The morning tea, the warmed copy of _The Times_ and _The Mail_ (only Lidbetter would ever have thought of warming them), the intimation that the bath (also of the right temperature) was ready--how should I be thus looked after without Lidbetter? And then the careful stropping of my razors. Without Lidbetter how could I get that done for me? Without him I am sure I should never change my neck-tie till it was worn out, or get new shirts until mustard and cress had begun to sprout on the cuffs of the old ones, or have a crease down my trousers like Mr. GERALD DU MAURIER, or go out with anything but a dusty overcoat and dustier hat. But with Lidbetter...! How do people get on without Lidbetters? I wondered. I suppose there are men who do not keep men and yet exist--men who can't say, "My man"? An odd experience. I wondered how old he was by now--Lidbetter. Difficult to tell the age of that type, so discreet and equable. He might be anything from thirty to fifty. And what was his other name? Curious how I had never ascertained that. I must ask him, or, better still, get him to witness something and sign his full name. My will, say. Talking of wills, perhaps I ought to leave Lidbetter something after such faithful service. Good old Lidbetter! Thus musing I walked home. The next morning I went to the shop and asked for the parcel. "You surely won't carry it yourself?" the shopkeeper said. "I would have sent it only I understood that your man would call." "I haven't got a man," I said. "I've never had one." "Pardon," he replied, and gave me the parcel. * * * * * [Illustration: COMMERCIAL CANDOUR AT THE SALES. "I ASSURE YOU, MADAM, THESE KITCHEN KNIVES REPRESENT THE GREATEST VALUE EVER OFFERED AT THE PRICE." "THEY CERTAINLY LOOK NICE AND SEEM VERY CHEAP. THE ONLY QUESTION IS--WILL THEY CUT?" "AH, MADAM, IF YOU ASK ME THAT, I'M BOUND TO SAY THEY WILL NOT; BUT THAT IS THEIR _ONE_ FAULT."] * * * * * "Two quite unique golf performances have been made on the Lutterworth course. The Rev. W. C. Stocks and Mr. F. Marriott were playing a round of eighteen holes last Friday, and at the third hole, which is an iron shot (145 yards), Mr. Marriott surprised himself and amazed his opponent by holing out with an iron. Then when they came to the eighth hole, which is 188 yards distance, the rev. gentleman went one better. Taking his brassey, he had the delightful experience of seeing his ball roll into the hole. Both shots were magnificently directed." _Market Harborough Advertiser._ We guessed at once that they must have been fairly straight. * * * * * THE YELLOW FURZE. (_A Tragedy in One Act, which may be played by the Abbey Theatre players without fee._) SCENE I.