IES,--Art cannot be forced. Nor can
Fame. May I beg you for the future to confine your
exertions to blowing my trumpet--or Fame's--with
your natural voices? Editors may be led, but they
won't be druv. The Right Honourable Miss
Etheltruda Bustler seems to have aroused a deep
pity for me in my Editor's heart. Let that
suffice. And for the future permit me, as firmly
as affectionately, to reiterate the assurance and
the advice which I have so often breathed in your
long young ears, '_I am not ungrateful; but I do
wish you would mind your own business._'"

"That's just because we were found out," said Alice. "If we'd succeeded
he'd have been sitting on the top of the pinnacle of Fame, and he would
have owed it all to us. That would have been making him something like a
wedding present."

What we had really done was to make something very like----but the
author is sure he has said enough.

_THE FLYING LODGER_

FATHER knows a man called Eustace Sandal. I do not know how to express
his inside soul, but I have heard Father say he means well. He is a
vegetarian and a Primitive Social Something, and an all-wooler, and
things like that, and he is really as good as he can stick, only most
awfully dull. I believe he eats bread and milk from choice. Well, he has
great magnificent dreams about all the things you can do for other
people, and he wants to distill cultivatedness into the sort of people
who live in Model Workmen's Dwellings, and teach them to live up to
better things. This is what he says. So he gives concerts in Camberwell,
and places like that, and curates come from far and near, to sing about
Bold Bandaleros and the Song of the Bow, and people who have escaped
being curates give comic recitings, and he is sure that it does every
one good, and "gives them glimpses of the Life Beautiful." He said that.
Oswald heard him with his own trustworthy ears. Anyway the people enjoy
the concerts no end, and that's the great thing.

Well, he came one night, with a lot of tickets he wanted to sell, and
Father bought some for the servants, and Dora happened to go in to get
the gum for a kite we were making, and Mr. Sandal said, "Well, my little
maiden, would you not like to come on Thursday evening, and share in the
task of raising our poor brothers and sisters to the higher levels of
culture?" So of course Dora