the ideal male headdress.]

THE SMILLIE.--A Phrygian model, executed in red Russia leather.
Special features are the asbestos lining, the steam vents and the
water-jacket, which combine to minimise the natural heat of the head.
Embellished with an heraldic cock's-comb _gules_, it is a striking
conception.

THE PREMIER.--A semi-Tyrolean type in resilient chamois, which can
be readily converted to any desired shape, with or without extra
stiffening. Its adaptability and the patent sound-proof ear-flaps make
it particularly suitable for travellers. Detachable edelweiss and leek
trimming.

THE ERIC.--An adaptation of the _cap of maintenance_ in a special
elastic material, warranted not to burst under pressure of abnormal
expansion of the head of the wearer. Practically fool-proof.

THE WINNIE.--A fore-and-aft derived from a French model of the First
Empire period, the severity of which is mitigated by the addition of
little bells. A novelty is the mouthpiece in the crown, which enables
the hat to be used as a megaphone at need. An elastic loop holds a
fountain-pen in position. The whole to be worn on a head several sizes
too big for it.

THE CONAN.--A straw bonnet of bee-hive shape. Medium weight. In a
diversity of shades. The special puggaree of goblin blue material is
designed to protect the wearer from moonstroke without obscuring the
vision.

THE WARNER.--An easy-fitting crown carried out in harlequin flannel
surmounts a full brim of restful willow-green. Garnished with
intertwined laurel and St. John's-Wort, and decorated with the tail
feather of a Surrey fowl, it makes a comfortable and distinguished
headdress for a middle-aged gentleman.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Teacher._ "AND RUTH WALKED BEHIND THE REAPERS, PICKING
UP THE CORN THAT THEY LEFT. JOHN, WHAT DO WE CALL THAT?"

_John_ (_very virtuously_). "PINCHING."]

* * * * *

A SHIP IN A BOTTLE.

In a sailormen's restaurant Rotherhithe way,
Where the din of the docksides is loud all the day,
And the breezes come bringing off basin and pond
And all the piled acres of lumber beyond
From the Oregon ranges the tang of the pine
And the breath of the Baltic as bracing as wine,
In a fly-spotted window I there did behold,
Among the stale odours of hot food and cold,
A ship in a bottle some sailor had made
In watches below, swinging South with the Trade,
When the fello