Mr. WM. LE QUEUX said that he owned an autograph portrait of the KAISER. It was signed "Yours with the belt, BILL." The speaker would sell it on behalf of the War Funds and humbly apologised to his brother authors for having knocked about so much in his youth with emperors and persons of that kind. It should not occur again. He pointed out that he had foretold this War, and that his famous book, _The Great War_ of--whenever it was--was to be brought up to date in the form of ---- (Deleted by Chairman). At this juncture it was brought to the Chairman's notice that Mr. H. G. WELLS was missing. An anxious search revealed the fact that the ornamental sword and plumed casque of the Military Member of the Invasion Committee of the Thorpe-le-Soken Division of Essex had disappeared at the same time, and the meeting broke up in disorder. * * * * * Illustration: THE SUPREME TEST. _The Civilian._ "I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU DO IT. FANCY MARCHIN' THIRTY MILES WITH THE RIFLE, AND THAT PACK ON YER BACK!" _The Tommy_. "YES, AND MIND YOU--IT'S TIPPERARY ALL THE WAY!" * * * * * Our Sporting Press Again. "Sporting rifles have been bought in Paris for pheasant-shooting."--_Daily News._ * * * * * THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT. I was sitting in front of the fire--dozing, I daresay--when he was announced. "Father Christmas." He came in awkwardly and shook me by the hand. "Forgive my unceremonious entry," he said. "I know I ought to have come down the chimney, but--well, _you_ understand." "Things are different this year," I suggested. "Very different," he said gloomily. He put his sack down and took a seat on the other side of the fire-place. "Anything for me?" I wondered, with an eye on the sack between us. "Ah, there's no difference _there_," he said, brightening up as he drew out a big flat parcel. "The blotter from Aunt Emily. You needn't open it now; it's exactly the same as last year's." I had been prepared for it. I took a letter from my pocket and dropped it in the sack. "My letter of thanks for it," I explained. "Exactly the same as last year's too." Father Christmas sighed and gazed into the fire. "All the same," he said at last, "it's different, even with your Aunt Emily." "Tell me all about it. To begin with, why didn't you come down the chimney?" "The reindeer." He threw up his hands in despair. "Gone!" "How?" "Filleted." I looked at him in surprise. "Or do I mean 'billeted'?" he said. "Anyway, the War Office did it." "Requisitioned, perhaps." "That's it. They requisitioned 'em. What you and I would call taking 'em." "I see. So you have to walk. But you could still come down the chimney." "Well, I _could_; but it would mean climbing up there first. And that wouldn't seem so natural. It would make it more like a practical joke, and I haven't the heart for practical jokes this year, when nobody really wants me at all."