THE TATTOOER'S ART.

THE TATTOOER'S ART.THE TATTOOER'S ART.Exasperated Backer."'It 'im Charley; don't look at them pictures."

Exasperated Backer."'It 'im Charley; don't look at them pictures."

In April when the cuckoos callGlue both your optics on the ball.In May avoid the water-ouzelWhose warning note predicts a foozle.In Summer when the lies are goodPropel it smartly with the wood.In August should the peacock shriekRenounce the baffy for the cleek;But if your stroke becomes too "sclaffy"Give up the cleek and use the baffy.In Autumn when the lies are clammyReplace the brassie by the "Sammy."But when the course is dry and grassyReplace the "Sammy" by the brassie.In Winter when the lies are slimyBe up or in, or lay a stymie.When caddies chatter on the greenRebuke them, but remain serene.But when they hiccough on the teePay them their regulation fee.Whene'er you chance to top your driveBefore you speak count twenty-five.But if you slice into the roughThirty will hardly be enough.When beaten by a single puttYou may ejaculate, "Tut, tut."But if you're downed at dormy nineLanguage affords no anodyne.Where frequent pots the green environTake turf approaching with the iron.No game is lost until it's won;The duffer may hole out in one.If down the course the pill you'd punchBe careful what you eat at lunch.A simple cut from off the jointMay cure your shots to cover-point.But lobsters, trifle and champagneMay even prove the plus-man's bane.

In April when the cuckoos callGlue both your optics on the ball.

In April when the cuckoos call

Glue both your optics on the ball.

In May avoid the water-ouzelWhose warning note predicts a foozle.

In May avoid the water-ouzel

Whose warning note predicts a foozle.

In Summer when the lies are goodPropel it smartly with the wood.

In Summer when the lies are good

Propel it smartly with the wood.

In August should the peacock shriekRenounce the baffy for the cleek;

In August should the peacock shriek

Renounce the baffy for the cleek;

But if your stroke becomes too "sclaffy"Give up the cleek and use the baffy.

But if your stroke becomes too "sclaffy"

Give up the cleek and use the baffy.

In Autumn when the lies are clammyReplace the brassie by the "Sammy."

In Autumn when the lies are clammy

Replace the brassie by the "Sammy."

But when the course is dry and grassyReplace the "Sammy" by the brassie.

But when the course is dry and grassy

Replace the "Sammy" by the brassie.

In Winter when the lies are slimyBe up or in, or lay a stymie.

In Winter when the lies are slimy

Be up or in, or lay a stymie.

When caddies chatter on the greenRebuke them, but remain serene.

When caddies chatter on the green

Rebuke them, but remain serene.

But when they hiccough on the teePay them their regulation fee.

But when they hiccough on the tee

Pay them their regulation fee.

Whene'er you chance to top your driveBefore you speak count twenty-five.

Whene'er you chance to top your drive

Before you speak count twenty-five.

But if you slice into the roughThirty will hardly be enough.

But if you slice into the rough

Thirty will hardly be enough.

When beaten by a single puttYou may ejaculate, "Tut, tut."

When beaten by a single putt

You may ejaculate, "Tut, tut."

But if you're downed at dormy nineLanguage affords no anodyne.

But if you're downed at dormy nine

Language affords no anodyne.

Where frequent pots the green environTake turf approaching with the iron.

Where frequent pots the green environ

Take turf approaching with the iron.

No game is lost until it's won;The duffer may hole out in one.

No game is lost until it's won;

The duffer may hole out in one.

If down the course the pill you'd punchBe careful what you eat at lunch.

If down the course the pill you'd punch

Be careful what you eat at lunch.

A simple cut from off the jointMay cure your shots to cover-point.

A simple cut from off the joint

May cure your shots to cover-point.

But lobsters, trifle and champagneMay even prove the plus-man's bane.

But lobsters, trifle and champagne

May even prove the plus-man's bane.

"Thereupon the Labour party sang 'The Red Flag,' the deportees joining in the chorus, bearing their heads during the singing."

South Wales Echo.

A DEVOTEE OF 'THE DOCTRINE.'A DEVOTEE OF "THE DOCTRINE."

House of Lords, Monday, February 23rd.—Temporarily relieved from thoughts of Ulster or meditations upon Marconi, House gave itself up to bright debate on question not less attractive because of spice of personality. Spice acquired additional piquancy since it was not supposed to be there. Its absence was indeed formally insisted upon. "Oh no, we never mention him. His name is never heard." All the same, as debate went forward, namesdidoccur. Glances, furtively shot from side to side of House, casually rested upon particular seats, whether empty or occupied.

