THE FUTURE OF BRITISH BOXING.

"Because I haven't killed any game."

"But you have your gun in your hand at this moment."

"That is so. This is my gun. But where, I ask you, is my dead game? The truth is, my dear fellow," he went on, dropping his voice to a more confidential level, "though it's pretty humiliating to have to admit it and all that, especially before the beatersâ€”the truth is that I haven't hit a blamed thing to-day. Rotten, isn't it?"

Walter isn't much of a shot and there weren't many birds anyway, and he hadn't been very lucky in his standsâ€”and when one came to think it over one couldn't just exactlyrememberanything at all having fallen to his gun.

"I call all these fellows to witness," said Walter most impressively, "that I have killed no game. If it pleases me to discharge my gun, at short intervals, for the sake of the bangâ€”"

"You require a gun licence," said the Officer.

"That is not the point. I may or may not have a gun licence, but our present controversy relates to a certificate to kill game. Do not let us confuse the issue."

It now appeared, however, that the Officer had been waiting behind the dyke rather longer than we knew. "I myself," he said firmly, "saw you bring down a cock pheasant at the beginning of the last beat."

Walter consulted the paper in his hand. "I observe," he said, "that this licence (or certificate) relates to killing game. There is nothing said of bringing it down. I may, as you say, have induced a cock pheasant to descend. I certainly didn't kill him. As a matter of fact he was lightly touched on the wing, and he ran like a hare."

"He's in that patch of bracken there," said the Officer. "If you will send a keeper and a dog with meâ€”"

"No, I can't do that," said Walter, "unless you can show me a written authority empowering you, in the KING's name, to borrow keepers and dogs."

It was then that the fun began. The Officer went off like a shot up the hillside, started the old cock, chased him up the ditch and through the hedge, and finally, to everyone's surprise and delight, collared him in a corner of the dyke. There were loud cheers from the enthusiastic crowd, but they were cut short by a sharp warning from Walter.

"Be careful how you handle that bird, Sir!" he cried. "If anything happens to him I shall hold you responsible. I have no reason to believe that you hold a licence (or certificate) to kill game. If he suffers a mortal injury I shall report you."

The Officer began to look rather bewildered and the old cock flapped his wings.

"I'll thank you for that bird," said Walter firmly, and he took it and tucked it comfortably under his arm.

"What are you going to do with it?" asked the Officer.

"I am going to nurse it back to health and strength," said Walter. "It only requires a little close attention. I shall be happy if you will call in about a week's time to enquire. Good afternoon. I am very pleased to have met you." And Walter held out his hand.

Well, that is where the matter rests. If Walter can keep the bird alive the case against him falls to the ground. If not, I suppose it means a three-pound licence and a ten-pound fine. He took him straight back to the Home Farm and secured for him dry and airy quarters in the poultry run, and did not leave him till he had seen to his comfort in every way and given minute directions as to his treatment....

I am afraid the old cock passed a rather restless night, but he was able to take part of a warm mash, with two drops of laudanum in it, at an early hour this morning. At this moment I hear Walter getting out his motor-bicycle. I fancy he is going for the vet.

Says Mr. CLEMENT SHORTER:â€”

"There is a journal in London which has the impertinence to call itselfThe Nation, but ... it does not represent the merest fraction of our countrymen."

Mr. SHORTER's own paper is called, more modestly,The Sphere.

THE FUTURE OF BRITISH BOXING.Rough(to policeman who has knocked him down). "WELL, IT'S WORF IT. TO ME BELONGS THE CREDIT OF 'AVIN' DISCOVERED A BLOOMIN' WHITE 'OPE."

Prussian officers inspecting the Mona Lisa.GETTING USED TO THE "SMILING EXPRESSION."OUR SUGGESTION FOR A SYSTEM OF ADVANCED PHYSICAL TRAINING FOR PRUSSIAN OFFICERS BEFORE TAKING UP COMMANDS IN THE ALSATIAN DISTRICT, WHERE THE POPULACE IS SAID TO BE ADDICTED TO HUMOUR.

I was in the train because I had to go to Birmingham; I was in the dining car because I had to dine. With all respect to the Company I cannot pretend that I regarded myself as doing anything remarkable or distinguished. The little man opposite me, however, felt differently. I have since been told that they of Birmingham are very proud of their non-stop train service by both routes.

"This, Sir," said the stranger, as I lowered my paper to help myself to a proffered rollâ€”"this is one of the Two-Hour trains."

"You don't say," said I politely but not encouragingly.

"Two hours," he repeated impressively.

"Indeed? Two whole hours and not a moment less?" and I returned to my paper pending the soup's arrival.

"Is it not wonderful," he resumed when I was at his mercy again, "to be travelling at sixty miles an hour and eating soup at the same time?"

"Some people eat soup," said I, "and some drink it. For myself, I give it a miss;" and I returned to the news.

With the fish: "I came up by the breakfast train this morning," said he, "and I now return by the dining train." He meant by this to give credit to the Company rather than to himself, but even so it seemed to fall short of the complete ideal. There was something wanting. It was luncheon, of course.

"They run luncheon cars too," said he.

