Although to have me back's your prayer-- I'm willing it should be-- You'd never breathe a word to spare Yourself, and stop me playing fair; You're braver far than me. So let your dear face twist a smile The way it used to do; And keep on cheery all the while, Rememb'ring hating's not your style-- Germans have mothers too. And when the work is through, and when I'm coming home to find The one who sent me out, ah! then I'll make you (bless you) laugh again, Old sweetheart left behind. * * * * * HIGH JINKS AT HAPPY-THOUGHT HALL. [_An inevitable article in any decent magazine at this time of the year. Read it carefully, and then have an uproarious time in your own little house._] IT was a merry party assembled at Happy-Thought Hall for Christmas. The Squire liked company, and the friends whom he had asked down for the festive season had all stayed at Happy-Thought Hall before, and were therefore well acquainted with each other. No wonder, then, that the wit flowed fast and furious, and that the guests all agreed afterwards that they had never spent such a jolly Christmas, and that the best of all possible hosts was Squire Tregarthen! But first we must introduce some of the Squire's guests to our readers. The Reverend Arthur Manley, a clever young clergyman with a taste for gardening, was talking in one corner to Miss Phipps, a pretty girl of some twenty summers. Captain Bolsover, a smart cavalry officer, together with Professor and Mrs. Smith-Smythe from Oxford, formed a small party in another corner. Handsome Jack Ellison was, as usual, in deep conversation with the beautiful Miss Holden, who, it was agreed among the ladies of the party, was not altogether indifferent to his fine figure and remarkable prospects. There were other guests, but as they chiefly played the part of audience in the events which followed their names will not be of any special interest to our readers. Suffice it to say that they were all intelligent, well-dressed and ready for any sort of fun. (Now, thank heaven, we can begin.) A burst of laughter from Captain Bolsover attracted general attention, and everybody turned in his direction. "By Jove, Professor, that's good," he said, as he slapped his knee; "you must tell the others that." "It was just a little incident that happened to me to-day as I was coming down here," said the Professor, as he beamed round on the company. "I happened to be rather late for my train, and as I bought my ticket I asked the clerk what time it was. He replied, 'If it takes six seconds for a clock to strike six, how long will it take to strike twelve?' I said twelve seconds, but it seems I was wrong." The others all said twelve seconds too, but they were all wrong. Can _you_ guess the right answer? Illustration: FIG. 1.--TO ILLUSTRATE THE PROFESSOR'S DELIGHTFUL STORY OF THE BOOKING-CLERK'S ANSWER.