Lord Crewe (to Lord Selborne on his way to the Debate on the Sale of Honours).LordCrewe(to LordSelborneon his way to the Debate on the Sale of Honours)."I trust we shall have no stone-throwing."LordSelborne."I'm entirely with you. Too much stained-glass about, what?"

LordCrewe(to LordSelborneon his way to the Debate on the Sale of Honours)."I trust we shall have no stone-throwing."

LordSelborne."I'm entirely with you. Too much stained-glass about, what?"

Selborneintroduced subject by moving Resolution condemning principle that a contribution to Party funds should be a consideration to a Minister recommending to the Sovereign bestowal of a titular honour. Subject delicate one to handle. AsSelborneadmitted,Willoughby de BrokeandRibblesdalein succession concurring, it was not a Party question. Notorious that since the days of LordNorthboth political parties are tarred with same brush. Through difficult circumstancesSelborneadroitly picked his way in lively speech. Sorely handicapped by Resolution, the effect of which, even with assistance of other House, would, asRibblesdalepointed out, be absolutely nil. "In the end," he said, "both Houses would be only expressing a pious, almost a Pharisaical opinion."

This conceded, the Lords, having no work to do, might have done much worse than devote sitting to breezy debate.

Willoughby de Brokeat his best in his enunciation of principles upon which, were he dispenser of honours in the Radical camp, he would choose his peers. Whilst taking broad view of case on eugenic principles, he would be inclined to make selection in favour of childless candidates.

"The sons of newly-created Radical peers are," he shrewdly remarked, "almost certain to be Tories, while a Radical grandson of a Radical peer is a phenomenon never seen."

Incidentally the bold Baron took occasion to remark that his own title was conferred upon an ancestor in reward for active part taken in placing the Tudor dynasty on the throne. Some noble lords, whose patent to peerage is of rather more recent date, whilst agreeing generally with his views, thought this remark superfluous. Why drag in the Tudors?

Willoughby'sgraphic account of an interview with the agent of a moneyed applicant for honours was capped byRibblesdale, who confided to listening Senate particulars of occasions when, as a Whip he had from time to time been "approached."

Milner, shocked by what he regarded as frivolity, proposed to treat the subject "with a slight approach to seriousness." Proposal cast a blight over proceedings which were hurried to conclusion.

Business done.—Selborne'sResolution agreed to with verbal amendment.

House of Commons, Tuesday.—Resemblance of House of Commons to the sea never more strikingly illustrated than at to-night's sitting. For five hours and a half deadliest calm reigned. Benches less than half full. Questions droned through appointed period. House got into Committee of Supply on Civil Service estimates. Votes for Colonial Service offered occasion for debate on Camel Corps disaster in Somaliland last August.Luludefended in detail the policy and action of his department. At half-past eight, talk still dragging slow length along, he moved closure. Division on proposal to reduce the estimate, equivalent to vote of censure, ran Government majority up to 125.

Suddenly scene changed. It was the mid-dinner hour, period at which House is as a rule dismally empty. The four-hundred-and-seventy Members who had taken part in the division, instead of fleeing in accordance with custom as if fire had broken out, made for their seats, whence rose the buzz of excited talk that presages a tempest.

The miracle was worked by Ulster.Falle, having by favour of fortune at ballot-box secured portion of sitting as Private Member's property, moved Resolution calling uponPrime Minister, forthwith to submit to House his proposals for alteration of Government of Ireland Bill. Opposition mustered in support. Ministerialists whipped up to last man. When, following mover and seconder of Resolution,Premierappeared at the table he was welcomed by shout of exultant cheering. Significant contrast with his reception when, a fortnight earlier, he stood in same place and seemed inclined to dally with proposal for exclusion of Ulster. Instinctively, or through whispered information, Ministerialists knew he was now, as they put it, "going straight."

Their most sanguine expectation justified.Premierin fine fighting form.

"Gentlemen opposite," he scornfully said, "seem to think we here can be likened to a beleaguered garrison, driven by the stress of warfare into an untenable position with failing supplies, with exhausted ammunition, with shaken nerves, and that it is for them, the minority of this House, to dictate the terms of capitulation that are to determine whether we are to be allowed to surrender with or without the honours of war."