"Then there seems to be no reason why you should ever leave the train at all," I remarked, seeking refuge again in my paper. In spite, however, of my coldness, he continued to assail me with similar facts every time I emerged. Finally he took a sheet of slightly soiled paper and pencilled on it a schedule of our movements. It ran:â€”

"To give this the very careful consideration it deserves," said I, "I must be left absolutely to myself."

Later on, feeling that I had perhaps been rude, I offered the man a cigar by way of compensation. He accepted it as a mark of esteem and burst forth into more conversation. By now a little fed up with trains himself he suggested, for the sake of something new to say, that he had met me before somewhere. At first I had some idea of asking for my cigar to be returned, but instead I gave in to his persistence. More, I joined in the conversation with an energy which surprised him.

"Now I come to think of it wehaveseen each other before; but where?" I said.

He thought promiscuously, disconnectedly and aloud. I could accept none of his suggestions because all referred to commercial rooms in provincial hotels, places to which I have not theentrÃ©e. "But I know now," I declared brightly; "it was at a place just this side of London that I saw you first."

Algeria.THE SAND CAMPAIGN.SCENEâ€”Algeria, on the border of the desert.THE ARAB AND THE CHANCELLORWERE WALKING HAND-IN-HAND;THE LATTER WEPT A LOT TO SEESUCH QUANTITIES OF SAND;"WHY ARE YOU HOLDING UP," HE SAID,"THIS VERY FERTILE LAND?"

THE ARAB AND THE CHANCELLORWERE WALKING HAND-IN-HAND;THE LATTER WEPT A LOT TO SEESUCH QUANTITIES OF SAND;"WHY ARE YOU HOLDING UP," HE SAID,"THIS VERY FERTILE LAND?"

THE ARAB AND THE CHANCELLOR

WERE WALKING HAND-IN-HAND;

THE LATTER WEPT A LOT TO SEE

SUCH QUANTITIES OF SAND;

"WHY ARE YOU HOLDING UP," HE SAID,

"THIS VERY FERTILE LAND?"

"First?" he asked.

"Oh yes," said I. "I have seen you more than once. Surely you haven't forgotten that time at Watford?"

He felt that I had the advantage of him. "When was that?" he asked.

"Not very long after the first time; and the next occasion I remember seeing you was at a place calledâ€”calledâ€”something beginning with a B."

He was quite unable to cope with the situation.

"And the next time," I continued, "I happened to be passing through that town where the school isâ€”you know, Rugby. I distinctly recollect noticing then that you hadn't changed in the least since I last saw you."

He couldn't decide whether to be more flattered at my remembering or more annoyed at his own forgetting.

"Come, come," I exclaimed, "you surely cannot have forgotten that little chat we had at Coventry?"

"Coventry?" he asked. "But how long ago was that?"

"Quite recently," I asserted.

"But I haven't set foot in Coventry for years," said he.

"Nor have I, ever," said I.

I could understand his feelings thoroughly. It might be that I was a liar; it might be that I was a lunatic. In either case he did not wish to converse further with me. Happily, I had two newspapers available.

As the speed of our train, in which of old he had taken such a pride, began to slacken: "And I shouldn't be surprised," I said from behind my paper, "if you and I saw each other again quite soon. The world is a small place and these things soon develop into a habit."

He made no answer from behind his paper.

"If you ask me when and where" (as in fact he didn't), "I should say it is just as likely as not to happen at Birmingham at about 8.55 P.M.," I estimated, relying upon his own schedule.

Kissed by his sister.Harold(who has just been kissed by his sister). "I SAY, I WONDER WHAT SHE'S UP TO?"Friend. "SIGN OF AFFECTION, ISN'T IT?"Harold. "AFFECTION, YOU GOAT! SHE NEVER DOES THAT TILL THE LAST DAY OF THE HOLS, AND THERE'S A WEEK TO GO YET."

Harold(who has just been kissed by his sister). "I SAY, I WONDER WHAT SHE'S UP TO?"

Friend. "SIGN OF AFFECTION, ISN'T IT?"

Harold. "AFFECTION, YOU GOAT! SHE NEVER DOES THAT TILL THE LAST DAY OF THE HOLS, AND THERE'S A WEEK TO GO YET."

"The play was preceded by 'The Â£12 Hook,' another Barrie comedy of more recent date."â€”Sydney Morning Herald.

We should prefer to call it "The Â£12 Eye."

"LABOUR IN SOUTH AFRICA.BLACK OUTLOOK."Morning Post.

"LABOUR IN SOUTH AFRICA.BLACK OUTLOOK."

"LABOUR IN SOUTH AFRICA.

BLACK OUTLOOK."

Morning Post.

Let us hear both sides. What is the White Outlook?

"The grievance of the men is in regard to the rate of pay. They are paid 5Â½d. per hair."â€”Glasgow News.

And then when they are old and bald they have to starve.

"TANGO RAPIDLY DYING.DANCE UPHELD BY MR. MAX PEMBERTON."Daily Chronicle.

"TANGO RAPIDLY DYING.

DANCE UPHELD BY MR. MAX PEMBERTON."

