underneath was the drawing of a coffin.

The Biffer had so far arrived at the second note.

Jimmy did hope they wouldn't choose the Biffer, for he could hear even now the Biffer's yell when he had made that awful mistake which had brought about the present deplorable situation.

Jimmy couldn't think how he had come to say what he did say; he could have bitten off his tongue when he realised it; but it was too late—he had said it.

He tried to think how it had all occurred, and the scene flashed again before his mind. There was the master with his pointer resting upon the Dogger Bank on the map of Europe.

"Who can tell me the name of this sea?" he had said, and Jimmy had snapped his fingers and waved his arm about in his anxiety to catch the master's eye. You see, it was so seldom, so very seldom, that Jimmy felt he knew the right answer to any question, and the new experience was intoxicating. The master too seemed to find it unusual, and he at once turned to Jimmy and said, "Well, what is this sea called, then?" Jimmy, full of the pride of knowledge, burst out with "The North Sea, Sir." Oh! if he had only stopped at that; but in his desire to show how much he knew he added without thinking the fatal words, "or German Ocean!"

In the shout of derision which had followed, Jimmy realised what he had said, and felt himself falling, falling, falling....

Jimmy became aware that the noise on the opposite side of the playground was ceasing, and soon, from the corner of his eye, he saw Jones minimus detach himself from the crowd. "Half a mo'," he heard Jones minimus say; "I want to get a knotted handkerchief," and he saw him hurry into the school. As he emerged he flourished the knotted handkerchief, but when delivering the verdict to Jimmy that he would have to run the gauntlet three times to the tune of the knotted handkerchiefs of Form II., he tried to smuggle into Jimmy's hands an exercise-book which he said Jimmy could stuff up his back; it would stick there if Jimmy buttoned his jacket, he said, and it would take the sting off a bit. Jimmy had to bite his lip as he refused the exercise-book, and then with head erect and lips no longer trembling he went forth to face the ordeal.

Form II. had arranged themselves in two ranks, facing one another, and the knots in the handkerchiefs were firm and hard. "You have got to bunk through and back again and then down again," said Jones minimus in a hoarse whisper.

The Biffer was at the head of one rank, and had got his handkerchief slung over his shoulder in happy readiness for the first blow.

"Are you ready? Go!" shouted Form II. in one voice.

At the word "Go!" Jimmy pulled his hands out of his pockets—he was glad his mother wasn't there to see him—and with head still up and eyes to the front he walked slowly up the double lines and as slowly down them. The Biffer got in a good one, he got in two before Jimmy was out of reach, and he then changed the handkerchief to his left hand in readiness for the return journey. Arrived at the end of the lines, Jimmy turned on his heel and began to walk even more slowly than at first.

But there was no sting in the blows this time; all the zest seemed to have gone out of the affair; and, but for the whack the Biffer gave, Jimmy never felt anything. The third time down was a farce, for, after Jimmy had deliberately stopped opposite the Biffer in order to let him have as many as his injured soul required, no one touched him. In fact they were all shaking hands with Jimmy, who was now his smiling self once more and ready to play with the best of them, when suddenly the Biffer took it into his head to make a joke.

"Perhaps he is a German," said the Biffer, and waited for the general laugh to follow his sally.

But the laugh didn't come; instead there was a dead silence.

Who was the Biffer—a new boy at that—to call anyone a German? Instinctively a ring was formed and the Biffer found himself in the middle of it.

Jimmy took off his coat and gave it to Jones minimus, who danced for sheer delight.

Jimmy had only one regret: the butcher-boy was not there to see him—the butcher-boy who had expended so much time over him, had taught him the upper cut, the under cut, every cut that the heart of a butcher-boy delights in. The Biffer was very busy biffing the air with a rapid circular motion of the arms, for Jimmy's fixed scowl and set of jaw troubled him.

Oh, why wasn't the butcher-boy there to see that tremendous smack on the nose the Biffer got? He would have felt amply rewarded.

No one had ever seen Jimmy fight like this, and Jones minimus shouted in his joy, for the Biffer was outbiffed in every direction.

In vain did he cry "Pax," for Jimmy had not half relieved his feelings, and there was no end to the dodges the butcher-boy had taught him, each of which, he had said, meant sudden death.

"He's had enough, Jimmy," whispered Jones minimus. "I'm satisfied," he added as the Biffer, who was lying on the ground, refused to get up and have any more.

As the boys entered the class-room the next day there was the map of Europe still hanging up in front of the class, and the very first question that was asked by the master was, "Well, Jimmy, what is this sea?"

"The North Sea or British Ocean, Sir!" said Jimmy, a reply that was greeted with a rousing cheer by the whole of Form II.

A SECOND HELPING!

A TURKISH TROPHY.

(A belated letter from Gallipoli.)

My dear ——, By this week's post I trust you will receive the long promised trophy, to wit one Turkish headpiece procured by my own personal exertions. As the story of its capture, though somewhat out of the ordinary, has been passed over in stony silence both by the official communiqués and "Our Special Correspondent" I shall endeavour to give you a brief impression of the difficulties overcome as truthfully as my sense of imagination will allow me. First of all I must draw a map:—

A B British trench, with traverses.

C D Turkish trench, without.

E F Ditch

G British barricade.

H Turkish barricade.

This should give you an idea of the English and Turkish lines at a point where they are about eighty yards apart. Without going into details you will see the English trench is of the superior pattern, as it has traverses. I had to work in that technical term to show I know all about it; I know another, "the berm," but I am not too sure about what that is, and also I don't suppose I could draw a "berm" if I saw one. Anyway, I know it's quite a good term connected with trenches, as I heard a G.O.C. fairly strafe a subaltern, the other day, because he hadn't got a "berm." Well, to refer to the map, you will observe that there is an old ditch running between the two lines of trenches, and both sides have advanced a certain distance along this ditch and have built barricades about ten yards apart. Every day it is part of my job to take a constitutional along our trenches, and after discussing the European situation and the latest Budget with the various battalion commanders to ask them whether there is any particularly obnoxious part of the opposition line they would like me to salute with my battery. Usually they