That sufficed to indicate his position. Whilst disclosure increased enthusiasm on Ministerial side it correspondingly inflamed passion on benches opposite.

There was an anxious moment when fisticuffs seemed imminent across the table in close proximity to shockedMace.Carsonmaking interruption (one of a continuous series),Premierthought it wasWalter Long, and severely enjoined him to restrain himself.Longhotly retorted that he had not spoken. Angry cheers and counter-cheers resounded in opposing camps.Premier, accepting assurance of his mistake, apologised. Fisticuffs postponed.

Warned by experience,Premiertook no notice whenMoore of Armaghshouted, "Why do you funk a General Election?" or when later he received from same source disclaimer of belief in his sincerity; or when another Ulster Member characterised forceful passage in his speech as "Tomfoolery."

Fresh roar of cheering broke over excited host of Ministerialists when by way of last wordPremierdeclared, "We are not going at the eleventh hour to betray a great cause."

Business done.—Proverbially swift descent from sublime to ridiculous. Demand of Opposition for instant disclosure of Ministerial plan altering Home Rule Bill met by Amendment from Liberal side declaring confidence in Government. This carried by majority of 73. When put as substantial Resolution eleven o'clock had struck. No opposed business may be taken after that hour. House accordingly forthwith adjourned. Record of night's business in Journals of House prepared for perusal of posterity is comprehended in word "That——"

Thursday.—House puzzled by question on Paper standing in name ofH. P. Croft. Member for Christchurch desires "to ask the Secretary of State for the Colonies whether he has received petitions in favour of immediate legislation dealing with imported plumage through all or any of the Prime Ministers of the States of Australia."

How, why and under what circumstances plumage should be "imported through" Prime Ministers of the Australian Commonwealth no one can guess. Generally agreed that, if such painful procedure actually be the Colonial custom, prohibitive legislation cannot be too soon undertaken.

Sydney Holland, for many years the prop and stay of the London Hospital, has taken his seat in the House of Lords on accession to the Viscountcy of Knutsford. Apart from hereditary claim, he is the ideal type of the class of peer whom reformers on both sides look to for restoration of the prestige and usefulness of the Upper Chamber. Nevertheless it is hoped he will not give up to Westminster what was meant for mankind—the splendid devotion of capacity and energy to the service of the sick poor of London.

Business done.—In Committee on Supplementary Estimates.

"Daily Mail" Heading.

Gentlemen opposite seem to think we here can be likened to a beleaguered garrison,..."Gentlemen opposite seem to think we here can be likened to abeleagueredgarrison, driven by the stress of warfare into an untenable position."—Mr.Asquithin the debate on Mr.Falle'sresolution.

"Gentlemen opposite seem to think we here can be likened to abeleagueredgarrison, driven by the stress of warfare into an untenable position."—Mr.Asquithin the debate on Mr.Falle'sresolution.

"Large Foot Path, very strong, reduced to 6s. 11d., less than half-price."

Advt. in "The Accrington Observer."

"Are we not having just a little too much London? A glance over our rapidly growing fixture list suggests that the predominance of the great Metrolopis in matters of golfing is becoming rather too pronounced."—Golfing.

It's not fair to the privonces.

"Members of the Chicago Bachelor Girls' Club, who number sixty at present, say they must receive affirmative answers to this list of questions before they will marry:... Have you bad habits, such as drinking or smoking to excess?..."—Daily Mirror.

"Members of the Chicago Bachelor Girls' Club, who number sixty at present, say they must receive affirmative answers to this list of questions before they will marry:

... Have you bad habits, such as drinking or smoking to excess?..."—Daily Mirror.

"The answer is in the affirmative."

"Then I am yours."

(A bull recently got into a china shop, but was coaxed out before any damage was done.)

Wecut but a decadent figure;Our virtues grow sickly and pale;Our forefathers' valour and vigourLive only in poem and tale;Our thews are beginning to soften;No more are we sturdy and hard;These facts have been often and oftenExplained to the bard.But still to despondent repiningHe never consented to yield;For comfort amid our decliningHe looked to the beasts of the field;Though others grew haggard with grief, heMaintained a refusal to quakeSo long as our bulls remained beefyAnd a steakwasa steak.But now thereiscause to repine, aDread portent of what to expect:A bull has gotloosein the chinaAnd nothing, no, nothing's been wrecked.Where fragments were wont to be scatteredLike forest leaves under a galeNot even a saucer was shatteredBy a flick of the tail.Oh, say, can this care for the teacupProclaim that the common decayIs busting the bovine physique upAnd hasting the horrible dayWhen the bard, too, must take up the storyThat the halo of England grows dim,Since the beef, whence she gathered her glory,Is void of its vim?