Daily Chronicle.

This is the sort of thing that the Revue King has to put up with. Truly the lot of royalty is not an enviable one.

From an advertisement of Tango matinÃ©es inThe Lyceum:â€”

Gourmet(planking down his seven-and-six). "Tea and tautenils, please."

Seen on a Liverpool hoarding:â€”

"Quo Vadis: Whither goest thou in eight reels?"Answer. "Anywhere in reason, but not home."

"Quo Vadis: Whither goest thou in eight reels?"

Answer. "Anywhere in reason, but not home."

Weary of the struggle and the squalorsWhich beset the politician's lifeâ€”Work that for a modicum of dollarsBrings a whole infinity of strifeâ€”Three of England's most illustrious croniesStarted on a winter holiday,With no thought of MURRAY or Marconisâ€”GEORGE and HENRY and the great TAY PAY.Never since Ã†NEAS and his raidersStayed with DIDO in the days of yoreDid such irresistible invadersLand upon the Carthaginian shore.GEORGE, of course, the largest crowds attended,But I'm told the kind Algerians sayThat Ã†NEAS wasn't half so splendidOr so pious as the good TAY PAY.Noble sheikhs and black and bearded BashasBowed, whene'er they met them, to the ground;Festas and fantasias and tamashasFollowed in a never-ending round.GEORGE no more on his detractors brooded;HENRY simply sang the livelong day;While unmixed benevolence exudedFrom the loving heart of kind TAY PAY.Side by side they read the works of HICHENS;Hand in hand they sampled the bazaars;Ate the sweetmeats cooked in native kitchens;Flew about in sumptuous motor-cars;Golfed where once great HANNIBAL was scheming;Joked where luckless DIDO once held sway;For the finest jokes were always streamingFrom the lips of comical TAY PAY.Other days they spent in caracoling,Mounted each upon a mettled barb,Or along the streets serenely strollingClad in semi-oriental garb;HENRY with a cummerbund suburban;GEORGE disguised to look like ENVER BEY;While a kilt surmounted by a turbanVeiled the massive contours of TAY PAY.Daily they partook of ripe and juicyFruit, and Mocha coffee and kibobs;Daily they conversed with EL SENOUSSIAnd a lot of other native nobs;HENRY practised Algerine fandangos;GEORGE upon the tom-tom learned to play;And a dervish taught ten Arab tangosTo the light fantastical TAY PAY.Whither will they wander next, I wonder?Not, I hope and pray, within the reachOf the tribes who live on loot and plunder,Fanatics who practise what they preach.Fancy if these horrible disturbers,Swooping on our countrymen astray,Touaregs and Bedouins and Berbers,Carried off the succulent TAY PAY!Hardly had this agonizing presageTaken shape within my tortured brain,When good REUTER flashed the welcome message,"Chancellor Returns," across the main.Neptune, be thy waters calm, not choppy,As they speed them on their homeward way,GEORGE and HENRY and, bowed down with "copy,"Our unique arch-eulogist, TAY PAY.

Weary of the struggle and the squalors

Which beset the politician's lifeâ€”

Work that for a modicum of dollars

Brings a whole infinity of strifeâ€”

Three of England's most illustrious cronies

Started on a winter holiday,

With no thought of MURRAY or Marconisâ€”

GEORGE and HENRY and the great TAY PAY.

Never since Ã†NEAS and his raidersStayed with DIDO in the days of yoreDid such irresistible invadersLand upon the Carthaginian shore.GEORGE, of course, the largest crowds attended,But I'm told the kind Algerians sayThat Ã†NEAS wasn't half so splendidOr so pious as the good TAY PAY.

Never since Ã†NEAS and his raiders

Stayed with DIDO in the days of yore

Did such irresistible invaders

Land upon the Carthaginian shore.

GEORGE, of course, the largest crowds attended,

But I'm told the kind Algerians say

That Ã†NEAS wasn't half so splendid

Or so pious as the good TAY PAY.

Noble sheikhs and black and bearded BashasBowed, whene'er they met them, to the ground;Festas and fantasias and tamashasFollowed in a never-ending round.GEORGE no more on his detractors brooded;HENRY simply sang the livelong day;While unmixed benevolence exudedFrom the loving heart of kind TAY PAY.

Noble sheikhs and black and bearded Bashas

Bowed, whene'er they met them, to the ground;

Festas and fantasias and tamashas

Followed in a never-ending round.

GEORGE no more on his detractors brooded;

HENRY simply sang the livelong day;

While unmixed benevolence exuded

From the loving heart of kind TAY PAY.

Side by side they read the works of HICHENS;Hand in hand they sampled the bazaars;Ate the sweetmeats cooked in native kitchens;Flew about in sumptuous motor-cars;Golfed where once great HANNIBAL was scheming;Joked where luckless DIDO once held sway;For the finest jokes were always streamingFrom the lips of comical TAY PAY.

Side by side they read the works of HICHENS;

Hand in hand they sampled the bazaars;

Ate the sweetmeats cooked in native kitchens;

Flew about in sumptuous motor-cars;

Golfed where once great HANNIBAL was scheming;

Joked where luckless DIDO once held sway;

For the finest jokes were always streaming

From the lips of comical TAY PAY.

