"My boy got out a month ago."

"H-h-h-how?" said William.

"Ah well, you see, he's going up to Cambridge. Complete his education
and all the rest of it. They let 'em out at once on that."

"Ah!" said William thoughtfully.

William is thirty-eight, but he has taken the great decision. He is
going up to Cambridge next term. He thinks it will be quicker. He no
longer stands in the queue for two hours every day; he spends the time
instead studying for his Little Go.

A.A.M.

* * * * *

TREES AND FAIRIES.

The larch-tree gives them needles
To stitch their gossamer things;
Carefully, cunningly toils the oak
To shape the cups of the fairy folk;
The sycamore gives them wings.

The lordly fir-tree rocks them
High on his swinging sails;
The hawthorn fashions their tiny spears,
The whispering alder charms their ears
With soft mysterious tales.

The chestnut decks their ball-room
With candles red and white,
While all the trees stand round about
With kind protecting arms held out
To guard them through the night.

R.F.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE LOST ALLY.

PEACE. "I HOPED HE WOULD MAKE MY PATH EASIER FOR ME--NOT MORE
DIFFICULT."]

* * * * *

THE MINISTERIAL TREADMILL.

(_BEING A FREE RESUME OF LORD CURZON'S SPEECH AT THE ECCENTRIC CLUB ON
WEDNESDAY THE 22ND._)

Lord CURZON rises with the lark--
That is (at present) when it's dark--
Breakfasts in haste on tea and toast,
Then grapples with the early post,
And reads the newspapers, which shed
Denunciation on his head.
Having digested their vagaries
He calls his faithful secretaries
And keeps them writing, sheet on sheet,
Until he's due in Downing Street.
The Cabinet is seldom through
Until the clock is striking two,
When Ministers, dispersing, munch
Their frugal sandwiches for lunch.
Then back into affairs of State
Again they plunge from three till eight,
Presiding, guiding, interviewing,
Tea conscientiously eschewing,
Until exhausted nature cries
At half-past eight for more supplies.
Another hasty meal is snatched
And, when the viands are despatched,
Once more our admirable Crichton,
Though feeling like a weary Titan,
Resumes the toil of brain and pen
Till two is sounded by Big Ben.

* * * * *

The life of those whom