Wecut but a decadent figure;

Our virtues grow sickly and pale;

Our forefathers' valour and vigour

Live only in poem and tale;

Our thews are beginning to soften;

No more are we sturdy and hard;

These facts have been often and often

Explained to the bard.

But still to despondent repiningHe never consented to yield;For comfort amid our decliningHe looked to the beasts of the field;Though others grew haggard with grief, heMaintained a refusal to quakeSo long as our bulls remained beefyAnd a steakwasa steak.

But still to despondent repining

He never consented to yield;

For comfort amid our declining

He looked to the beasts of the field;

Though others grew haggard with grief, he

Maintained a refusal to quake

So long as our bulls remained beefy

And a steakwasa steak.

But now thereiscause to repine, aDread portent of what to expect:A bull has gotloosein the chinaAnd nothing, no, nothing's been wrecked.Where fragments were wont to be scatteredLike forest leaves under a galeNot even a saucer was shatteredBy a flick of the tail.

But now thereiscause to repine, a

Dread portent of what to expect:

A bull has gotloosein the china

And nothing, no, nothing's been wrecked.

Where fragments were wont to be scattered

Like forest leaves under a gale

Not even a saucer was shattered

By a flick of the tail.

Oh, say, can this care for the teacupProclaim that the common decayIs busting the bovine physique upAnd hasting the horrible dayWhen the bard, too, must take up the storyThat the halo of England grows dim,Since the beef, whence she gathered her glory,Is void of its vim?

Oh, say, can this care for the teacup

Proclaim that the common decay

Is busting the bovine physique up

And hasting the horrible day

When the bard, too, must take up the story

That the halo of England grows dim,

Since the beef, whence she gathered her glory,

Is void of its vim?

"£25 Reward. Lost, either at Folkestone Harbour or from a Pullman Car, a Gentleman's Fur Coat, lined with minx."

Morning Post.

"Miss Trenerry, wearing a coat of rose charmeuse, with white fur collar, and several gentlemen."—Express and Echo (Exeter).

"Young Man requires board and lodging in Carshalton; hot and cold bath preferred."

The Herald (Sutton).

He can't have it both ways at once.

"At the Gare de Lyon this afternoon Rolland was welcomed by General de Castelnau, who embraced him and took his arm to the buffet of the station, where a reception was held."—Daily Telegraph.

Generalde Castelnau. "Donnez-le un nom."

Tommy (his first visit to Madame Tussaud's). 'Mummy, can't that man talk either?'Tommy (his first visit to Madame Tussaud's)."Mummy, can't that man talk either?"

Tommy (his first visit to Madame Tussaud's)."Mummy, can't that man talk either?"

Ting-a-ling.

Patient Subscriber.Hullo.

Gruff Voice.Are you Bond and Lapel?

Patient Subscriber.I'm afraid you've got the wrong number. We're Gerrard 932041. The Society for the Prevention of Wet Feet amongst the Genteel Poor.

* * * * *

Ting-a-ling.

Same Patient Subscriber.Hullo.

Same Gruff Voice.Bond and Lapel?

S. P. S.No, they've given you the wrong number again. We're Gerrard 932041. Ring off, please.

* * * * *

Ting-a-ling.

S. P. S.Hullo.

S. G. V.Bond and Lapel? I'm Major——

S. P. S.My dear Sir, will you believe me that we'renotBond and Lapel? We're Gerrard 9-3-2-0-4-1. Don't let me have to speak to you again, there's a good fellow.

* * * * *

Ting-a-ling.

Exchange.You're thr-r-r-rough.

S. G. V.Bond and Lapel, dammit! I want——Don't you "tut" me, Sir.I tell you you are.

S. P. S.Oh, all right. Well, what can I do for you?

S. G. V.Eh?

S. P. S.I said, What can I do for you?

S. G. V.I'm Major Smith. I want you to make me——

S. P. S.Marjorie who? Speak up, please.

S. G. V.Major, M-a-j-o-r, Major. Major Smith. Can you hear that? I want you to make me a blue serge suit by to-morrow week.

