Lizard. This I sent to him, and on the 22nd he replied:--

"DEAR WILLIAM,--I acknowledge your map with many thanks. There is one more
thing. My doctor insists on a very special diet. Can your cook make
porridge? I rely very largely on porridge for breakfast and ..."

I saw myself smiling at Lord DEVONPORT and wired back, "Have you ever known
a cook who couldn't make porridge?"

And on the 27th he issued his ultimatum:--

"DEAR WILLIAM,--I have consulted my doctor and he thinks I ought not to
tempt Providence by travelling at present, so I have decided to remain in
Malvern. I do hope ..."

To this I replied:--

"DEAR WIGGLES,--Holding as you do the old pagan view of Providence, you are
quite right not to tempt it. The loss is mine. I hope you will soon be
rather less unwell."

Then I went away for three days without leaving an address, and when I
returned it was to learn that Wiggles had arrived on the previous evening.
And in my study I found him, together with four wires (two to say he wasn't
coming and two to say he was) and a table loaded with prescriptions.

He eats enormously.

* * * * *

INKOMANIA.

(_Suggested by Mr. SIMONIS' recently published volume._)

O Street of Ink, O Street of Ink,
Where printers and machinsts swink
Amid the buzz and hum and clink;
By night one cannot sleep a wink,
There is no time to stop or think,
One half forgets to eat or drink,
One's brains are knotted in a kink,
One always lives upon the brink
Of "happenings" that strike one pink.
One day the dollars gaily chink,
The next your funds to zero shrink.
And yet I'm such a perfect ninc-
Ompoop I cannot break the link
That binds me to the Street of Ink.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Tommy_ (_to Officer who has only arrived in the trench by
accident_). "IF YOU'RE A-LOOKIN' FOR THE BURIED CABLE, SIR, IT'S FURTHER
ALONG."]

* * * * *

CHILDREN'S TALES FOR GROWN-UPS.

VI.

THE CAT AND THE KING.

The cat looked at the King.

She was the boldest cat in the world, but her heart stood still as she
vindicated the immemorial right of her race.

What would the King say? What would the King do?

Would he call her up to sit on his royal shoulder? If so, she would purr
her loudest to drown the beating of her heart, and she would rub her head
against the royal ear. How splendid to be a royal cat!

Or p