nto his ken Watson meets him on the threshold
and says, "Don't speak a word. Read this;" and he puts into his hand a
printed slip. The slip reads:--

"_ Conditions of Advocacy_.

"(1) If you put your case into my hands it ceases at once and from
that moment to be any concern of your own. You are not entitled, for
instance, to express any opinion as to whether you committed the
alleged crime or not. That is my affair exclusively.

"(2) If however there is anything which lies so heavily on your
conscience that it must out sooner or later, let it be later. I
am open to receive confessions at any time after proceedings have
begun.

"If you accept these conditions, good; if not, go."

Watson says they always accept them, so he never worries about the
General Council of the Bar.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE NEW ISSUE.

OIL GENIE _(gushingly, to Coal-Owner and Mr. SMILLIE)._ "CAN I DO
ANYTHING TO ALLAY THE TROUBLED WATERS?"

[The discovery of oil in Derbyshire, which threatens the supremacy of
the mining industry, may affect the questions now in dispute before the
Coal Commission.]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Harassed Mother (having distributed half of her
offspring on laps of passengers)._ "COME ON, 'ENERY. SQUEEZE IN
SOMEWHERE. 'TAIN'T EXAC'LY 'OW I LOIKES TO TRAVEL, BUT S'POSE WE'LL 'AVE
TO PUT UP WITH IT."]

* * * * *

AN ERROR IN TACTICS.

In the heart of the Foret de Roumare there is a spot called Rond du
Chene a Leu, where eight paths meet. Why they choose to meet there,
unless it is for company, one can't imagine. The fact that there is not
an estaminet within five kilometres nullifies its value as a military
objective. Therefore, having been decoyed thither by a plausible
guide-book, it was with surprise that I beheld an ancient representative
of the British Army smoking his pipe with the air of having been in
possession for centuries.

"Bit lonely here," I said.

"Rumble's Moor on a wet Friday's busy to it," he said emphatically. "Is
it reet the War's over?"

"Yes."

He puffed his pipe for a few minutes while the information soaked in.

"Who won?"

"The Peace Conference haven't decided yet."

Conversation languished until I remembered the guide-book.

"According to tradition," I said, "it was at this identical spot that
ROLLO, first Duke of Normandy, hun