, it made a complete
tour of the table and concluded its meteoric career in the bottom
right-hand pocket. Meanwhile the red and the white had both departed on
voyages of their own, the terminus in each case being the self-same pocket.
(_See diagram._) After the balls had been taken out, examined and counted,
and James's person had been searched to see if he were concealing any, the
marker pronounced this to be a 10-shot, and the game was thus strikingly
ended in James's favour.

* * * * *

[Illustration: BEHIND THE SCENES IN CINEMA-LAND.

"HOP IT, LEANDER! THE HELLESPONT'S DOWN AT THE OTHER END OF THE TANK. THIS
END'S 'FUN AT FLOUNDER BEACH.'"]

* * * * *

COMMERCIAL CANDOUR.

"The Great Song of a Britisher is--
'There's No Place Like Home.'
STAY AT ----'S HOTEL,
And you'll Sing it and Realise it."--_South African Paper._

"The mere selling of an article is a simple matter, but keeping the
customer sold is our principal aim."--_Advt. in West Indian Paper._

* * * * *

[Illustration: _First Novice._ "WOULD YOU MIND MY PASSING, PLEASE?"

_Second ditto._ "NOT AT ALL--NOT AT ALL--IF YOU DON'T MIND USING ME AS THE
HANDRAIL."]

* * * * *

MY DEBUT IN "PUNCH."

I am, I hope, decently modest. When I said so once to Margery she remarked
that there was no need to make a virtue of necessity. But younger sisters,
of course...

I came down to breakfast at my usual time--as the others were finishing--
and found a letter awaiting me. I opened it under the usual fire of insults
from Margery and John. To-day I ignored them, however, and my young heart
gave a small jump. I am a modest young man.

"What's the matter with you, little Sunbeam?" asked John (he is Cecilia's
husband, through no fault of mine). "Is the tailor more rude than usual, or
has she found out your address?"

"The Vicar has asked him to sing at the Band of Hope," suggested Margery.

I commenced my breakfast.

"What is it, Alan?" asked Cecilia.

"Oh, nothing," I said easily. "The proof of a thing of mine that _Punch_
has accepted."

They hadn't a word to say for a few seconds, then Margery began:--

"Poor old dear, it must be some awful mistake."

I ignored Margery.

"But, Alan darling, how beautiful! You've been trying for years and years
and now at last it has happened. I _do_ hope it isn't a