expectant, of a wealthy
gentleman clean past his youth, hear of his
forming such and such new acquaintances, is it
likely that Pollaky's Trustworthy one will be
forgotten? Will he not be there, at the corner
by the lamp-post, watching the frequency of the
visits paid by the new friends? Or, suppose it is
an aged and single aunt well represented in the
British Funds, whose movements are viewed with
suspicion. Suppose a host of cousins, with an
enterprising mamma, come up from the country,
and take a house a few doors from that of the
interesting fundholder; is it likely that Pollaky
will be forgotten then? Imagine the report which
the Trustworthy one would send, in this case, and
the consternation it would create. "Sep.10,186—
Took up position at corner at 11 A.M.—Position
commanding a view of the premises occupied by
both the parties whose movements I was directed
to watch, namely, No.7, the residence of Miss
Stocks, and No.13, occupied temporarily by Mrs.
Hunter and daughters.

"11.15. Servant-maid steps out from No.13
with plate of hothouse grapes and book, rings
at No.7, holds long conference with servant—
elderly female—leaves both book and grapes,
and retires. Shortly afterwards, female servant
emerges from No.7 with same book and grapes
and rings at No.13, delivers grapes and book
and message, which I was too far off to hear.
Servant, however, of No.13 looks blank, and
closes door. Servant from No.7 returns home.

"11.45. Bath-chair appears in street and
draws up—empty—in front of No.7. A lady—