ly by mechanic chance,
I get this handkerchief marked "Maud."

This is, indeed, a striking change;
I sometimes wonder if the world
Gets better as the skies grow strange
With coils of smoke about them curled.

If the old days were not the best
Ere printed formulas conveyed
Sorrow about that silken vest
For all eternity mislaid;

Ere yet the unwieldy motor-van
Came clattering round the kerbstone's brink,
Its driver dreaming some new plan
To make my mauve pyjamas shrink.

Evoe.

* * * * *

THE ENCHANTED CASTLE.

There are warm days in London when even a window-box fails to charm, and
one longs for the more open spaces of the country. Besides, one wants to
see how the other flowers are getting on. It is on these days that we
travel to our Castle of Stopes; as the crow flies, fifteen miles away.
Indeed, that is the way we get to it, for it is a castle in the air. And
when we are come to it Celia is always in a pink sun-bonnet gathering
roses lovingly, and I, not very far off, am speaking strongly to
somebody or other about something I want done. By-and-by I shall go into
the library and work ... with an occasional glance through the open
window at Celia.

To think that a month ago we were quite happy with a few pink geraniums!

Sunday, a month ago, was hot. "Let's take train somewhere," said Celia,
"and have lunch under a hedge."

"I know a lovely place for hedges," I said.

"I know a lovely tin of potted grouse," said Celia, and she went off to
cut some sandwiches. By twelve o'clock we were getting out of the train.

The first thing we came to was a golf course, and Celia had to drag me
past it. Then we came to a wood, and I had to drag her through it.
Another mile along a lane, and then we both stopped together.

"Oh!" we said.

It was a cottage, the cottage of a dream. And by a cottage I mean, not
four plain rooms and a kitchen, but one surprising room opening into
another; rooms all on different levels and of different shapes, with
delightful places to bump your head on; open fireplaces; a large square
hall, oak-beamed, where your guests can hang about after breakfast,
while deciding whether to play golf or sit in the garden. Yet all so
cunningly disposed that from outside it looks only a cottage or, at
most, two cottages persuaded into one.

And, of course, we only saw it from outside. The little drive,
determined to get there