S. P. S.A little louder.... That's better. If you'll wait a moment I'll just jot down your measurements.

S. G. V.Measurements! What the——! I'm Major Smith.

S. P. S.Hold the line a moment and I'll see if we have them. Are you holding on?... Hullo. Major Smith, you said? Sorry, but the fact is we've got two Major Smiths on our books. Would you kindly tell me which one you are?

S. G. V.I'm Major—Smith—of—3—Mecklington—Gardens—Kensington.

S. P. S.Oh, yes. Close to the Oval.

S. G. V.Kens-s-sington!

S. P. S.Oh, Kensington with an "s." Yes. I know. Well now, how would you like it made? Will you have the trousers to match? We're doing a very smart line in buff canary trouserings, just——

S. G. V.I saidA BLUE SERGE SUIT, Sir!

S. P. S.Sorry. I was thinking of the other Major Smith. Then we'll say trousers to match. Yes, I've got that. Do you wear them turned up or down? Down. Trousers turned down and sleeves turned up. No, both down. Yes. Now what about box pleats? Shall we say box pleats?

S. G. V.Don't you put any of your new-fangled dodges onmyclothes, young man, because I won't have it.

S. P. S.Nobox pleats. I'll make a special note of it. Then to-morrow fortnight without fail.

S. G. V.To-morrowWEEK. And if you don't send that dress suit of mine by six to-night——

S. P. S.Dress suit? Dress suit? What dress suit? This is the first I've heard of any dress suit.

S. G. V.What?

S. P. S.It can't be done, old chap. You'll have to borrow one for to-night.

S. G. V.Y-y-you insolent p-puppy. P-put me through to the manager.Atonce.

S. P. S.Thanks so much. Then I'll put you down for a subscription. The Society for the Prevention of Wet Feet amongst the Genteel Poor, you know.

S. G. V.——! ——! ——! (Biff ... bang ... ting-a-ling ... buz-z-z-z-z-z.)

S. P. S.Exchange.

Exchange.Number, please.

S. P. S.Put me through to the Repairs Department.... Oh, Repairs Department. I'm ringing up on behalf of Major Smith, of 3, Mecklington Gardens, Kensington. Send someone round at once, please. His telephone has burst.

£70,000 wanted for the Fabric."

Standard.

Another chance for Mr.Mallaby-Deeley.

"At last," I said, putting down my newspaper, "there is hope for England. Here is a man who announces his approaching marriage and hopes that wedding presents will not be sent."

"Pooh," said the lady of the house.

"Why," said I, "do you say 'pooh'?"

"Because," she said, "it's not a bit of good hoping for anything of, the sort. You might just as well abolish weddings at once. People won't go to one unless they have a chance of seeing their own present and admiring it so much that the detective begins to suspect them."

"Yes," I said, "isn't the detective splendid? Nobody ever fails to spot him, and yet there he is every time, firmly convinced that everybody takes him for the bridegroom's uncle or the bride's godfather by a former marriage, or something of that sort. I really do feel I couldn't do without the detective."

"There you are," she said. "You can't have the detective without the presents."

"Very well," I said, "we'll let presents go on a bit longer and chance it."

"And don't you forget," she said firmly, "that you've got to choose a present for George Henderson to-day."

"George Henderson?" I said dreamily. "Do you think George Hendersonwantsa present? Isn't he the sort which 'hopes that wedding presents will not be sent'? I've always felt he had a look in his eye which said, 'Dear old chap, I shall be married some day.—Whatever you do, don't send me a present.' Haven't you felt that about him, too?"

"No," she said, "I haven't. In fact George has always seemed to me the very man for a present. And now he's going to be married. It's the chance of a lifetime."

"Well, then," I said, "if you feel like thatyouought to buy the present. You'll do it better. You'll put more real feeling into it."

"That may be," she said, "but you 're going to London, and I'm not. You'll have to do it this time."

"Oh, very well," I said; "have it your own way; but I warn you I shall buy silver candlesticks."

The two elder girls, who had been listening with eager interest, now broke in.

"Dad," said Helen to Rosie, "is going to try for his old candlesticks."

"Yes," said Rosie; "but you'll see he won't be allowed."

"Cease, babblers," I said. "In earlier and less conjugal days no wedding was considered complete without my silver candlesticks. It was all so simple, too. I called at Gillingham's, wrote out a card, gave an address, and away went the present. And what's more, they all wrote back and said it was the one thing they had been longing for."

