“That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. It was instantly answered by the deep note of St. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. “I know that our social order is dreadful enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. Mr.
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