"My Favourite Logarithm," by Mr. T. P. O'CONNOR. "Logs I have Rolled," by Mr. C. K. SHORTER. "The Logarithm at the Olympic Games," by Mr. THEODORE ANDREA COOK. "The Logarithm in the Home," by Mr. GORDON SELFRIDGE. "The Logarithm in the Nursery," by "Aunt Louisa" (of _Tips for Tots_). "Logs and the Higher Criticism," by Sir Oliver Log. "Logarithms and the Hire System," by Lord Catesby of Droll. "The Paradox of Logarithms," by Mr. G. K. CHESTERTON. "Logarithms and the Animal World," by the Editor of _The Spectator_. Mr. JOHN MASEFIELD will recite a poem, entitled "The Log of the Widow's Cruise." An interesting contrast to the flood of eulogy will be supplied by Sir ALMROTH WRIGHT, who, taking the view that the simplicity with which logarithms can be handled is leading the nation inevitably towards mental atrophy, will introduce the question, "The Logarithm: is it a Public Menace?" The programme will conclude with a costume ball, at which everybody present will be disguised as a different logarithm. * * * * * THE WAY OUT. I carefully searched through all my pockets for the third time. "Smithers," I said, "I have lost my railway ticket." "Not really?" replied Smithers, scarcely looking up from his newspaper. "Have another look." I had another look. I looked in my hat-band, in the turned-up bottoms of my trousers, and in the hole in my handkerchief. "No," I said firmly, "it's gone!" "Extraordinary thing!" "I have no doubt," I continued, "that the railway company are in some way to blame for it, but for the moment I cannot quite fix the responsibility. Let us view the matter bravely. We are now within a few miles of our destination; in a short time we shall be asked to produce our tickets; what are we to do?" "I shall give mine up." "Smithers," I said; "there is a selfish callousness about your reply which I do not like. A crisis in the life of another evidently does not move you." "You can, I presume, pay again?" "No," I said, "I have an absurd prejudice against paying twice for the same thing; I inherit it from a great-aunt on my mother's side." "Then you'd better explain to the ticket-collector." "Explanations are a sign of mental and moral weakness." "Well, I've nothing more to suggest. You'll have to pay again." "I shall not pay again," I replied, taking the paper gently from him. "I am a man and an Englishman; and Englishmen are not to be intimidated." "Do you think," I continued, "that you could hold the collector in conversation while I glide imperceptibly from the precincts of the station?" "I'm perfectly sure I couldn't." "I was afraid not," I said sadly; "that would require imagination, tact, pluck, adroitness, in all of which commodities, my dear Smithers---- Well, no doubt it's a good thing nature doesn't mould us all alike." "No doubt, else your handicap would not be 16, while mine is scratch."