Other days they spent in caracoling,Mounted each upon a mettled barb,Or along the streets serenely strollingClad in semi-oriental garb;HENRY with a cummerbund suburban;GEORGE disguised to look like ENVER BEY;While a kilt surmounted by a turbanVeiled the massive contours of TAY PAY.

Other days they spent in caracoling,

Mounted each upon a mettled barb,

Or along the streets serenely strolling

Clad in semi-oriental garb;

HENRY with a cummerbund suburban;

GEORGE disguised to look like ENVER BEY;

While a kilt surmounted by a turban

Veiled the massive contours of TAY PAY.

Daily they partook of ripe and juicyFruit, and Mocha coffee and kibobs;Daily they conversed with EL SENOUSSIAnd a lot of other native nobs;HENRY practised Algerine fandangos;GEORGE upon the tom-tom learned to play;And a dervish taught ten Arab tangosTo the light fantastical TAY PAY.

Daily they partook of ripe and juicy

Fruit, and Mocha coffee and kibobs;

Daily they conversed with EL SENOUSSI

And a lot of other native nobs;

HENRY practised Algerine fandangos;

GEORGE upon the tom-tom learned to play;

And a dervish taught ten Arab tangos

To the light fantastical TAY PAY.

Whither will they wander next, I wonder?Not, I hope and pray, within the reachOf the tribes who live on loot and plunder,Fanatics who practise what they preach.Fancy if these horrible disturbers,Swooping on our countrymen astray,Touaregs and Bedouins and Berbers,Carried off the succulent TAY PAY!

Whither will they wander next, I wonder?

Not, I hope and pray, within the reach

Of the tribes who live on loot and plunder,

Fanatics who practise what they preach.

Fancy if these horrible disturbers,

Swooping on our countrymen astray,

Touaregs and Bedouins and Berbers,

Carried off the succulent TAY PAY!

Hardly had this agonizing presageTaken shape within my tortured brain,When good REUTER flashed the welcome message,"Chancellor Returns," across the main.Neptune, be thy waters calm, not choppy,As they speed them on their homeward way,GEORGE and HENRY and, bowed down with "copy,"Our unique arch-eulogist, TAY PAY.

Hardly had this agonizing presage

Taken shape within my tortured brain,

When good REUTER flashed the welcome message,

"Chancellor Returns," across the main.

Neptune, be thy waters calm, not choppy,

As they speed them on their homeward way,

GEORGE and HENRY and, bowed down with "copy,"

Our unique arch-eulogist, TAY PAY.

Personally I think too much respect is paid to age. There is nothing clever in being oldâ€”nothing at all. On the other hand, youth has a charm of its own. Besides, twenty-two is not young; you wouldn't think me so if you really knew me. The doubt arises, I suppose, from a certain innate light-heartedness. It is really rather pathetic.

Daphne chooses to see humour in the situation, which is very absurd of her, and, as I point out, merely reflects on herself. Surely she doesn't wish to admit that it is foolish to love her.

And that, to make a clean breast of it, is exactly what I do, and do madly.

I follow her about, reverently watching her every movement, hanging on her every wordâ€”no light task. And my reward? A scant unceremonious "Hallo!" when we meet; a scanter "Night" or "Morning," according to the circumstances, when we part. A brave smile from me and she is gone, an unwitting spectator of a real tragedy.

Up to a few days ago I was content to bear with my lot, but last week I rebelled. It was at a dance, after supper. Daphne had certainly shown a sort of affection for me, motherly rather than otherwise, I think; nevertheless an affection. But then, and not for the first time, I had seen her flirting with another.

I decided to lose my temper. I went into the smoke-room and deliberated very close to the fire. In five minutes I left the room heated.

I found Daphne at once.

"Our dance," I said. "We will sit out."

My manner must have been rather terrifying. At any rate we sat out.

"Daphne," I began, "I am in a mood that brooks no trifling. For weeks I have loved you. You spurn me."

"Oh, Billy, do be sensible," Daphne murmured.

I moderated my tone. "Well, look here," I said, "why are you so cold to me and yet flirt with my cousin? I saw you putting his tie straight and patting his arm just now; and you won't let me even hold your hand. It's pretty hard, Daphne."

She laughed. "My dear Billyâ€”"

"Many thanks for yours of yesterday. I am having a very good time and it is really kind of me to write."

"If you won't be sensibleâ€”"

"I am. It's just because I'm so serious that I jest. All the wittiest men are broken-hearted. Go on."

"Well, my dear Billy, you mustn't be foolish. I'm very fond of you, but you're so ridiculously young."

"You haven't a revolver about you?" I enquired.

Daphne sighed. "Billy, you're quite hopeless. Do let me try to explain. You see, I can'tâ€”wellâ€”flirt with you, because I don't really flirt, of course, and besides your cousin's differentâ€”he's married."

I got up quickly. "Good-bye," I said. "You must excuse my leaving you."

Daphne looked surprised. "Where are you going?" she enquired.