"Oh," said the lady of the house, "they'll write like that about anything. At any rate, we won't have candlesticks. They're quite useless now, you know. Nobody has candles."

"And that," I said, "is what makes candlesticks so valuable. There's nothing base and utilitarian about them. They are appreciated for their beauty, and there's an end of them. Do, do let me buy a pair for George Henderson."

"No," she said; "the whole of the rest of the silversmith's art is open to you, but we willnothave candlesticks."

"I told you so," said Rosie to Helen.

In the afternoon, accordingly, I wandered into the establishment of Messrs. Gillingham, jewellers, goldsmiths and silversmiths, and heaven knows what besides. For a few moments I steeped myself in the glittering magnificence of the objects displayed around me. Then a polite and very well-dressed young man—not my usual one, but a stranger—spoke to me.

"Are you being attended to, Sir?" he said.

"No," I said, "not yet. I'm not quite ready for it. Still, I may as well begin."

"Yes, Sir."

"What," I said, pointing to a diamond tiara, "is the price of that?"

Two ladies who were making a purchase turned round and gazed at me with an awe-struck but approving look. The young man was evidently much impressed.

"That," he said, "is one of our newest designs. The stones are all specially selected. The price"—he studied the little tag attached to it—"the price is £1,050; very cheap for the value."

"It is," I said, "wonderfully cheap. I can't think how you manage to do it. I will think about it. In the meantime I should like to see something smaller and not quite so valuable."

"Is it a wedding present, Sir?"

"Don't," I said, "let us call it a wedding present just yet." If we do it's sure to turn out a sugar-sifter. Let's think of it as a mere gift."

"Yes, Sir."

"Of course we may find that the man to whom we're going to give it is about to be married, but that will be only the long arm, won't it?"

"The—I beg your pardon, Sir;"

"A coincidence, you know; and we're not the men to be put off by coincidences, are we?"

"No, Sir. Would you like to see the manager, Sir?"

"No," I said, "the manager would only confuse me. Show me some silver inkstands and some sugar-jugs—I mean some claret-sifters—that is, some silver decanters, you know, and some silver fruit-baskets."

"Yes, Sir." He went away and returned with an inkstand.

"This," he said, "is a very favourite pattern. It combines a large inkpot and a match-stand and a rack for the pens——"

"I know," I said; "they never stay in it."

"No, Sir. And there's a little candlestick for sealing-wax——"

"I'll have it," I said feverishly. "Put it aside for me at once. This is really a most remarkable piece of luck."

"Yes, Sir. Anything else?"

"Yes," I said. "I'll have a sugar-sifter, too. Any sugar-sifter will do. I'm only doing it as a concession."

"Yes, Sir. Where shall I send them?"

I gave the address with great gusto, and when I reported the result of my labours at home I said nothing about the little candlestick. The mere joy of having bought it was enough for me. Thus George Henderson received from us his fifth inkstand and his seventh sugar-sifter. He wrote and said that they were the two things he had most been wishing for.

R. C. L.

"He looked at her with infinite gentleness. 'I know all about it,' he said.She covered her face with her hands and cried brokenly. But, coming closer, he put both hands on her shoulders, and lifted her tea-stained face to his."—Tasmanian Courier Annual.

"He looked at her with infinite gentleness. 'I know all about it,' he said.

She covered her face with her hands and cried brokenly. But, coming closer, he put both hands on her shoulders, and lifted her tea-stained face to his."—Tasmanian Courier Annual.

Tea merchants are invited to compete for the advertisement.

"Hodgkins, however; drew ahead, and finally won as stated, the scores being: Hodgkins, 400; Sunderland, 367. The winner's best breaks were 24 and 17 (twice), and the doser's 32, 25, and 20."

Sporting Life.

He should have made the dose stronger.

Dog Pincher (to possible purchaser). 'I wouldn't sell 'im for fifty quid, only they don't allow no dawgs in our flats....'Dog Pincher (to possible purchaser)."I wouldn't sell 'im for fifty quid, only they don't allow no dawgs in our flats at Mallaby Mansions."

Dog Pincher (to possible purchaser)."I wouldn't sell 'im for fifty quid, only they don't allow no dawgs in our flats at Mallaby Mansions."

"Is that you, Herbert?" I said in surprise.

It was.

