ction; we
asked him if that was not so, and he answered, "Why, of course." Had
we any fault to find with his protege, the admirable halfpenny daily?
We had noticed that its news was punctual and exact. Then of what did
we complain?

"Of a certain exaggeration in the leading articles," said I, rubbing
the back of my neck and wondering how long it would be there to rub
and I to rub it.

"But what newspaper leaders are not exaggerated?" he asked.

"Your editors should not be paid to twist everything into an
irritant," I protested.

"Of which of your great English dailies is the editor not paid to
twist, as you put it?" he asked.

I knew that I had right on my side and he had not. But still somehow I
seemed to be in the wrong all the way.

So my friend took the matter in hand. He didn't argue. He just drew
his chair up to the Master's and asked him to tell us all about
himself, how he came by his great ideals, what was the future of the
world as he foresaw it and how he meant to arrange the universe when
at length he took over?

The Master, gently smiling his appreciation of this recognition of his
Ego, gave voice.

To the lady it was all, of course, above criticism: sublime, adorable.
To me the frankness of it and the impudence of it was, I confess,
amusing.

The world is out of joint; how good 'twill be
When Heaven is sacked and leaves the job to me!

An agreeable, if wrong-headed, crank, was my summary.

And this or something like it was my friend's:--"b. U.S.A. of Eng.
parents, 9.5.78; tinned meat business, Chicago; 6 months' h.l. for
frauds in connection with packing; went to Mexico, but left to avoid
prosecution for similar frauds on larger scale; prison in Belgium,
France and England in connection with illegal dealings in rifles
(? for Germany); apparently liable to more prison in U.S.A. for crime
unknown, if returns there; won't say where he gets his money from, but
doesn't seriously pretend it is his own."

And when I came to go back over the Master's two hours' chat about
himself, those are about the facts it all boiled down to.

Yours ever, HENRY.

(_To be continued._)

* * * * *

"L40.--Handsome Black Silk Golf Goat (large size)."--_Irish Paper_.

The very thing for the butting-green.

* * * * *

[Illustration: NIL DESPERANDUM.

_The Amateur Championship_. MR. POTT-HUNTER, WHO FAILED TO SURVIVE THE