"To get married." I walked away with my head in the air.

A week later I wrote Daphne a letter. It ran as follows:â€”

"MY DEAR DAPHNE,â€”I am going to get married. Tinais nineteen, the same as you, and is in the chorus of a musical comedy. She has real jet black hair, so I am quite lucky. I hope you are fonder of me already.

Yours devotedly, BILLY."

In reply, and by return of post, I received an invitation to tea at Daphne's. Daphne, looking beautiful, was awaiting me.

"How d'you do?" I said gravely.

"Billy," Daphne began, "will you be really serious with me?"

I immediately assumed a business manner and coughed.

"Well?" I said.

The word was sharp and incisive, a regular lawyer's question.

"Of course, you're joking about this chorus girl?"

"Joking! Daphne, you know I'd do anything for you."

Daphne smiled. "But, Billy, I shan't like you any better if you marry her."

I bit a piece of cake coldly. "I don't understand you, Daphne," I said. "When I ask you to show me a little affection, only just what you show others, you tell me I'm young and married men are different. I arrange to be different at considerable personal sacrifice, and you tell me you won't like me any better." I swallowed convulsively.

"But, Billyâ€”dearâ€”you're not actually engaged?"

"I'm not so sure," I replied. "These girls are wonderfully sharp; and then, of course, I'm so young." (A good touch.)

There was a silence.

"I shall hate you if you marry a chorus girl," said Daphne.

"Then why did you tell me married men were different?"

"Because most of them are." Daphne smiled slowly. "I think I might like you better if you were married to some really nice girl."

I laughed bitterly. "To you, for instance?"

"Yes, to me," said Daphne very sweetly.

Mr. Asquith and Mr. Bonar Law.IN VIEW OF THE EXAGGERATED AND MISLEADING REPORTS OF WHAT OCCURS AT THE CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN MR. ASQUITH AND MR. BONAR LAW ON THE ULSTER QUESTION WE VENTURE TO THINK THAT A LITTLE MAKE-UP AND CAREFUL CHOICE OF RENDEZVOUS WOULD ENABLE THE LEADERS TO HAVE MANY A LONG CHAT ON THE SUBJECT WITHOUT ANYONE BEING AWARE OF THEIR HAVING MET.

Kitchen scene.SPREAD OF THE SERVANT-GIRL GRADUATE IDEA.(Interior of a super-kitchen.)Mistress. "WOULD YOU MIND LEAVING YOUR SOPHOCLES FOR A MOMENT, MARY, AND RUNNING TO THE POST?"

8th December, 1913.

Mr. and Mrs. Melbrook request the pleasure of Mr. Hugh Melbrook's company at the marriage of their daughter Muriel Irene with Mr. Adolphus Smith, at St. Peter's, Hashton, on Wednesday, December 31st, 1913, at 1.30 o'clock, and afterwards atWestlands, Hashton.

R.S.V.P.

9th December, 1913.

Mr. Hugh Melbrook thanks Mr. and Mrs. Melbrook for the opportunity of being present at the wedding of their daughter Muriel Irene, but much regrets that, owing to great pressure of work, he cannot be there. He desires that Mr. and Mrs. Melbrook should not feel constrained to alter their present arrangements on that account.

26th December, 1913.

MESSRS. HALL, MARK & Co., Silversmiths.

SIRS,â€”Kindly despatch at once to the address given below a seasonable wedding gift, costing no more than the amount of the enclosed postal order. I send my card for inclusion. Whatever change there may be please return it to me, and oblige

Yours faithfully,

H. MELBROOK.

27th December, 1913.

H. MELBROOK, ESQ.

DEAR SIR,â€”We are in receipt of your esteemed favour of yesterday's date and beg to advise you that we have this day forwarded to the address you gave a handsome cut-glass anchovy dish with a finely-chased silver lid and tray. We enclose the receipted bill for the dish, which stands in our list at exactly the amount remitted by you.

We are, dear Sir,

Yours faithfully,

HALL, MARK & Co.

29th December, 1913.

MY DEAR HUGH.â€”Thank youvery, verymuch for the sweet little butterdish. It's ripping. Do try to get down, Hugh, there's a good boy! If you can find time to choose me such a nice presentâ€”I know what you are, it must have taken you hoursâ€”surely you could take the day off for once. Say yes.

In tremendous haste, and thanking you again and again,

Your affectionate cousin,

MURIEL.

P.S.â€”I've just heard that Mr. Parsley, who is to marry us, is very strict aboutobedientweddings, and I promised Geraldine I wouldn't "obey" if she didn't. Now it's my turn. Tell me something to do.

30th December,1913.

MY GOOD MURIEL,â€”That's a caviare dish! Caviare dishes, I understood, were all the rage just now, and here am I slaving away to be in the fashion, and you calmly write back and say, "Thank you very much for the buttâ€”" My good Muriel!

I really wanted to send you something quite different, something equally novel but more seasonable; no less, in fact, than a nose-muff or nose-warmer. It is a little idea of my own, the Melbrook "Rhinotherm." Briefly, the mechanism consists of pieces of heated charcoal, potato or what-not, encased in some non-conducting material, the whole being then unostentatiously affixed to the frigid end of the nose. Stupidly, I forgot to take a plaster cast of your nose. You'll forgive me, won't you?