Strange how machinery can influence a man. The last time I had seen Herbert he was a rubicund cheerful gardener. He was now a London taxi-driver, with all the signs of that mystery on him: the shabbiness, the weariness, the disdain.

"Are you glad you gave up gardening?" I asked him.

"Can't say I am now," he replied. "There's more money in this, but the work's too hard. I miss my sleep, too."

"You can always go back," I said.

"I wonder," he replied. "I'd like to. This being at every one's beck and call who happens to have a shilling is what I'm tired of."

"What about tips?" I asked.

"I get plenty of them," he said. "In fact, if the clock registers tenpence or one and fourpence or one and tenpence I practically always get the odd twopence. That's all right. It's the people who don't want to tip but daren't not do it that I can't stand. And there are such lots of them. That's what makes taxi-drivers look so contemptuous like—the tips. People think we want the tips; but there's a time when we'd rather go without them than get them like that."

I sympathised with him.

"Then there are the fares who always know a quicker way than we do. They're terrors. They keep on tapping on the glass to direct us, when we know all about it all the time. It's them that leads to some of the accidents, because they take your eyes off the road."

I sympathised again and made some mental notes for future behaviour myself.

"But the pedestrians are the worst," he continued.

"The pedestrians?"

"Yes, the people who walk across the road without giving a thought to the fact that there might be a vehicle coming. The people that never learn. The people that call you names or make faces at you after you've saved their silly lives by blowing the hooter at them. Every minute of the day one is having trouble with them, and it gets on one's nerves. It's them that makes a taxi-driver look old sooner than a woman."

"So you'll go back to the land?" I said.

"I don't know," he said. "I'd like to, but petrol gets into the blood, you know."

I suppose it does.

"Dr. Grenfell remarked that the tourist traffic [to Labrador] was beginning to grow. Life in winter was very attractive, and was enjoyed as people enjoyed winter in Norway. One of his few personal reminiscences was how he fell through the ice and expected to be frozen to death."—Manchester Guardian.

Us for Labrador, every time.

Paragraph in a petition addressed to a Government official by a Baboo who wished to protest against the conduct of another Baboo:—

"His hatred of me is so much that in the heat of his animosity he wilfully omitted to put in the formal ephithet 'Mr.' to my name, which no man of honour would drop because not so much for disregarding me, but that he would be doing injustice to the European etiquette."

"I'mabout fed up with God's Own Country," says the waster in the play, a youth who, after exchanging a safe thousand a year at Bridge for the dangerous delights of "Chemin-de-fer," had been invited by a stern sire to migrate to Canada. And even so he had not been present during the Third Act to see the things that we saw, or he would have learnt some more discouraging facts which are never mentioned in the philosophy of the emigration-agents; for example, that the solitude and wide spaces of the Golden West seem to induce, even in the honest native worker, a reversion to the state of a dragon of the prime. But he had already seen, in the case ofNorah Marsh, whom poverty had driven to seek the shelter of her brother's roof on a Manitoba farm, how the drudgery and petty jealousies of a narrow Colonialménage, the familiar society of hired hands, and the lack of life's common amenities, had developed a gently-bred Englishwoman into a sour-tongued shrew.

Extract from 'The Prentice' (Manitoba)Extract from "The Prentice (Manitoba) Post":—"The wedding was quite an impromptu affair, the happy pair going straight to Mr. Taylor's shack, where they are spending the honeymoon quietly."NorahMissIrene Vanbrugh.Frank TaylorMr.Godfrey Tearle.

Extract from "The Prentice (Manitoba) Post":—"The wedding was quite an impromptu affair, the happy pair going straight to Mr. Taylor's shack, where they are spending the honeymoon quietly."

NorahMissIrene Vanbrugh.

Frank TaylorMr.Godfrey Tearle.

Worse was to follow when, as a sole escape from the bitter spite of her plebeian hostess, she consented to marry a barbarian who was looking for a woman-of-all-work to manage his primitive shack. Here, having already mislaid her feminine charm, she loses all sense of honesty. First, when ordered to do her household duties—which were of the essence of the contract—she declines to obey till he uses brute force; and then, when he demands of her the attitude of a wife (a very embarrassing scene), she protests that this was no part of the bargain.

I can't imagine what she supposed the bargain was about, if it didn't require her to be either wife or servant.

