been referred to hereinafter as the landlord. When he had been established some weeks Mr. Toots wrote to say that he wanted seven different kinds of wine-glasses, six of each. Personally I wanted seven different kinds of Keating's Powder just then; tastes differ. The trouble with Mr. Toots was that for some reason he expected Celia to supply the glasses. Whether he only wanted them during his tenancy or meant to keep them afterwards, we never knew. In any case Celia was businesslike; she wrote regretting that she could not supply them.

But I was firm. I sent a picture-postcard of the champagne country, which said quite simply, "You must not drink wine during the War. My husband's milk-glass is in the corner cupboard."

Again, take the case of Mr. and Mrs. Winkle. After getting the flat practically presented to them for a small weekly bonus, they suggest that they should only pay half terms during the summer, as they wish to take the children to the seaside. Celia was for telegraphing to say that it was impossible. For myself I have just written the following letter:—

"Dear Sir,—Could I consult my own feelings I would say, 'Pay no rent at all during the summer. Further, why not sub-let the flat to any of your own friends who can afford to give you a few guineas a week for it? Nay more, let me have the privilege of paying your expenses at the Sunny South. What do you say to the Métropole at Brighton?' But, alas, I cannot speak thus; there are others to think of. The King of Greece, President Wilson, Marshal Joffre—I need say no more. You understand. Things will have to go on as they are, except that the rent will probably be doubled about July.

Yours admiringly."

This letter is now waiting to go off. Celia says it is waiting for a stamp. Personally I don't see the necessity for a stamp.

II.

There are people in the world called owners. I think nothing of them; Celia thinks nothing of them; jointly we do not think anything of them. However, as I said before, this is not a grammar.

For the last two years we have been renting cottages. Naturally Celia has had to do most of the work; the cut and thrust of a soldier's life has prevented me from taking my share of it. I have been so busy, off and on, seeing that my fellow-soldiers have baths, getting them shaved and entreating them to send their socks to the wash that I have had no time for domestic trifles. Celia has taken the cottage; I have merely allotted the praise or blame afterwards. I have also, of course, paid the money.

Our landlords have varied, but they are all alike in this. They think much more of their own comfort as landlords than of our happiness as tenants. They are always wanting things done for them. When they want things done for them, then I am firm. Indeed I am granite.

Take the case of Mr. Perkins, who owns our present cottage. Celia borrowed the cottage from Mr. Perkins at a rental of several thousands a week. I said it was too much when I heard of it; but it was then too late—she had already been referred to hereinafter as the tenant. As soon as we got in we began to make it look more like a cottage; that is to say, we accidentally dropped the aspidistra out of the window, lost the chiffonier, removed most of the obstacles and entanglements from the drawing-room to the box-room, and replaced the lace curtains with chintzes. In the same spirit of altruism we improved the bedrooms. At the end of a week we had given Mr. Perkins a cottage of which any man might be proud.

But there is no pleasing some people. A closer examination of the lease, in the hope that we had over-counted the noughts in the rental, revealed to us the following:—

"At the expiration of the said tenancy, all furniture and effects will be delivered up by the tenant in the same rooms and positions in which they were found."

Not a word of thanks, you notice, for the new avenues of beauty which we had opened out for him; no gratitude for the great revelation that art was not bounded by aspidistras nor comfort by chiffoniers; nothing but that old reactionary spirit to which, if I may speak of lesser things, the Russian Revolution was due. Like Mr. Perkins, the Bourbons learned nothing and forgot nothing.

Naturally I wrote to Mr. Perkins:—

"Dear Sir,—I regret to inform you that the aspidistra has perished. It never took kindly to us and started wilting on the second day. As regards other objets d'art once in the drawing-room, but now seeking the seclusion of the box-room, we are in a little difficulty. Before letting it go my wife took the bearing of the marble how-now from the bamboo what-not and made it 28° 20', quite forgetting, unfortunately, that the what-not had also decided to lie fallow for a season. Consequently, while the direction of the what-not-how-now line is definitely fixed, their actual positions remain unestablished. Is it too much to hope that when the time comes for them to seek again the purer air of the drawing-room they will be able to rely upon the guidance of an old friend like yourself rather than upon that of two comparative strangers?

Yours anxiously."

III.

Sometimes I wonder what Mr. Perkins would say if I suggested paying half-rent during the winter.

Sometimes Celia wonders what she will say if she finds that Mrs. Winkle has re-arranged all her furniture for her.

"We might," said Celia, looking at the two letters, "send the Perkins one to Mrs. Winkle and the Winkle one to Mr. Perkins."

"Why?" I asked.

"Just to show how broad-minded we are," said Celia.

A.A.M.

Economy.

Seen in a Birmingham shop window:

"SECOND & FURNITURE."

A BAD DREAM.

Spectre. "WELL, IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE LOOK OF ME, EAT LESS BREAD."

ON THE SPY-TRAIL.

Jimmy says he thought there must he something the matter with Jones minimus, he was so gloomy.

He actually told Jimmy that he wished he was in heaven. Jimmy had to tell him not to say such wicked things, because sometimes when you wished things like that they came true, and then where would Jones minimus be?

Jimmy says it takes a lot to make Jones minimus gloomy, but it turned out that he had lost the War Loan; he had either lost or mislaid it, he told Jimmy.

It was on a card, and Jones minimus only wanted another shilling to make 15s. 6d., and then in five years they gave you one pound, and it was because of the compound interest someone invented.

Jimmy says as they were talking the milkman came up and asked if they had seen his pig. The milkman is always losing his pig. Jimmy says it wanders off for a walk nearly every day talking to itself and going into gardens and relishing things. It is a very good relisher, Jimmy says.

Jimmy says the milkman's pig is being talked about in home circles; but it doesn't seem to mind, it just goes on its way.

You can always tell the milkman's pig by the black spot on its back.

Jimmy says he knows a man who is going to shoot the pig at sight next time.

Jimmy was just telling the milkman that he ought to put butter on its feet to make it stay at home, when Jones minimus suddenly remembered. He had put the War Loan in his algebra book and left it in Jimmy's garden. Jimmy