after a little I began to see I had perhaps over-estimated my affection for Dulcie. At the time I was wounded I had owed her a letter for some time, I remember. When I got back to England I did not let Dulcie know at once, but after a while she heard where I was in hospital and came to see me. In the meantime I had met Daphne."

"This is a highly discreditable story," said Cotterell. "I am sorry I allowed you to tell it."

"I won't finish it, then," said Spilbury complacently.

"Yes, you must finish it now."

"Well, I didn't quite know what to do about it. I had felt when we were somewhere in England that Dulcie brought out all that was best in me. I found now that Daphne brought out still more."

"She must have been a clever girl," I said.

"She was," said Spilbury, "but I saw that if they both tried at once they might bring out almost too much. I had to act quickly, for Dulcie was already by my bedside."

"'Well, Reggie,'" she said.

"I looked at her kindly but firmly.

"'I think there is some mistake,' I said. 'I don't remember having met you.' Then I pointed to my bandaged head, and added, 'I may have forgotten. My memory isn't very good.'

"Well, she chatted a bit about general subjects, and then departed. I don't mind saying I felt rather a worm. Also I wasn't quite sure that Dulcie couldn't bring out more that was good in me than Daphne, after all. So I thought about it a bit, and then wrote and said I'd remembered her now, and would she come again to see me? She wrote back and said she would, and I must congratulate her as she was just engaged to be married. That was a rotten day, I remember, because in the afternoon Daphne came and said that she was engaged to be married too. A perfect epidemic. But that's beside the point."

"The point was, if I remember rightly," said Cotterell, "that it's a great advantage to have your head bandaged. Have you quite proved it?"

"No," said Spilbury thoughtfully. "Now you mention it, I hardly think I have. But if my story acts as an example and a warning I shall be satisfied."

So as an example and a warning (though of what or to whom is not too clear) I have recorded it.

MUSICAL MURMURINGS.

(By our Orchestral Expert.)

The full programme for the season of Promenade Concerts which opened last Saturday is, as usual, a most interesting document, and we are of course glad to see that our gallant Allies are so well represented. But it is the function of the critic to criticise, and we may be permitted to express a mild regret that our native school, though by no means excluded, does not make so good a show as its energy and talents would seem to warrant. Our native composers are especially noticeable for their wide range of themes, for the Celtic and Gaelic glamour which they infuse into their treatment of them, and for their realistic titles. We have drawn up a list of instrumental works which illustrate these characteristics, but which are unfortunately conspicuous by their absence from Sir HENRY WOOD'S scheme. As, however, it is subject to alteration we are not without the hope that some of them may yet be included in the list of works to be heard at the Queen's Hall in the next six weeks.

SYMPHONIC VARIATIONS. "Father's lost his collar-stud." Hans Halfburn.

KELTIC KORONACH. "Wirrasthrue." Seumas Macdthoirbwlch.

FUNERAL MARCH OF A CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR. Nelson Wellington.

SIAMESE LULLABY for Sixteen Trombones. Quantock de Banville.

FANTASIA. "Wardour Street." Yokeling Ffoulkes.

MANX MEDITATION for Revolving Orchestra. "Laxey Wheel." Bradda Quellyn.

OVERTURE. "Glasgow Fair." Talisker McUsquebaugh.

CAMBRIAN "SNEEZE" for Full Orchestra. Taliesin Jones.

ORCHESTRA MUSINGS ON IRISH RAILWAY STATIONS. Dermod MacCathmhaoil. (a) Stillorgan. (b) Dundrum. (c) Bray.

BUBBLINGS FROM BUTE. Diarmid Dinwiddie.

DITHYRAMBIC ODE. "The Belles of Barmouth." Ivor Jenkins.

VALSE FANTASTIQUE. "Synthetic Rubber." Marcellus Thom.

CHEMIN DES DAMES.

"No persons were injured and no houses were bit by the bombs."—Sunday Pictorial.

But they barked horrid.

CORNERED.

KAISER (having read Mr. GERARD'S German reminiscences). "I NEVER SAW A MORE ABOMINABLE TISSUE OF DELIBERATE TRUTHS."

A LIFE OF PLEASURE.

"MOTHER, NURSE PUT ME RIGHT INTO THE VERY COLDEST PART OF THE SEA."

THE BROWN CART-HORSE.

"Brain-fag! That's wot we 'orses are suffering from. Ah! there's bin a deal o' queer things 'appen since they women started on the farm! I shan't never forget the first time one of them females come into my stall. The roan pony, wot's got sentimental thro' being everlasting driven in the governess-cart, sez she was a pretty young woman. I never noticed nothing 'bout 'er 'cept the pink rose in 'er button-'ole. I never 'eard tell of a farm 'and with a pink rose in 'is shirt before. Maybe such carryings on is all right for they grooms an' kerridge-'orses, but it ain't 'ardly decent for a respectable farm 'orse. So when this 'ere woman come along I up and 'as a grab at it. D'ye think she'd 'it me? I never 'ad such a shock in me life, not since I went backwards when the coal-cart tipped! Lor, lumme! if she didn't catch 'old of me round the neck an' kiss me! 'Oh, you darlin'!' she said, 'did you want me rose then, ducky?' I'm a brown 'orse, but I tell you I blushed chestnut that morning. 'Course the roan pony next door started giggling, and then she 'ad to go and kiss 'im, and that settled 'is little game.

"Well, then she come along with the collar. I need 'ardly tell you 'ow often she tried to fix it on the wrong way round. There I 'ad to stand with 'er shoving the blooming thing till I thought my 'ead would 'ave dropped orf. Being a female, it took 'er some time before she thought of putting the big end of the collar up first, but when she did I just took and put me 'ead thro' and nipped orf 'er rose. 'If that