w one July morning as we opened
our papers.

"PUSHING THE CHISEL (_Free Style_).

"1. P. Riley (Great Britain), 5-3/4 in. (World's Record). 2. H.
Biffpoffer (America), 5-1/2 in. A. Wafer (America) was disqualified
for going outside the wood."

. . . . .

And so England was herself again. There was only one discordant note in
her triumph. Mr. P. A. Vaile pointed out in all the papers that Peter
Riley, in the usual pig-headed English way, had been employing entirely
the wrong grip. Mr. Vaile's book, _How to Push the Chisel_, illustrated
with 50 full plates of Mr. Vaile in knickerbockers pushing the Chisel,
explained the correct method.

THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT

"It's my birthday to-morrow," said Mrs. Jeremy as she turned the pages
of her engagement book.

"Bless us, so it is," said Jeremy. "You're thirty-nine or twenty-seven
or something. I must go and examine the wine-cellar. I believe there's
one bottle left in the Apollinaris bin. It's the only stuff in the house
that fizzes."

"Jeremy! I'm only twenty-six."

"You don't look it, darling; I mean you do look it, dear. What I
mean--well, never mind that. Let's talk about birthday presents. Think
of something absolutely tremendous for me to give you."

"A rope of pearls."

"I didn't mean that sort of tremendousness," said Jeremy quickly.
"Anyone could give you a rope of pearls; it's simply a question of
overdrawing enough from the bank. I meant something difficult that would
really prove my love for you--like Lloyd George's ear or the Kaiser's
cigar-holder. Something where I could kill somebody for you first. I am
in a very devoted mood this morning."

"Are you really?" smiled Mrs. Jeremy. "Because----"

"I am. So is Baby, unfortunately. She will probably want to give you
something horribly expensive. Between ourselves, dear, I shall be glad
when Baby is old enough to buy her own presents for her mamma. Last
Christmas her idea of a complete edition of Meredith and a pair of
silver-backed brushes nearly ruined me."

"You won't be ruined this time, Jeremy. I don't want you to give me
anything; I want you to show that devotion of yours by _doing_ something
for me."

"Anything," said Jeremy grandly. "Shall I swim the Channel? I was
practising my new trudgeon stroke in the bath this morning." He got up
from his chair and prepared to give an exhibition of it.

"No, nothing like that." Mrs. Jeremy hesitated