I shall not describe all his famous _coups_ at Mexico. Sufficient to say that experience taught him quickly all that he had need to learn; and that whereas he was more than a week late with his cabled account of the first engagement of the war he was frequently more than a week early afterwards. Indeed the battle of Parson's Nose, so realistically described in his last telegram, is still waiting to be fought. It is to be hoped that it will be in time for his aptly-named book, _With the Mexicans in Mexico_, which is coming out next month. On his return to England Harold found that time had wrought many changes. To begin with, the editor of _The Evening Surprise_ had passed on to _The Morning Exclamation_. "You had better take his place," said the ducal proprietor to Harold. "Right," said Harold. "I suppose I shall have to resign my post at the office?" "Just as you like. I don't see why you should." "I should miss the cricket," said Harold wistfully, "and the salary. I'll go round see what I can arrange." But there were also changes at the office. Harold had been rising steadily in salary and seniority during his absence, and he found to his delight that he was now a Principal Clerk. He found too that he had acquired quite a reputation in the office for quickness and efficiency in his new work. The first thing to arrange about was his holiday. He had had no holiday for more than a year, and there were some eight weeks owing to him. "Hullo," said the Assistant Secretary as Harold came in, "you're looking well. I suppose you can manage to get away for the week-ends?" "I've been away on sick leave for some time," said Harold pathetically. "Have you? You've kept it very secret. Come out and have lunch with me, and we'll do a _matinée_ afterwards." Harold went out with him happily. It would be pleasant to accept the editorship of _The Evening Surprise_ without giving up the Governmental work which was so dear to him, and the Assistant Secretary's words made this possible, for a year or so anyhow. Then, when his absence from the office began to be noticed, it would be time to think of retiring on an adequate pension. L. THE ACTOR Mr. Levinski, the famous actor-manager, dragged himself from beneath the car, took the snow out of his mouth, and swore heartily. Mortal men are liable to motor accidents; even king's cars have backfired; but it seems strange that actor-managers are not specially exempt from these occurrences. Mr. Levinski was not only angry; he was also a little shocked. When an actor-manager has to walk two miles to the nearest town on a winter evening, one may be pardoned a doubt as to whether all is quite right with the world.