nt,
the German officer, the attempted bribe, the execution. When the
last grim lines of the imaginary history had been translated for him,
Pumpenheim felt some observation on his part to be called for.

"So-o?" he said, "so-o?"

But I heard incredulity in his voice. Blenkin read it in his face. The
prisoner did not believe a word of the tale. He was indifferent to the
homily.

Blenkin, defeated, leaned back in his chair. "I give it up," he said.
"You have a try at him."

I looked at Pumpenheim. His narrow eyes turned to me.

"If you had offered the money to a German officer," I said, and the
interpreter repeated the words--"if you had offered the money to a
German officer he--might--have--taken--it."

Slowly a look of comprehension crossed the face of Adolf Hans
Pumpenheim. It was like sunrise upon his grey and stubbly countenance,
where three days' growth of beard had thriven in the soil of the
guard-room. He was not altogether happy, for he had been found
guilty and had paid a fine. But in the course of this ceremony, which
appeared to him mystical and obscure, he had encountered one familiar
idea, one thought within his power of understanding. Rectitude was
a stranger to him, but corruption an old friend: He was not abashed;
rather, on the contrary, he was cheered and encouraged. I could see
that his heart warmed to me in particular, and I believe that but for
his respect for the Court he would have paid me the compliment of a
wink.

"Let him go," said Blenkin; and the Court adjourned for lunch.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "SETTLED PEACE! I TELL YOU THERE'S NO SUCH THING.
I BURIED THE HATCHET WITH MY STEP-MOTHER AFTER TEN YEARS, AND NEXT
MORNING SHE WROTE, 'I'M GLAD YOU'VE SEEN THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS.'"]

"At Newcastle, this afternoon, the airmen, had a great
reception. The Lord Mayor handed each a book of views of
Newcastle and a box of cigarettes."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.

Who says England is not a land for heroes to live in?

* * * * *

THE EDITOR REGRETS.

A few weeks ago there appeared in _Punch_, under the title "A Germless
Eden," some verses sent in by an unknown contributor. The Editor is
now informed that the original version of these lines was the work
of Mr. ARTHUR GUITERMAN, of New York, who published them in 1915 with
Messrs. HARPER AND BROTHERS in _The Laughing Muse,_ a collection of
his humorous verse. The Editor