having all these nice people to fall back on when I am worn out with War-winning and Tribunal duties.

Wrote a wonderful article on the importance of dressing up some one to look like Hindenburg and dropping him at night by parachute from an aeroplane into the German lines near Head-Quarters. It would have to be a biggish man who can speak German well—Mr. Chesterton perhaps, but I have never met Mr. Chesterton, as he seems never to lunch or dine at the Ritz; or even Lord Haldane. Once safely landed (my article goes on to explain) he would make his way to German H. Q., being mistaken for the real Hindenburg, kill him and then issue orders to the Army which would quickly put the Germans in our power. Strange that no one else has thought of this.

It is very awkward to be the only man in London who has the truth in him. Relieved some of my embarrassment by a glass or two of remarkable 1794 brandy.

Winston came to Carryon Hall to dine and we discussed his future. I mapped out the next six months for him very carefully, and he promised to follow my counsel; but I am afraid that Lady Randolph may interfere.

My Hindenburg article not in The Times yet. Cannot think what is coming to journalism. And Northcliffe calls himself a hustler.

Sent for the Prime Minister and gave him a piece of my mind. He ought to be more careful in future.

Lunched at the Carlton with George Graves and had some valuable War talk.

In the afternoon to the Tribunal, where all excuses were disregarded and everyone packed off to the recruiting officer.

In the evening to a first-class revue at the Palace.

Had gratifying visit from Anatole France's friend, M. Putois, who told me that the French look to me as the only Englishman capable of winning the War. My articles are read everywhere, and some have been set to music.

More men must be obtained, and therefore wrote a capital article calling on all criminals to cease their labours during the War, in order to release the police for the army. After this effort, which was very tiring, lunched at the Ritz with Ethel Levey, Lavery and Soveral. Some good riddles were asked. A discussion followed on ladies' boots, and whether toes should be pointed or square. From this we passed to stockings and then to lingerie. Tore myself away to attend to my Tribunal duties.

Met the Gloomy Dean in the Mall and walked with him to the Rag., where he left me. A most diverting man. He told me a capital story about a curate and an egg.

Finished a rattling good article on a way to make our army look more impressive to the foe, namely by fitting each man with a dummy man on either side of him. Bosch aeroplane observers would imagine then that we were three times as strong as we are, and some very desirable results might follow.

Sent for Northcliffe and told him that unless my articles are treated with more respect I cannot go on and the War will be lost. He seemed to be impressed, but you never know.

Lunched at Claridge's with Lady Cunard, Lady Diana Manners and George Robey. We were all very witty.

In the afternoon saw Robertson at the W.O. and told him of my dummy soldier idea. He roared with delight.

Wrote one of my best articles, on the importance of either L. G. learning French or Clemenceau learning English. Very depressed all day; have lost my appetite.

Dined at the Ritz. A large party, including Lady Cunard and Lady Diana Manners. The Princess of X. was present and I found her intelligent. Afterwards to Lady Y.'s for bridge. The cards were mad, but we had some wonderful rubbers, the four best players in London being concerned.

Wrote one of my best articles, on the importance of eating and drinking and being merry during great national crises. Urged among other things the addition of restaurant cars to all trains, even those on the Tubes. It is madness to encourage seriousness, as The Times is doing.

My eating article not printed. Practice, however, is more than precept, and I shall continue to do my bite.

E. V. L.

THE END OF AN IMPERFECT DAY.

"One of those tins of salmon, please."

Another Sex-Problem.

Local Paper.

"In the second part of the programme Miss —— was associated with Mr. —— in 'It was a Lover and His Last.'

Australian Paper.

Let us hope she will remain so.

"Rejoicing in a measure of freedom after the harassing restrictions of the war, Scotsmen are not eager to thrust their necks into the nose again."

Daily Paper.

They prefer, we imagine, to thrust the nose of the bottle into their necks.

"Every British voter on the sea coast is at heart a sailor."

Daily Chronicle.

At heart, no doubt. But how many have found to their cost that it is in fact another organ which affords the ultimate test of sailorship.

CHECK BY THE QUEEN

.

I had never before seen the Fairy Queen in such an agitated condition. She came dashing in, her cheeks glowing, her eyes aflame, her tiny form positively quivering with indignation and excitement.

In her hand she held a small scrap of paper, which she waved about in a frantic manner just in front of my nose.

"Look," she said, "look! My Press Agency sent it me this morning. Did you ever hear of such a thing? It's outrageous, it's incredible, it's.... Oh, don't sit staring there as if it didn't matter. Can't you say something—suggest something?"

"Your Majesty," I said humbly, for one has to be a little careful when dealing with incensed Royalty, "I haven't been able to read it yet."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said with quick contrition; "I'm afraid I'm apt to get a little carried away when I'm upset. But surely this is more than anybody could be expected to stand, mortal or immortal."

She settled down on the desk in front of me, spreading out the crumpled bit of paper on the blotter and holding the ends down with her little hands.

"There," she said—"read it." And this is what I read:—