And now about coming down on the happy day. I feel very hurt about it. You know perfectly well that I wanted you to be married on a Saturday, but you wouldn't. It isn't as though you get married every day, and I do think you might have considered me a little more. But, even if I did come, even if by working all night Monday and Tuesday I could scrape together a few hours of freedom, I know what it would be. I should never be allowed in the vestry afterwards, while all the fun was going on. And yet you have the effrontery to sit there and ask my help in evading your, responsibilities as a married woman. Still, if you promise to breathe not a word of this to any woman I may marry hereafter, here's a dead snip for you. Listen! When you come to the words "to love, cherish and to obey," you simply drop the second "to" (nobody will miss it) and run the "d" of the "and" into the "obey," and lo! we have a French word, to wit,dauber, meaning to cuff, drub or belabour. What say you to that, my bonny bride? I think that deserves an extra large slice of cake, to put under my pillow. And I say, Muriel, I do hope there won't be any of those rotten cassowary seeds in it. If there are, for pity's sake rake them out and give them to someone who likes them. And I'll have his share of the marzipan.

Your affectionate cousin,

HUGH.

... During the service an amusing incident occurred. It was noticed that the, bride, who is rumoured to have feminist leanings, betrayed some difficulty in pronouncing the vow of obedience. The Rev. Thos. Parsley considerately paused and helped her to repeat the words after him in a clear and audible manner. In an interview with our representative, Mr. Parsley smilingly explained that he was determined, in his parish at any rate, to discourage any possible evasion of the matrimonial vows. He considered that a great deal of post-nuptial unhappiness was attributable to the lamentable laxity of the clergy in joining young people in matrimony without requiring their future relations to be clearly defined at the outset. The young bride refused to make any comment, but seemed highly amused at the incident....

"Hashton Weekly Hash."

"A gem ring lost last summer by Franz Schroder while travelling in a steamer on the Danube, near Prague, was found inside a carp caught at Mayence by his nephew."â€”Manchester Evening News.

The fact that Mayence is not on the Danube need not bother you. Only last week our uncle lost a white elephant while travelling in a barge on the Regent's Park Canal, near Maida Vale, and it was found inside the hat-box of the Editor ofThe Manchester Evening Newsby FRANZ SCHRODER. Bless you, these things are always happening.

A fall at a hedge.Irate Cottager."Hi! YOU'RE BREAKIN' MY 'EDGE!"Mild Sportsman."OH, NO; YOUR HEDGE IS BREAKING MY FALL, AND IF YOU WILL KINDLY PUSH ME BACK AGAIN I SHALL TRY TO REJOIN MY HORSE."

Irate Cottager."Hi! YOU'RE BREAKIN' MY 'EDGE!"

Mild Sportsman."OH, NO; YOUR HEDGE IS BREAKING MY FALL, AND IF YOU WILL KINDLY PUSH ME BACK AGAIN I SHALL TRY TO REJOIN MY HORSE."

It is impossible to describe to you exactly how Herbert looked. But shame, defiance and unconcern were the principal ingredients in his expression as he stood on the kerb and stared across the road.

He started guiltily as I approached.

"Hallo, Herbert!" I began with my customarybonhomie.

"Hallo!" he said dismally.

"What are you doing here?" I asked sternly.

"Nothing," said Herbert. "Have you ever noticed what a fine building that post-office is?"

"No," I said; "neither have you. Herbert, you are concealing something from me. What have I done to deserve it? Have I not enjoyed your confidence these many years, and have you ever known me betray it? Is it marriage that has changed you thus? Is itâ€”"

"Shut up," said Herbert. "I'll tell you, if you stop talking."

I stopped talking.

"It's this way. My wife and I have had a little discussion. And I stated my belief that there was nothing in an ordinary way that a woman could do that a man couldn't. Whereupon she defied me to go out andâ€”erâ€”buy a bloater. As you see, I have gone out, andâ€”erâ€”"

"Yes," I said, "you have gone out. Splendid of you! And all that remains to be done is to buy a bloater. Why not? Yonder, if I mistake not, is the shop of a bloaterer."

"But a bloater!" said Herbert. "It isn't fair. If she'd said some salmon, or a lobster, or even a pound of sausages; or if she'd allowed me to 'phone for it. It's not as if I'd ever had any practice. It's not decent to start a beginner on a hand-bought bloater."

"Tush!" I said. "This is not manly. Remember, our sex is at stake. Come!"

I took him by the arm. He advanced under protest.

Four paces from the shop he stopped abruptly and laughedâ€”a horrible laugh.

"Do you know," he said, "I do believe I've come out without a cent on me."

"Idon't believe it for a moment," I said, "but as it happens I can lend you pounds and poundsâ€”almost enough for two bloaters."

Herbert reluctantly found some money in one of the seven pockets he had not felt in. Then we advanced once more.

This time there was no going back. Right into the body of the fishmonger's we strode and stood firmly opposite the salesman.