Terrorism was the man's simple solution; but those who looked, in the last Act, for a tamed and adoring shrew were to be disappointed. Brute force had only produced a patient obedience; and it was not till a damaged crop had brought them to the edge of ruin that she consented to become his ministering angel. But by that time we knew too well her distaste for Manitoban methods to believe in the sincerity of this sudden conversion.

Altogether, after what Mr.Maughamhas done to my illusions, I have given up any thought of going to God's Own Country in search of a larger existence.

The acting was perhaps better than the play, though the play was good up to a point. The Second Act, with its fierce jealousy and wrangling and the futile efforts of the farmer (admirably played by Mr.C. V. France) to intervene between wife and sister, was excellent. For the rest, it was the personality of Mr.Godfrey Tearle, as the savage mate of the shrew, that dominated the scene. There is no better rough diamond (and he was really very rough) in the whole stock of stage-jewellery. MissIrene Vanbrugh, though no actress could have done more with her part, had less chance than usual of showing her particular gift offinesse; andNorah'scharacter was too inconsistent to command our sympathy. Not that we necessarily gave it to the man. Indeed it was a flaw in the play that our sympathies were never thoroughly engaged by either party. We were, of course, prepared to range ourselves on the winning side, but there was no victory. The issue was decided byforce majeurein the shape of a wretched weed that destroyed the crop.

The situations, though of a rather strenuous order, gave occasion from time to time for humorous relief. At first, when the English servant in the opening Act rudely interposed with a facetious comment on the sincerity of the grief of certain mourners, I feared lest the humour was going to be distributed loosely without regard to the propriety of its mouthpiece. But the rest was reasonable enough; and my only complaint about the best repartee ("There's no place like home." "Some people are glad there isn't") has to do with its antiquity rather than with its appropriateness.

I have never been to Manitoba (and, after seeingThe Land of Promise, I am definitely resolved, as I said, never to go), so I cannot say whether Mr.Maugham'sinteriors corresponded to the facts; but their freedom from any signs of picturesqueness gave them an air of being the right thing. Life in these parts no doubt revolves largely round the simple joys of the stomach. Seldom have I seen so much eating on the stage. We began at Tunbridge Wells with a funeral tea (though perhaps I ought to pass this over as taking place outside the Dominion); then as soon as we get to Dyer (Manitoba) we had a mid-day dinner, with washing-up; and then at Prentice (Manitoba) we were regaled with a supper of black tea and syrup.

I am confident that there is a great opening for drama dealing solely with Life Between Meals. To see people smoking on the stage is sufficiently irritating; but, when you are assisting at a First Night after a sketchy repast from the grill, all this feeding on the stage, however frugal the menu, makes for exasperation.

Finally I must compliment Mr.Maughamon his ironical title. For his play, too, is a thing "of promise" rather than achievement, if it is to be judged by the test of the Last Act. Still, if a play only promises well enough and long enough—as this play did—that is an achievement in itself.

O. S.

Thetortoiseshell catShe sits on the mat,As gay as a sunflower she;In orange and black you see her blink,And her waistcoat's white, and her nose is pink,And her eyes are green of the sea.But all is vanity, all the way;Twilight's coming and close of day,And every cat in the twilight's grey,Every possible cat.The tortoiseshell catShe is smooth and fat,And we call her Josephine,Because she weareth upon her backThis coat of colours, this raven black,This red of the tangerine.But all is vanity, all the way;Twilight follows the brightest day,And every cat in the twilight's grey,Every possible cat.

Thetortoiseshell cat

She sits on the mat,

As gay as a sunflower she;

In orange and black you see her blink,

And her waistcoat's white, and her nose is pink,

And her eyes are green of the sea.

But all is vanity, all the way;

Twilight's coming and close of day,

And every cat in the twilight's grey,

Every possible cat.

The tortoiseshell catShe is smooth and fat,And we call her Josephine,Because she weareth upon her backThis coat of colours, this raven black,This red of the tangerine.But all is vanity, all the way;Twilight follows the brightest day,And every cat in the twilight's grey,Every possible cat.

The tortoiseshell cat

She is smooth and fat,

And we call her Josephine,

Because she weareth upon her back

This coat of colours, this raven black,

This red of the tangerine.

But all is vanity, all the way;

Twilight follows the brightest day,

And every cat in the twilight's grey,

Every possible cat.

"The Ball given by the Ministry of Communications last night in the new Waichiaopu Building was a great success in every way. Although only 1,500 invitations were sent out, more than that number of guests attended the Ball."—Peking Daily News.

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