s the rub
Alike for Labour and Beelzebub.

And anyhow I hope that, where
At red of dawn on Rigi's height
He jodels to the astonished air,
LLOYD GEORGE is bent on sitting tight;
Nor, as he did in THOMAS' case,
Nurses a scheme for saving SMILLIE'S face.

Why should his face be saved? indeed,
Why should he have a face at all?
But, if he _must_ have one to feed
And smell with, let the man install
A better kind, and thank his luck
That _all_ his headpiece hasn't come unstuck.

O.S.

* * * * *

A WHIFF OF THE BRINY.

As I entered the D.E.F. Company's depot, Melancholy marked me for her own.
Business reasons--not my own but the more cogent business reasons of an
upperling--had just postponed my summer holiday; postponed it with a lofty
vagueness to "possibly November. We might be able to let you go by then, my
boy." November! What would Shrimpton-on-Sea be like even at the beginning
of November? Lovely sea-bathing, delicious boating, enchanting picnics on
the sand? I didn't think. Melancholy tatooed me all over with anchors and
pierced hearts, to show that I was her very own, not to be taken away.

I clasped my head in my hands and gazed in dumb agony at the menu card. A
kind waitress listened with one ear.

"Poached egg and bacon--two rashers," I murmured.

While I waited I crooned softly to myself:--

"Poor disappointed Georgie. Life seems so terribly sad.
All the bacon and eggs in the world, dear, won't make you a happy lad."

When the dish was brought I eyed it sadly. Sadly I raised a mouthful of
bacon to my lips....

Swish!!! The exclamation-marks signify the suddenness with which the train
swept into the station. I leapt down on to the platform and drew a long
breath. The sea! In huge whiffs the ozone rolled into my nostrils. I
gurgled with delight. Everything smelt of the dear old briny: the little
boys running about with spades and pails; the great basketsful of fish; the
blue jerseys of the red-faced men who, at rare intervals, toiled upon the
deep. At the far end of the platform I saw the reddest face of all, that of
my dear old landlord. I rushed to meet him....

Ah me, ah me! The incrusted-papered walls of the depot girt me in again. I
took another mouthful of bacon--a larger one....

Bang! Someone was thumping on the door of my bathing-machine. What a
glorious scent of salt rose from the sea-washed floor! "Are you coming
o