"Now," I whispered tensely.

But Herbert hesitated, and even as he wobbled the salesman began his suggestions.

"Yes, Sir? Lobsters or prawns, Sir? Some very good salmon this morningâ€”very fine fish indeed, Sir."

"Er, as a matter of fact," said Herbert, "we just wanted to know if you would be so kind as to direct us to the nearest post-office?â€”the one just across the road, you know," he added nervously.

"Herbert," I said in his private ear, "be a man."

Herbert pulled himself together. "Would you," he said to the salesman, "would you please let me look at some b-b-blobsters?"

Sunday.â€”Great news! The plan suggested by the Anglo-German Alliance Committee is at last to be carried out. There is to be an exchange of garrisons, that is to say, certain English towns are to be garrisoned by German regiments, while certain German towns are to have English garrisons. Our own town, though a small one, is to have the distinguished honour of being the first to give this mark of friendship to the world. All the arrangements have been made, and to-morrow the 901st Prussian regiment of infantry is to march in. It will be a great day for Dartlebury, and we shall all do our best, though the public notice has been short, to give our gallant visitors a warm and truly British reception.

Monday.â€”Our German friends have arrived. At 11 o'clock this morning it was announced that they were approaching, headed by their band. The Mayor, Alderman Farthingale, and the whole Corporation, including the three Labour members recently elected, immediately proceeded to the old city wall to meet them. They were accompanied by the municipal band in full uniform, playing "Die Wacht am Rhein," which they had been assiduously practising. Unfortunately this led to what might have been a somewhat painful contretemps. On meeting the municipal band the Prussian commander, Colonel von Brausebrum, halted his soldiers and in a loud voice declared that our men were playing out of tune. Perhaps this was true, but the offence was involuntary and in any case it was hardly serious enough to call for the arrest of the whole band. Arrested, however, they were, and it was a melancholy sight to see them marched off by a corporal's guard. Mr. Zundnadel, the chief of the band, is himself of German origin, and his feelings can be better imagined than described. The Mayor saved the situation by making an extremely cordial speech, in which he spoke of the English and the Germans as ancient brothers-in-arms. The Colonel in his reply said his mission was a glorious one, and everything would depend on the way we conducted ourselves. What can he have meant? The march was then resumed, but another halt was made in the High Street to remove the French flag which Mucklow, the linen-draper, had very tactlessly stuck up over his shop. He too was arrested, with wife and family, and was lodged in jail. Luckily no further incident disturbed the harmony of the proceedings.

Tuesday.â€”This morning Lieutenant von Schornstein, while walking in Brewer's Alley, trod on a piece of banana-skin and fell heavily on the pavement. As he rose he observed that two small boys were, so he alleged, laughing at him. He immediately ran after the two urchins, and was proceeding to put them to the sword when the Brewery men interfered and disarmed him. He pleaded that his uniform had been insulted and that it was necessary for him to punish them. "Ich muss sie durch den Leib rennen" were his words. The men, however, were not inclined to admit the force of this plea, especially as they understood no German, and they sent him back to barracks in a taxi-cab. The Mayor at once wired his apologies to the Colonel, and it is hoped that nothing further will be heard of the incident. I ought to add that the boys deny that they laughed, but the lieutenant is certain that they wore a smiling expression.

The "Friendship Banquet" was held this evening in the Town Hall, with the Mayor in the chair. No very great enthusiasm was shown, and when the Mayor, in proposing the health of our visitors, alluded to the friendly rivalry of the two nations in commerce and the arts of peace, the Colonel pulled him back into his seat and begged him not to proceed. "Maul halten," he said. The three Labour members of the Council were afterwards arrested for not having joined with sufficient heartiness in the singing of "Deutschland Ã¼ber Alles."

Wednesday.â€”A state of siege has been declared in Dartlebury, and we are all living under martial law. Lord Gruffen was arrested for having knocked up against a soldier. The magistrates, on leaving the police-court, were handcuffed and removed to barracks. A crisis is evidently approaching.

Thursday.â€”An insurrection started this morning. A huge crowd attacked the barracks and overpowered all resistance. Blood flowed like water, but in an hour all was over. There is a strong feeling that the experiment of the Alliance Committee was a rash one, though no doubt it was well meant. We live and learn.

