el Stacey and Mrs. Cottingham each dug up a Roman bronze
coin (both denarii, I fancy) from the mound. This of course acted as
a great stimulant, and we had a bumper meeting on Friday. Stacey, I
understand, intends to read a paper, at the first indoor meeting of
the society, on the Roman occupation of Filby-in-the-Wold. The mound
is now levelled, and the wall foundations have all been dug up and
carted away; but the latter yielded nothing of interest.

Hoping that the Conference is going as you would wish,

I am,

Yours sincerely,

ARCHIBALD C. KNOTT.

P.S.--Couldn't you touch up the Bishop on the subject of the Convent
tube?

DEAR VICAR,--We have had an archaeological strike. The mound is
levelled, the wall foundations have disappeared, and so have the
diggers. I am afraid the Society are now awaiting your return to
give them a lead. My grounds, alas, have produced nothing beyond the
two denarii.

Yours sincerely,

ARCHIBALD C. KNOTT.

_[Extract.]_

DEAR BOY,--Your mother and I are delighted that you will be demobbed
in about a week from now.... By the way you will be glad to hear
that we can start making that second tennis-court in the paddock as
soon as you get back. I have had the remains of what was known as
Knott's Folly in your great-grandfather's day removed, at a total
cost of two denarii (which had been lying in a drawer in my
dressing-room for years); not so bad, considering the present cost
of labour. But of this more anon.

Your affectionate

FATHER.

* * * * *

A CRICKET BARGAIN.

_(Before the match.)_

We meet as foes, my James, this summer weather,
But sterner summers saw us twain in league;
Shoulder to shoulder have we stood together
On Q.M.S. fatigue.

So, when (ninth wicket down) to-day I enter
Upon my tenure of the crease and gaze
Nervously at you, having taken centre,
Remember bygone days.

Abate your skill, so shall my nerves grow firmer,
Till driving seems the easiest of jobs,
And passers-by shall pause and haply murmur,
"Golly, can that be HOBBS?"

Do this for me, and you'll discover later
How fame awaits the generous and good;
A few long hops shall win a glory greater
Than ever break-back could.

If for a ball or two you let me smite you,