r.
Turning round to investigate the cause of the phenomenon he beheld
a gentle milch privily sucking it up behind, his back. There was a
strong flavour of Coal Tar soap in the _cafe au lait_ to-day.

This morning at dawn I was aroused by a cold foot pawing at my face.
Blinking awake, I observed Albert Edward in rosy pyjamas capering
beside my bed. "Show a leg, quick," he whispered. "Rouse out, and
Uncle will show boysey pretty picture."

Brushing aside the coverlet of fowl I followed him tip-toe across the
dewy mead to the tarpaulin which he and MacTavish call "home."

Albert Edward lifted a flap and signed me to peep within. It was, as
he had promised, a pretty picture.

At the foot of our MacTavish's mattress, under a spare blanket lifted
from that warrior in his sleep, lay a large pink pig. Both were
occupied in peaceful and stertorous repose.

"Heads of Angels, by Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS," breathed Albert Edward in
my ear.

PATLANDER.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Old Lady from the Country_. "I'VE ASKED FOUR PORTERS,
AND THEY ALL TELL ME DIFFERENT."

_Porter_. "WHAT CAN YOU EXPECT, MISSUS, IF YER ASKS FOUR DIFFERENT
PORTERS?"]

* * * * *

COMMERCIAL CANDOUR.

"1913 Touring Ford, in splendid condition, fitted with new coils,
parafin vaporiser; has been little use."--_Irish Times_.

* * * * *

THE TWO LETTERS.

I had as usual two letters to write. There are always two and often
twenty, but this morning there were two only. One was to my old
friend, A., who had just gone into bankruptcy; the other was to my
young friend, B., whose sporting efforts in France have won him very
rapid promotion. He was just bringing his new captain's stars to
England on a few days' leave.

A. is a somewhat austere and melancholy man; B. is just as different
as you can imagine.

I wrote thus. First to A.:--

"MY DEAR MAN,--I am sorry to hear your bad news. The times are
sufficiently depressing without such a blow as this having to fall
on you. I am certain that you don't deserve such treatment, and
you have all my sympathy. As for the disgrace--there is none. You
are simply a victim of the War. If there is anything I can do to
cheer you up, let me know.

"I am, yours, etc.,--."

To B. I wrote thus:--

"DEAR OLD TOP,--This is the best news I have heard for a long
time. I always knew