ill 10.15, nor, on the other hand, having waved an airy
good morning to the butcher, the baker and the grocer as I trotted
along, can I very well go back and undo it. And then the derision at
home, the half-drunk stirrup-cup of coffee standing tepid and forlorn.
But, as I say, the 9.5 is a perfectly sound train. It is quite true that
it goes to Brighton, but the weather has been very warm of late. I hate
these splits in the local Hunt, but there it is.

EVOE.

* * * * *

Illustration: "THE RESOURCES OF CIVILISATION."

MR. LLOYD GEORGE. "STICK TO IT, BONAR. POOR OLD SISYPHUS NEVER HAD AN
IMPLEMENT LIKE THIS."

* * * * *

Illustration: HIGH LIFE ON THE UNDERGROUND.

_Lady (to tiresome individual)._ "I'VE ALREADY TOLD YOU--HAMMERSMITH IS
THE NEXT BUT ONE. THE NEXT IS BARON'S COURT. THAT'S MY STATION, NOT
YOURS."

_The Individual._ "AHEM! THE BARONESS, I PRESOOM?"

* * * * *

THE DINING GLADIATOR;

OR, WAR TO THE KNIFE (AND FORK).

(_Being further Extracts from a certain Diary_).

_August 4th, 1914._--Declaration of War. I hereby take a solemn oath not
to relax my efforts to win this struggle for England, even if it costs
me my last drop of ink.

Began my series of powerful articles by calling for KITCHENER, of whom I
now, if guardedly, approve. Lunched at the Carlton and dined at the Ritz
to let all the world see that I am not downhearted.

* * *

Spent the morning at the War Office, showing everyone how the work there
ought to be done. Then to Downing Street to put things right there.

Lunched at Claridge's with six Leading Ladies, all of them cheery souls.

* * *

Week-ended at Melton. Some good tennis and bridge. Fear that none of our
generals really knows his job.

* * *

I have been wondering to-day if any other military journalist could
possibly know such a lot of the Smart Set, and so intimately as I do. I
am extraordinary lucky in having all these nice people to fall back on
when I am worn out with War-winning and Tribunal duties.

* * *

Wrote a wonderful article on the importance of dressing up some one to
look like HINDENBURG and dropping him at night by parachute from an
aeroplane into the German lines near Head-Quarters. It would have to be
a biggish man who can speak German well--Mr. CHESTERTON perhaps, but I
have never met Mr. CHESTERTON, as he seems neve