And Juggins slinked into obscurity with fallen chops.

Benevolent and forbearing readers, this una.s.suming tale is near its _finis_. Owing to his brilliant success at the Derby, Mr Bhosh was now rolling on cash, and, as the prediction of the Astrologer-Royal was fulfilled, there was no longer any objection to his union with the Princess Jones, with whom he accordingly contracted holy matrimony, and now lives in great splendour at Shepherd's Bush, since all his friends earnestly besought him that he was not to return to India. He therefore naturalised himself as a full-blooded British, and further adopted a coat-of-arms from the Family Herald, with a splendidly lofty crest, and the motto "_Sans Peur et Sans Reproche_." ("Not being funky myself, I do not reproach others with said failing"--_free translation_.)

But what of the wicked d.u.c.h.ess? I have to record that, being unable to pay the welsher her bet of a million pounds, she was solemnly p.r.o.nounced a bankruptess and incarcerated (by a striking instance of the t.i.t-for-tat of Fate) in the identical Old Bailey cell to which she had consigned Chunder Bindabun!

And in her case the gaoler's fair daughter, Miss Caroline, did not exhibit the same softheartedness. Mr Bhosh and his Princess-bride, being both of highly magnanimous idiosyncrasies, for some time visited their relentless foe in her captivity, carrying her fruit and flowers and sweets of inexpensive qualities, but were received in such a cold, standoffish style that they soon discontinued such thankless civilities.

As for _Milky Way_, she is still hale and flourishing, though she has never since displayed the phenomenal speed of her first (and probably her last) Derby race. She may often be seen in the vicinity of Shepherd's Bush, harnessed to a small basketchaise, in which are Mr and Mrs Bhosh and some of their blooming progenies.

Here, with the Public's kind permission, we will leave them, and although this trivial and unpretentious romance can claim no merit except its undeviating fidelity to nature, I still venture to think that, for sheer excitement and brilliancy of composition, &c, it will be found, by all candid judges, to compare rather favourably with more showy and meretricious fictions by overrated English novelists.

END OF A BAYARD FROM BENGAL.

_N.B.--I cannot conscientiously recommend the Indulgent Reader to proceed any further--for reasons which, should he do so, will be obvious. H. B. J._

THE PARABLES OF PILJOSH

FREELY RENDERED INTO ENGLISH FROM THE ORIGINAL STYPTIC WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY H. B. JABBERJEE, B.A.

INTRODUCTION

I shall begin by begging that it may not be supposed either that _I_ am the Author or even the Translator of the appended fables!

The plain truth of the matter is that I am far indeed from standing agog with amazement at their literary or other excellences, and inclined rather to award them the faint d.a.m.nation of a very mediocre eulogy.

But it so happens that the actual translator is the same young English friend who kindly furnished me with a few selected poetic extracts for my Society novel, and has earnestly entreated me (as the _quid pro quo_!) to compose an introduction and notes for his own effusion, alleging that it is a _sine qua non_ nowadays for all first cla.s.s Cla.s.sics to be issued with introduction, notes and appendix by some literary k.n.o.b--otherwise they speedily become obsolete and still-born.

Therefore I readily consented to oblige him, although I am no _au fait_ in the Styptic dialect, and cannot therefore be held answerable for the accuracy of my friend's translation, which he admits himself is of a rather free description.

Of the Philosopher who composed these Proverbs or Fables little is known, even in his own country, except that (as all Scholiasts are aware) he was born on the 1st of April 1450 (old style), and for some years filled the important and responsible post of Archi-mandrake of Paraprosdokian. He probably met with a violent end.

I shall not undertake to provide a note to _every_ parable, but only in cases where I think that the Parabolist is not quite as luminous as the nose on one's face, and needs the services of an experienced interpreter. H. B. J.

The b.u.t.terfly visited so many flowers that she fell sick of a surfeit of nectar. She called it "Nervous Breakdown."

"Instead of vainly lamenting over those we have lost," said the young Cuckoo severely, to the Father and Mother Sparrow, "it seems to me that you should be rejoicing that _I_ am still spared to you!"

_Note._--A mere plagiaristic adaptation of the trite adage concerning the comparative values of birds in the hand and in the bush.--H. B. J.

"I am old enough to be thy Grandfather!" the Egg informed the Chicken.

"In that case," replied the Chicken, "it is high time thou bestirredst thyself!"

"Not so!" said the Egg, "since the longer I remain quiescent, the fitter I shall be for the career that is destined for me."

"Indeed," inquired the Chicken, "and what may _that_ be?"

"_Politics!_" answered the Egg with importance.

And the Chicken pondered long over that saying.

_Note._--I must confess to following the Chicken's precedent, without arriving at any solution. For, logically, an Egg must be the junior of any Chicken. And again, even for parabolical purposes, it is far-fetched to represent an Egg as a potential Member of Parliament. On the whole, I am not entirely satisfied that my young friend is so proficient in acquaintance with Cryptic as he has represented to me.--H. B. J.

There is only one thing that irritateth a woman more than the man who doth not understand her, and that is the man who doth.

A certain Artificer constructed a mechanical Serpent which was so marvellously natural that it bit him in the back. "Had I but another hour to live," he lamented in his last agonies, "I would have patented the invention!"

The Woman was so determined to be independent of Man that she voluntarily became the slave of a Machine.

_Note._--I do not understand the meaning of the Fabulist here.--H.

B. J.

"She used to be so fresh; but she is gone off terribly since I first knew her!" said the Slug of the Strawberry.

_Note._--See my remark on the last parable.--H. B. J.

"Now, I call that downright Plagiarism!" observed the a.s.s, when he heard the Lion roar.

"A cheery laugh goes a long way in this world!" remarked the Hyena.

"But a bright smile goes further still!" said the Alligator, as he took him in.

_Note._--If the honble Philosopher is censuring here merely the a.s.sumption of hilarity and not ordinary quiet facetiousness, I am entirely with him. But I rather regard him as a total deficient in Humour and fanatically opposed to it in any form.--H. B. J.

"I trust I have now made myself perfectly clear?" observed the Cuttlefish, after discharging his ink.

The c.o.c.kney was a.s.sured that, if he placed the Sea-sh.e.l.l to his ear, he would hear the murmur of Ocean.