from a grandfather's clock
as the KAISER was handing the CROWN PRINCE some immensely important
documents, snatched them, stole an aeroplane, bombed a Zeppelin or two
on his homeward way, and landed exhausted at Lord KITCHENER'S feet. Here
came the change. Instead of opening the parcel to discover the plans of
the German staff, the WAR SECRETARY found in his hand this document:--

"Sausage Prices in Berlin: Pork Sausage, 3 marks 80 pf.; Horse Sausage,
3 marks 45 pf.; Dog Sausage, 2 marks 95 pf. Gott mit uns.--WILHELM."

I sent the three romances to Clibbers and waited his reply with anxiety.
It came promptly and as follows:--"Are you mad?--CLIBBERS."

Instantly I sent him the first versions of these magnificent fictions.
He phoned me at once, "That's the kind of novelty I want. Send me some
more."

You will see "Retrieved," "The Funk," and "Secret Service" in the
magazines shortly. Don't trouble if the titles differ. After all, there
are only three genuine War story plots.

* * * * *

MORE STORIES OF OLD LONDON.

(With acknowledgments to "_The Evening News_.")

Mr. George Washington Turpin, Islington, writes:--

"I wonder if Mr. G. R. Sims remembers a curious horsey character
known as John Gilpin, who rode in state one day from his home in
the City to the Bell at Edmonton. I shall never forget the crowd
that assembled to see him pass through Islington. It's quite a
while ago and my memory is not so clear as it might be, but
being a bit of a road-hog he missed the Bell and went on to York
or somewhere."

* * * * *

DUAL CONTROL.

[Illustration: "A KIND OF A GIDDY HARUMFRODITE--SOLDIER AN' SAILOR TOO."

_Rudyard Kipling_.

"Sir PERCY SCOTT has not quite left the Admiralty and has not quite
joined the War Office."--_Mr. ELLIS GRIFFITH, in the House_. Since this
remark Lord KITCHENER, has announced that the Admiral is to act as
expert adviser to Field-Marshal Lord FRENCH, who is taking over the
responsibility for home defence against aircraft.]

* * * * *

THE SIMMERERS.

"I shall never shake it off," said Francesca. It was six o'clock and she
had just come in from having tea with some friends.

"Shake what off?" I said.

"My Cimmerian gloom," she said. "Haven't you noticed it?"

"No," I said, "I can't say I have. Perhaps if you stood with your back
to the light--yes, there's just