her boys putting sheet after sheet together, and he had
hardly filled one. He racked his brains for something to add to his
essay, and there came to his mind the words written under his father's
portrait. He had only time to put down "England expecs----" when his
paper was collected.

No one ever read Tommy Brown's essay excepting Mr. Smith, and he burnt
it.

* * * * *

A lady teaches Form II. now, and Tommy Brown is eagerly looking forward
to the day when Mr. Smith will return to occupy once more the post that
is being kept open for him, for Mr. Smith has promised to bring Tommy
home a German helmet.

* * * * *

"A number of shells burst together and almost at the same moment he
saw a large cigar-shaped cigar fall to the earth."

_Bolton Evening News._

The unusual shape of it struck him at once.

* * * * *

Illustration: THE GREATER GAME.

MR. PUNCH (_to Professional Association Player_). "NO DOUBT YOU CAN MAKE
MONEY IN THIS FIELD, MY FRIEND, BUT THERE'S ONLY ONE FIELD TO-DAY WHERE
YOU CAN GET HONOUR."

[The Council of the Football Association apparently proposes to carry
out the full programme of the Cup Competition, just as if the country
did not need the services of all its athletes for the serious business
of War.]

* * * * *

THE SUNDAY EVENING EDITION.

Mrs. Henry looked up. "I think I hear that boy again selling evening
papers," she said. "I suppose they must come off the 9.5 train. But it's
a strange thing to happen on a Sunday--here."

The Reverend Henry was already at the window. He threw it up and leaned
out.

"One can't approve of it, but I suppose in war time--" Mrs. Henry was
beginning when her husband cut her short. "Hush--I'm trying to hear what
he is saying. I wish boys could be taught to speak distinctly." There
was a pause.

"I can't make him out." The Reverend Henry's head reappeared between the
curtains. "It's really most exasperating; I'd give a lot to know if the
Belgian army got out of Antwerp before it fell."

"Couldn't you shout down and ask him?"

"No, no. I cannot be discovered interrogating urchins about secular
affairs from a second storey window on Sunday evening. Still, I'd like
to know."

The Reverend Henry perambulated the room with knitted brow.

"I never bought a Sunday paper of any sort in my life. Never."

"I suppose