f wolves and bears
Or when you pass the cupboard-place beneath the attic stairs;
You may not always like it when thunder makes a noise
That seems so much, much bigger than little girls and boys;
You may feel rather lonely when you waken in the night,
But if the fairies love you--_it's all right_.

R.F.

* * * * *

"I trust it may be sufficient to convince readers that Mr.
Chesterton is CONTINUED AT FOOT OF NEXT COLUMN."

_Sunday Paper._

At last the ever-recurring problem of where to put the rest of Mr.
CHESTERTON has been solved.

* * * * *

THE LITTLE MOA

(_and how much it is_).

I have been reading a lot about Polynesia lately, and the conclusion has
been forced upon me that dining out in that neighbourhood might be
rather confusing to a stranger.

Imagine yourself at one of these Antipodean functions. Your host is
seated at the head of the table with a large fowl before him. Looking
pleasantly in your direction he says:--

"Will you have a little moa?"

Not being well up in the subject of exotic fauna you will be tempted to
make one of the following replies:--

(1) (With _Alice in Wonderland_ in your mind) "How can I possibly have
more when I haven't had anything at all yet?"

(2) "Yes, please, a lot more, or just a little more," as capacity and
appetite dictate.

(3) "No, thank you."

The objection to reply No. 1 is that it may cause unpleasantness, or
your host may retort, "I didn't ask you if you would have a little more
moa," and thus increase your embarrassment.

No. 2 is a more suitable rejoinder, but probably No. 3 is the safest
reply, as some of these big birds require a lot of mastication.

In the event of your firing off No. 3, your host glances towards the
hostess and says--

"Oo, then" (pronounced "oh-oh").

To your startled senses comes the immediate suggestion, "Is the giver of
the feast demented, or is he merely rude?"

Just as you are meditating an excuse for leaving the table and the
house, your hostess saves the situation by saying sweetly, "Do let me
give you a little oo," playfully tapping with a carvingknife the
breastbone of a winged creature recumbent on a dish in front of her.

It gradually dawns upon you that you are among strange birds quite
outside the pale of the English Game Laws, and that you will have to
take a sporting chance.

While you are still in the act of waver