overtaken, while in course of time the pursuit ceases altogether, the greatest danger is not immediate but for the future. Let us imagine a case.]

From "The Margotist's Reminiscences."

By the Author of Statesmen I Have Influenced; My Wonderful Life; The Souls' Awakener; The Elusive Diary, etc., etc.

One of my dearest friends in the early nineteen hundreds was Mr. Sadrock. I have known eleven Prime Ministers in my time and have assurances from all, signed and witnessed, that but for me and my vivacious encouragement they would never have pulled through; but with none was I on terms of such close communion as with Mr. Sadrock, who not only asked my advice on every occasion of importance, but spent many of his waking hours in finding rhymes to my name. Some of his four-lined couplets in my honour could not be either wittier or more charming as compliments.

He often averred that no one could amuse him as I did. He laughed once for half-an-hour on end when I said, "It takes a Liberal to be a Tory;" and on another occasion when I said, "The essence of Home Rule is, like charity, that it begins abroad." Nothing but the circumstance that he was already happily married prevented him from proposing to me.

Mr. Sadrock is now to many people only a name; but in his day he was a force to compare with which we have at this moment only one statesman and he is temporarily out of office.

The odd thing is that if the ordinary person were to be asked what Mr. Sadrock was famous for, he would probably reply, For his devotion to Homer and the Established Church. But the joke is that when I was with him in 1902 he was frivolous on both these subjects. It was, I remember, in the private room at the House of Commons set apart for Prime Ministers, to which, being notoriously so socially couth, I always had a private key—the only one ever given to a woman—and he was more than usually delightful.

This is what was said:—

Mr. Sadrock (mixing himself an egg nogg). Will you join me?

Myself. No, thank you. But I like to see you applying yourself to Subsidiary Studies to the Art of Butler.

Mr. Sadrock (roaring with laughter). That's very good. Some day you must put your best things into a book.

Myself. You bet.

Mr. Sadrock. I wonder why it is that you make me so frank. It is your wonderful sympathetic understanding, I suppose. I long to tell you something now.

Myself (affecting not to care). Do. I am secrecy itself.

Mr. Sadrock. Would it surprise you to know that I am privily a Dissenter? Do you know that I often steal away in a false beard to attend the services of Hard-Shell Baptists and Plymouth Brethren?

Myself. I hope I am no longer capable of feeling anything so démodé as surprise.

Mr. Sadrock. And that I prefer Robert Elsmere to the Iliad?

Myself. May I print those declarations in my book?

Mr. Sadrock. Some day, yes, but not yet, not yet.

Mr. Sadrock and Nonconformity.

To the Editor of "The Monday Times."

Sir,—I find it necessary, in the interests of truth and of respect for the memory of my uncle, Mr. Sadrock, to contest the accuracy of the Margotist's report of conversations with him in 1902. To begin with, my uncle died in 1898, four years before the alleged interview. She could therefore not have talked with him in 1902; and the locale of this meeting, the Prime Minister's room, becomes peculiarly fantastic. Secondly, no member of his family—and they saw him constantly—ever heard him utter anything resembling the sentiments which the Margotist attributes to him. Mr. Sadrock was both an undeviating Churchman and a devotee of Homer to the end of his life.

I am, etc.,

Theophilus Sadrock.

The Margotist's Reply.

Sir,—I have read Mr. Theophilus Sadrock's letter and am surprised by its tone. If Mr. Sadrock did not make use of the words that I attribute to him how could I have set them down? Because I was writing unobserved all the time he was talking, and I could produce the notes if they were, to others, legible enough for it to be worth while; surreptitious writing must necessarily be indistinct at times. As for the question of time and place, that is a mere quibble. Mr. Sadrock was alive when we had our talk, and I am sorry if I have misdated it. The talk remains. May I add that it is very astonishing to me to find people with the effrontery to suggest that they knew their illustrious relatives better than strangers could. Everyone is aware that the last place to go to for evidence as to a man is to his kith and kin. When my book appears there will be a few corrections; but in the main I stand by the motto which I invented for Chamberlain one evening: "What I have written I have written."

I am, Yours, etc.,

The Margotist.

The Woop.

From "Sadrock: a Definitive Biography."

Published in 1940.

Before leaving our consideration of Sadrock's Homeric studies it is however necessary to point out that late in life he made a very curious recantation. In a book of memoirs, published in 1920, by one who was in a position to acquire special information, it is stated in his own words that Sadrock preferred Robert Elsmere to the Iliad; while during the same conversation he confessed to a passion for the services of Dissenters, which, he said, he often frequented incognito. No biographer can disregard such admissions, and we must revise our opinion of the great statesman accordingly.

E.V.L.

"Sale, Gent's Evening Suit, Tennis Trousers, Sweater, Black Silk Coat suit elderly lady."—Irish Paper.

The revolutionary movement in Ireland seems to have reached even the fashions.

"London, July 16.

It is reported on reliable authority that General Wrangel has refused to withdraw to the Cinema in compliance with the terms of the proposed armistice.—Statesman (Calcutta).

It is believed that "Mary" and "Doug." were greatly relieved to be rid of so dangerous a rival.

"When is the demoralisation at some of our great London hotels to give place to reasonable service and cleanliness? On every side I hear complaints of inefficient attendance and dirty rooms. As for clean towels in the bathroom, they appear on the Ides of March."—Sunday Paper.

At one hotel, we understand, they failed to remember the Ides of March and are now waiting for the Greek Kalends.

THE "DO-IT-YOURSELF" AGE.

FATHER'S HOME-MADE SWEATER.