swelled the more readily as there are many to echo it. So Major John Wharton, D.S.O., M.C., having found war, contrary to his expectation of it as the most glorious manly sport in the world, a "muddy, mad, stinking, bloody business," loses the faith of his youth and says so, not with bravado but with regret. The Vicar, with dignity and restraint, but without much understanding and not without some hoary clichés; his wife, with venom (suggesting also incidentally sound argument for the celibacy of the clergy); the old Colonel and his sweet unselfish wife, with affection; and Sylvia, John's betrothed, with a strange passion, defend the old faith, Sylvia to the point of breaking with her lover and getting her to a nunnery—a business which will in the end, I should guess, lay a heavier burden upon the nuns than upon John. The indecisive battle sways hither and thither. It is the Doctor who sums up in a compromise which would shock the metaphysical theologian, but may suffice for the plain man, "God is merciful but not omnipotent. In His age-long fight against evil we can help—or hinder; why not help?"

The most signal thing was Miss Haidée Wright's personal triumph as Mrs. Littlewood—a very fine interpretation of an interesting character. Mr. Charles V. France adds another decent Colonel to his military repertory. This actor always plays with distinction and with an ease of which the art is so cleverly concealed as perhaps to rob him of his due meed of applause from the unperceptive. Lady Tree made a beautiful thing of the character of Mrs. Wharton, whose simple unselfishness was the best of all Mr. Maugham's arguments for the defence. Mr. R.H. Hignett nobly restrained himself from making a too parsonic parson, yet kept enough of the distinctive flavour to excite a passionate anti-clerical behind me into clamorously derisive laughter; a very good piece of work. Miss O'Malley acted a difficult, almost an impossibly difficult, part with a fine distinction. Mr. Basil Rathbone's Major and Mr. Blakiston's Doctor were excellent. I am sorry to be so monotonously approving....

I am not convinced that Mr. Maugham's experiment has succeeded.

T.

"Mr. —— maintained that it was extraordinuary that if he was only slightly dead deceased did not hear the lorry."—Local Paper.

Most extraordinuary.

Generous Stranger. "Will you have another pint? (No answer.) I say—will you have another pint?"

Hodge. "Don't 'ee ask zilly questions. Order it."

THE MYSTERY.

George and I are two ordinary people. He studies the Weather Reports every day; I do occasionally. He thinks he understands meteorology; I don't. But lately I felt that I must have some explanation of the weather, so I asked George to explain it.

He said, "Certainly; it's quite simple. Take wind. Wind is caused by differences of pressure."

"What is pressure? Who is pressing what?"

"Pressure is what the barometer tells you—not the thermometer; you must keep the thermometer out of this. Suppose it is very hot in London—"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, suppose it is very hot at a place A—"

"I thought we were keeping the thermometer out of this."

"It comes in indirectly. But don't keep interrupting. If it is very hot at the place A, the air at A rises. You see?"

"No."

"Obviously it does. If you