THE "FLANEUR."

Thames Star, Volume XII, Issue 3796, 26 February 1881, Page 3

THE "FLANEUR."

The editor of the Rankeville Roarer, up at the big gulch, becoming convinced that every first class journal should possess at least one correspondent in Europe* concluded to concoct a weekly letter from some mythical representative abroad —a practice, we regret to say, much in vogue. among the "patent inside" fraternity. These comtsmnications he signed " Flaneur," a norn de plume adopted by all country papers, for some occult reason, and the following extract from the last instalment in the Roarer is so redolent of this foreign correspondence, and so irresistibly suggestive of its spirit that we publish it as possibly throwing some light on the origin of the continental news found in those admirable journals :— I attended a drawing-room at the Tower, says Flaneur, and wore the pea green gros grain with seed pearl trimming described in laßt letter. While I was chatting, with the Duke of Shrewsbury (owner of the Shrewsbury Oyster Mines), the Queen slipped up behind and put her hands over my eyes. " Guess who it is," said the Dulie.

I felt the pressure of a big seal ring the Queen wears against my cheek, so I said at onee—

"Why, it's Vie." Ererybody laughed and the Queen said—

" How cute you Americans are. What a loTely dress you have on; I must really import one of your New York dressmakers. [Vie. is a terrible dowdy.] I wish you'd lend me the pattern of that basque." " Couldn't think of it, Queen," I said; upon which she began teasing me to come down and spend a couple of weeks at Windsor.

"Do, now," she insisted, "and we'll have such lots of fun. I'll have a stove put up in the spare room. We'll get Wales down from the city, make up picnic parties, and have a good time generally." " I think Wales has other fish to fry," said I, winking towards where he was buzzing Mrs Langtry out on the stairs." '" I declare, there he is again with that stuck-up thing," said Victoria, getting very augry. " Let's go and interrupt them. Tell him you want to sell him some raffle chances."

"No you don't," says I, "two's company—three's a crowd; ta-ta Queen," and I slid off to get some ice cream with the Earl of Wellington, Vie. getting so mad that she slammed her crown in a corner and went up stairs to bed ia a fit of the sulks.

The Le Dusenberrys, from Nob hill, are here, and already have made a great sensation. At the Duchess of Wurtemburgh's last sociable they wore, &c, &c. If the above mentioned influential local contemporaries do not indignantly resent this palpable intrusion into their ehogen field, we miss our guess.