occasion, but it is only since England forced this war upon Europe that I have seen that second meeting in its proper light.

I had been out shopping, and when I came back I found him in the garden playing with the children. We talked for a little on unimportant matters, and then I saw his eye wandering from me to the drawing-room. A soldier had just stepped through the open windows on to the lawn.

"Hallo," said Lord Kitchener, "it's Johnny."

As the latter came up Lord Kitchener smacked him warmly on the back.

"Well," he said, "my martial friend, how many Germans have you killed?" Then seeing that his friend appeared a little awkward he introduced him to me. "Fräulein Schmidt, this is one of our most famous warriors—Sir John French."

I could see that Sir John French was taken aback. He had evidently come down to discuss secretly the plan of campaign against a defenceless and utterly surprised Germany, which their friend and tool, Sir Edward Grey, was to put in motion—and forthwith a German governess had been let into the secret! No wonder he was annoyed! "You silly ass," he muttered, and became very red and confused.

Lord Kitchener, however, only laughed.

"It's all right," he said; "Fräulein Schmidt is Scotch. You can talk quite freely in front of her."

It was the typical British attitude of contempt for the possible enemy. But General French showed all that stubborn caution which was afterwards to mark his handling of the British mercenaries, and which is about to cost him so dearly.

"Don't be a fool, Horace," he mumbled, and relapsed into an impenetrable silence.

Mr. Brigsworth's mother, who lived with them, was a most interesting old lady. She seemed to be in the secrets of all the Royal Family and other highly placed personages, and told me many interesting things about them. "Ah, my dear," she would say, "they tell us in the papers that King George is shooting at Windsor, but——" and then she would nod her head mysteriously. "He's a working king," she went on after a little. "He doesn't waste his time on sport." In the light of after-events it is probable that she was right; and that when His Majesty George the Fifth was supposed to be at Windsor he was in reality in Belgium, looking out for sites for the notorious British siege-guns which have murdered so many of our brave soldiers.

In this connection I must relate one extraordinary incident. Young Mrs. Brigsworth had an album of celebrated people in the British political and social world. She was herself distantly connected, she told me, through her mother's people, with several well-known Society families, and it interested her to collect these photographs and paste them into a book. One day she was showing me her album, and I noticed that, on coming to a certain page, she turned hurriedly over, and began explaining a group on the next page very volubly.

"What was that last one?" I asked. "Wasn't it Mr. Winston Churchill?"

"Oh, that was nothing," she said quickly. "I didn't know I had that one; I must throw it away."

However, she had not been quick enough. I had seen the photograph; and events which have happened since have made it one of extraordinary significance.

It was a photograph of the First Lord of the Admiralty at Ostend in bathing costume!

As soon as I was left alone I turned to the photograph. "The First Lord amuses himself on his holiday" were the words beneath it. "Amuses himself!" Can there be any doubt in the mind of an impartial German that even then England had decided to violate the neutrality of Belgium, and that Mr. Churchill was, when photographed, examining the possibilities of Ostend as a base for submarines?

No wonder Mrs. Brigsworth had hurriedly turned over the page!

A. A. M.

"When the war was declared, 25,000 Bedouins were recruited in Hebrun, but they were without food for three days and returned to their homes saying this was not a Holy War."—Peshawar Daily News.

Their actual words were: "This is a——" well, not a Holy War.

Art Patron (to R.A.). "We've lost so much since the War that we've come to ask if you wouldn't like to keep this portrait of my wife as Cleopatra."

CHALK AND FLINT.

"WHO FORBIDS THE BANDS?"

Those who wish to give practical expression to the approval of the scheme for raising Military Bands to encourage recruiting—the subject of one of Mr. Punch's cartoons of last week—are earnestly invited to send contributions to the Lord Mayor at the Mansion House. Further information may be obtained at the offices of "Recruiting Bands," 16, Regent Street, S.W.

From a schoolboy's essay on the War:—

"When the Germans lose a few ships they make rye faces."

This kind of face comes, we believe, from the eating of the official War-bread.

Hint to the Germans at St. Mihiel:—

Milton: "Lycidas."