They said, "He goes a-tumbling through the hollowAnd trackless empyrean like a clown,Head pointed to the earth where weaklings wallow,Feet up toward the stars; not such renownEven our lord himself, the bright Apollo,Gets in his gilded car. For one bob downYou shall behold the thing." "Right-o," I said,Clapping the old brown bay leaves on my head.So to the hangars. Time, about eleven,The air full chill, the ground a mess of muck,And long time gazed I on the wintry heavenAnd thought of many a deed of Saxon pluck;How DRAKE, for instance, good old DRAKE of Devon,Played bowls at Plymouth Hoe. Twelve-thirty struck.No one had vaulted through the air's abyss;DRAKE would have plunged tail up an hour ere this.Brief interval for lunch, and then a drizzleFell on the dreary field. Like some dead mothThe thing remained. Chagrin commenced to sizzle,And certain people cried, "A thillingth loth."Others, "Hey, Mister Airman, it's a swizzle!"Then a stern man came out, and with a clothLightly, as one well used to such a feat,Swaddled the brute's propeller and its seat.The skies grew darkling, and there went a rumour,"The thing is off; he will not fly to-day;"And forth we wandered, some in rare ill-humour,But not, oh, not the bard. Yet this I sayâ€”There are two kinds of courage: one's a boomerAvid of gold and glory; this is A,Crowned with a palm, and in her hands I seeSheaves of press cuttings. There is also B.Not venturesome, this last, to brave the billows,To beard the panther in his hidden lair,To probe the epiderms of armadillos,Nor execute wild cart-wheels in the air;But who shall say how much Britannia still owesTo B, the kind of courage that can bearDauntless to wait, whate'er the skies portend,(Having paid entrance) to the bitter end?The heavenly hero in his suit of leatherSoars through Olympus with the world beneathSometimes, and sometimes, owing to the weather,Scratches his fixtures in the tempest's teeth.Shall the high gods, who gaze on both together,Count him the nobler, or confer their wreathOn the brave bull-dog bard, who risks his thewsStanding about all day in thin-soled shoes?EVOE.

They said, "He goes a-tumbling through the hollow

And trackless empyrean like a clown,

Head pointed to the earth where weaklings wallow,

Feet up toward the stars; not such renown

Even our lord himself, the bright Apollo,

Gets in his gilded car. For one bob down

You shall behold the thing." "Right-o," I said,

Clapping the old brown bay leaves on my head.

So to the hangars. Time, about eleven,The air full chill, the ground a mess of muck,And long time gazed I on the wintry heavenAnd thought of many a deed of Saxon pluck;How DRAKE, for instance, good old DRAKE of Devon,Played bowls at Plymouth Hoe. Twelve-thirty struck.No one had vaulted through the air's abyss;DRAKE would have plunged tail up an hour ere this.

So to the hangars. Time, about eleven,

The air full chill, the ground a mess of muck,

And long time gazed I on the wintry heaven

And thought of many a deed of Saxon pluck;

How DRAKE, for instance, good old DRAKE of Devon,

Played bowls at Plymouth Hoe. Twelve-thirty struck.

No one had vaulted through the air's abyss;

DRAKE would have plunged tail up an hour ere this.

Brief interval for lunch, and then a drizzleFell on the dreary field. Like some dead mothThe thing remained. Chagrin commenced to sizzle,And certain people cried, "A thillingth loth."Others, "Hey, Mister Airman, it's a swizzle!"Then a stern man came out, and with a clothLightly, as one well used to such a feat,Swaddled the brute's propeller and its seat.

Brief interval for lunch, and then a drizzle

Fell on the dreary field. Like some dead moth

The thing remained. Chagrin commenced to sizzle,

And certain people cried, "A thillingth loth."

Others, "Hey, Mister Airman, it's a swizzle!"

Then a stern man came out, and with a cloth

Lightly, as one well used to such a feat,

Swaddled the brute's propeller and its seat.

The skies grew darkling, and there went a rumour,"The thing is off; he will not fly to-day;"And forth we wandered, some in rare ill-humour,But not, oh, not the bard. Yet this I sayâ€”There are two kinds of courage: one's a boomerAvid of gold and glory; this is A,Crowned with a palm, and in her hands I seeSheaves of press cuttings. There is also B.

The skies grew darkling, and there went a rumour,

"The thing is off; he will not fly to-day;"

And forth we wandered, some in rare ill-humour,

But not, oh, not the bard. Yet this I sayâ€”

There are two kinds of courage: one's a boomer

Avid of gold and glory; this is A,

Crowned with a palm, and in her hands I see

Sheaves of press cuttings. There is also B.

Not venturesome, this last, to brave the billows,To beard the panther in his hidden lair,To probe the epiderms of armadillos,Nor execute wild cart-wheels in the air;But who shall say how much Britannia still owesTo B, the kind of courage that can bearDauntless to wait, whate'er the skies portend,(Having paid entrance) to the bitter end?

Not venturesome, this last, to brave the billows,

To beard the panther in his hidden lair,

To probe the epiderms of armadillos,

Nor execute wild cart-wheels in the air;

But who shall say how much Britannia still owes

To B, the kind of courage that can bear

Dauntless to wait, whate'er the skies portend,

(Having paid entrance) to the bitter end?

The heavenly hero in his suit of leatherSoars through Olympus with the world beneathSometimes, and sometimes, owing to the weather,Scratches his fixtures in the tempest's teeth.Shall the high gods, who gaze on both together,Count him the nobler, or confer their wreathOn the brave bull-dog bard, who risks his thewsStanding about all day in thin-soled shoes?

The heavenly hero in his suit of leather

Soars through Olympus with the world beneath

Sometimes, and sometimes, owing to the weather,

Scratches his fixtures in the tempest's teeth.

Shall the high gods, who gaze on both together,

Count him the nobler, or confer their wreath

On the brave bull-dog bard, who risks his thews

Standing about all day in thin-soled shoes?

EVOE.

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