the throat—with what significance need not
be so much as hinted at.

Looking next to the fairer portion of that
company, not very much would be said in
their praise, being of many types, from
Modiste's head-woman down to the lady that
waits at the French confectioner's in the
next street. The stranger recognises many
familiar faces as he looks around. Distinctly
does he recollect purchasing a meerschaum
porte cigar, curiously wrought with effigy of
dog couchant, from the lady in the singularly
curt robe. He recognises, too, La Belle Julie
(as she is popularly called), who sits in the
rostrum at the Café de la Fontaine, and hands
gentlemen their change. There is pointed
out to him, too, a belle of the town, arrayed
in costly satin and laces, said to be daughter
to an opulent master tanner. Also pointed
out are certain Jewish sisters of bold aspect,
held to be heiresses. To whom the cavaliers
in the tightly-buttoned garments pay
assiduous court.

Still the dancing proceeds merrily, though
the elements are but rude pottery, not
choicest porcelain, and with all the
courtesies and ceremonial of an imperial festival.
True, there is a certain springiness and
superfluity of action which might strike
the beholder as too fatiguing to be adopted
by higher circles. There is also plentiful
salaaming, and shrugging, and other
posturing. Nevertheless, as has been said, it is
a pleasant scene, and it is not lawful to be
too critical. Valse follows on the heels of
contre danse, and to valse succeeds graceful
polka, mazurka; until, towards twelve o'clock,
signal is given for the famous cotillon which
is to wind up all.

A cotillon, composed of a hundred people or
more sitting round in a gigantic horseshoe;
white dresses being set off effectually by the
dark polished floor. It was pleasant to view
certain mysteries performed in the centre by a
select few, followed close by the grande ronde,
or tumultuous pandemonial whirl; followed
again by more ingenious figuring in the centre,
and tumultuous round as before. Then were
the little coloured flags brought forth and
distributed, upon which followed ingenious
complications—wrong flags getting together—
until, finally, all was made straight; and,
flags and partners being now happily paired,
all went round once more in the grand
pandemonial whirl. Finally came the
last act of this famous cotillon—a
great table being brought in, heaped high
with fragrant bouquets, which were
distributed in a pretty, fanciful kind of way,
ending with grande ronde as before—thus
bringing to a close this commemorative
festivity.

Early next morning, before the money-
bound had yet risen, a letter was brought in
and laid upon his pillow. It contained the
wished-for remittance. With light heart he
arose, cheerily consumed his last breakfast
there, and by noon had gone on his way
rejoicing, leaving behind him the ancient
town and its sulphuric waters.

MAY-MEETING AT WESTMINSTER.

LEND me your pulpit for five minutes,
because I am full of joy. People of England,
rejoice much in the May meeting of your
chosen ones. Do you say that I and my
brethren talk to you about Jerusalem and
Timbuctoo, that we bid you pay for our
dealings with the Jew and the African, that
we bid you hear much talk of Jew and
African, and that we do not look sufficiently
at home. I, Burnup Howell, look at home
for you; I see a May meeting in
Westminster, and I opine what I opine. Behold
I reason with you in the manner of the
heathen from the pulpit of the heathen. The
nation—habitans in sicco—cries, Revered
Burnup Howell, what do you opine? Preach
to us in Westminster Abbey if you like, or
in Household Words if you like; but only
let us hear from your noble and powerful
lungs what you opine.

Elect of England, in May Meeting assembled,
having found a Speaker and done
swearing, will hold forth. They will hold
forth upon affairs of the far East, they will
hold forth upon affairs of the far West; but,
as parts of a meeting sworn in May, they
will know better than to widen out the
nostrils over that which shall lie close under the
nose. May we salute thee with our early
song, and welcome thee and wish thee long.
Now the Chinese debate in Parliament,

Comes dancing from the east, and leads for you
The flowery May.

He was a wise man who called May the
flowery. In honour of the month, I scatter
blossoms from the May-bush. What, Britons,
is your Parliament but a great May-bush?

There are two sorts of May—May
problematical and May potential. The government
may fill up with the Revered Burnup
Howell the next vacancy in the Archbishopric
of Canterbury: that is May problematical.
What is offered to me I may take, and that
is May potential. The people wanting some
domestic legislation, and having chosen its
elect with a view to that, the elect of the
people of England may begin to work at the
disencumbering of England from unreasonable
hindrances to progress: that is May
potential. The elect of the people may do that
for which they are elected: that is May
problematical.

Parliament May, if it will—I wish it may,
says the nation—bring the schoolroom nearer
to my children, by at any rate saying that
any community of Englishmen may, if it
will, rate itself in aid of education. Parliament
May, indeed—May problematical.
Parliament May, if it will—I wish it may, says the
nation—take some pity on the fagged limbs of