issed him, to his great regret.
America was still feeling the loss of MARK TWAIN. By the way, that was a
good story which MARK TWAIN used to tell against himself. A visitor----

But this time I was too clever for him. I gave a preconcerted signal to
a waiter, who hurried up to tell me I was wanted on the telephone. When
I returned it was to say good-bye.

And now I am safe till next summer; but last evening I met a lady who
had been taken in to dinner by the American a few days ago. "A little
bit pompous, perhaps," she said, "but he told me such a delightful story
about MARK TWAIN that I should like to meet him again."

* * * * *

Illustration: _Passenger._ "IT'S CURIOUS HOW THESE SEAGULLS FOLLOW A
STEAMER. DO THEY GO FAR?"

_Boatman._ "AY, SOMETIMES, BUT THEY'LL NOT FOLLOW HER FAR; SHE'S AN
ABERDEEN BOAT."

* * * * *

The Latest from the Schoolroom.

_Q._ (_put orally_). "Where do the following races live? Berbers,
Hottentots....

_A._ Barbers are to be found in large towns, but they are also found
in some small places. They are the natives of the country, and their
profession is to shave different men, for which they are paid. The
Wottentots are animals that are found in the forests of England."

* * * * *

Illustration: _Seventy-miles-an-hour_ (_as he hurtles past
sixty-miles-an-hour_). "ARE YOU AWARE, SIR, THAT YOU _SLOW-MOVING_
VEHICLES OUGHT TO KEEP CLOSE TO THE KERB?"

* * * * *

COCOANUTS.

(_A Bank Holiday Idyll._)

Sing me, I said, O Muse, and sound the trump
For him not least among our noble tars
Who first on tropic isle was made to jump
By reason of a pericranial thump
And prospect of a galaxy of stars.

And there in green retreat by coral chained
Beheld the vision of the fibrous nut,
And drank the nectar that its shell contained,
And knew the goal accomplished and disdained
The nasty skin-wound on his occiput.

He did not see the feathered palm-trees wave;
He did not see the beckoning yams beneath;
The turtle moaning for its soupy grave,
The sound of oysters asking for a shave
He heard not--he was back on Hampstead Heath.

For him no more the ocean seemed to croon
Its endless legend to the listless sands;
He walked abroad upon an English noon,
And "Ah!" he murmured, "what a heavenly boon