"My dear boy," said he, "I'm awfully sorry. I feel for you. I wish I
hadn't done it--sincerely. But a fellow must live. Really, I
sympathise with you; let me grasp your hand."

"Not if I know it, you cad," said I; "and where's my mother?"

"That's another thing that troubles me," said he. "Tell me, did she
wear a brocaded silk gown with beads? Most unlucky for us both! Beads
never did agree with me. It's a warning to both of us to be more
particular. Really, you _must_ let me grasp your hand."

"Not much!" said I. "Look here, Blunderbore, I mean to show you up.
I'll let some of our fellows know about you, and you see if they don't
make you sit up before long."

"I feel much more like lying down," said he. "Would you mind handing me
that medicine bottle?"

"Don't you wish _you_ may get it!" said I, and cut.

I told Jack Smith about it, and he was no end riled. I must say, I feel
riled myself. It's specially awkward, because the mater had our return
tickets in her pocket; and I can't get away from here. I wish you'd
send me a sov., some of you. I'll square up after vac.

Yours ever, Hugh a Pie.

P.S.--Here's a go! Old Blunderbore's gone at last! Smith says it was
the steel armour inside him that did it. Serves him jolly well right!

From the _Giants' Bay Broadsheet_, July 29th.

It is with feelings almost akin to consternation that we announce the
sudden and critical illness of our esteemed fellow-citizen Giant
Cormoran. The regret with which we make this announcement will be
shared by all those visitors to this charming retreat who during the
last months have come into contact with the amiable and accommodating
gentleman.

Giant Cormoran is one of the old school of Englishmen whom we can ill
afford to lose. Capacious in mind and body, with a large sense of
humour, of strict personal integrity, and a hearty enjoyment of life, it
is indeed sad to think of him at the present moment as lying on a bed of
languishing, from which it is doubtful whether he will rise more. Very
little news leaks out from the sick-chamber. Dr Smith is in regular
attendance, and, according to a curt bulletin published an hour ago,
reports his patient's condition as exceedingly grave: "Giant Cormoran is
in a state of collapse. There is a complete loss of nervous power. The
patient has quite lost his head."

We have no doubt that the melancholy death of his comrade Giant
Blunderbore has seriously affected his