ould write to me but Johnny's father himself.
This was the letter:--

"Dear Sir,--I do not wish to interfere unduly in the affairs of the
other occupants of these flats, but I feel bound to call your attention
to the fact that for many weeks now there has been a flow of water from
your bathroom which has penetrated through the ceiling of my bathroom,
particularly after you have been using the room in the mornings. May I
therefore beg you to be more careful in future not to splash or spill
water on your floor, seeing that it causes inconvenience to the tenants
beneath you?

Yours faithfully, Jno. McAndrew."

You can understand how I felt about this. For months I had been
suffering Johnny in silence; yet, at the first little drop of water,
from above, Johnny's father must break out into violent abuse of me. A
fine reward! Well, Johnny's future could look after itself now; anyhow,
he was doomed with a selfish father like that.

"Dear Sir," I answered defiantly,--"Now that we are writing to each
other I wish to call your attention to the fact that for many months
past there has been a constant flow of one-fingered music from your
little boy, which penetrates through the floor of my library and makes
all work impossible. May I beg you therefore to see that your child is
taught a new tune immediately, seeing that the National Anthem has lost
its first freshness for the tenants above him?"

His reply to this came to-day.

"Dear Sir,--I have no child.

Yours faithfully, Jno. McAndrew."

I was so staggered that I could only think of one adequate retort.

"Dear Sir," I wrote,--"I never have a bath."

So that's the end of Johnny, my boy prodigy, for whom I have suffered so
long. It is not Johnny but Jno. who struggles with the National Anthem.
He will give up music now, for he knows I have the bulge on him; I can
flood his bathroom whenever I like. Probably he will learn something
quieter--like painting. Anyway, Dr. John Bull's masterpiece will rise no
more through the ceiling of the flat below.

On referring to my encyclopaedia, I see that, according to some
authorities, "God Save the King" is "wrongly attributed" to Dr. Bull.
Well, I wrongly attributed it to Johnny. It is easy to make these
mistakes.

A. A. M.

* * * * *

WEST HIGHLAND.

With stern a-droop, a "dowie chiel,"
I see him lugged at Beauty's heel,
A captive bound on Fashion's wheel,
Down