diums.

One other thing. I have just returned from Paris, where, amid much that
is unsatisfactory and besmirched by Peace, taxis remain trustworthy and
plentiful. The price marked on the meter is that which the fare pays,
and any number of persons may ride in the cab without extra charge.
Nothing exceeds my scorn for the English taxi-driver who demands another
ninepence for an additional passenger, even though only a child--nothing
except my scorn for the cowardly official who conceded this monstrous
imposition.

* * *

TO AN ADMINISTRATOR.

DEAR SIR,--May I implore you to authorise the instant removal of the
buildings in the St. James's Park lake? During the War we who find on
the suspension bridge, looking West, the most beautiful late afternoon
view in London, were content to endure the invasion. But we have passed
the second Armistice Day, and still the huts remain, and still there is
no water, and still the enchanted prospect is denied us. After all,
this lake is part of London, and London ratepayers should be entitled to
their city's beauties as well as its necessities.

* * *

TO A PRETTY GIRL.

MY DEAR,--I want you to be a little more merciful. The other day, when
your father, over the eggs and bacon, was reading out the news from
Greece, with the defeat of VENIZELOS, you said lightly that exile didn't
matter very much because VENIZELOS was a very old man. You then returned
to the absorbing occupation of identifying Society people, reading from
left to right. Now VENIZELOS is fifty-five years of age, and I cannot
allow the term "very old" to be applied to him without protest; I am too
nearly his contemporary. "Getting on," if you like, "mature," "ripe,"
but not "very old." You must keep that phrase for the people who--well,
who _are_ very old.

* * *

TO A HABERDASHER.

DEAR SIR,--When I came to put on the collar that I bought from you
yesterday (I am the tallish customer who takes sixteen and a half by two
and was in a hurry to get home to dress) I found that your young man's
finger-marks were on it. Why don't you make your assistants wear gloves
when they handle collars?

* * *

TO A MINISTER OF RELIGION.

YOUR FAR-FROM-SERENE GLOOMINESS,--Won't you one day be a little
cheerful, and wrong? Won't you send out a lifeboat to the wreck instead
of watching her through your smoked field-glasses as she sinks? What you
seem