"Not at all," I said gruffly. "But your paper's upside down." "Yes. I always read papers upside down. I'm ambidextrous." Ten seconds more silence. "What do you think of this weather we're having?" "Nothing," I said curtly. I gave up the paper in despair and looked hard out of the window. I knew the man was staring at me and compassing a new attack. He leant over at last. "Now, what are your views on Ulster?" I couldn't say "Nothing" again; but, even so, I retained some presence of mind. "I am a convinced Home Ruler, and I never argue," I snapped. "I happen to have gone into the question pretty thoroughly," he began. About ten minutes later he stopped talking and looked at me triumphantly. "Now, what answer have you to that?" he said. "None," I admitted. "But you said----" "I'm a convinced Anti-Home Ruler." "But just now you said----" "I know. But you've convinced me." He snorted violently and relapsed into a moody silence until the other man awoke at Finsbury Park. * * * * * The Vicar of St. John's, Carlisle (_The Carlisle Journal_ tells us), in moving the adoption of the past year's accounts, said:-- "About L9 was saved through not paying the choir-boys, and the result had been most satisfactory." The note of satisfaction in the choir-boys' voices is said to be very touching. * * * * * THE SLUGGARD. My Uncle James, whose memoirs I am now preparing for publication, was a many-sided man; but his chief characteristic, I am inclined to think, was the indomitable resolution with which, disregarding hints, entreaties and even direct abuse, he would lie in bed of a morning. I have seen the domestic staff of his hostess day after day manoeuvring restlessly in the passage outside his room, doing all those things which women do who wish to rout a man out of bed without moving Uncle James an inch. Footsteps might patter outside his door; voices might call one to the other; knuckles might rap the panels; relays of shaving-water might be dumped on his wash-stand; but devil a bit would Uncle James budge, till finally the enemy, giving in, would bring him his breakfast in bed. Then, after a leisurely cigar, he would at last rise and, having dressed himself with care, come downstairs and be the ray of sunshine about the home. For many years I was accustomed to look on Uncle James as a mere sluggard. I pictured ants raising their antennae scornfully at the sight of him. I was to learn that not sloth but a deep purpose dictated his movements, or his lack of movement.