"I'm going to give you a mental prescription," he said, taking out a pencil and scribbling on an envelope. "Have you read this--LUDOVICI'S _Who is to be Master of the World_?" "No, I haven't," I said; "but I can tell you who isn't going to be--in once." "The Japanese," said Arthur, "think a lot of it." "I've got a pal," I said, "who'd dearly enjoy a few rounds of mental jiu-jitsu with you. He's got rather advanced ideas." "Advanced!" said Arthur contemptuously. "We Nietzscheans speak only of being 'complete' or 'nearer completion.'" It was at this point that Alfred joined in. He was sitting in uniform on the other side of the fire, reading _Ruff's Guide_. "Who's that talking about poor old LUDOVICI?" he asked. For a moment I was afraid Alfred thought that LUDOVICI was a horse. "I was recommending him to this shining light of the Burlington House brigade," said Arthur. Alfred laughed. "Look here, young fellow," he said, "everybody knows that he (pointing to me) is an antediluvian; but you've gone a bit off the boil yourself, haven't you?" "What do you mean?" said Arthur, looking rather pained. "Many Continental theories," said Alfred, "when they die, go to Oxford. I'm afraid your friend LUDOVICI'S theory has been sent down even from there. Have you read Barrow's _Fallacy of the Nietzschean doctrine_?" "N-no," said Arthur. "Or Erichsen's _Completion of Self?_ You can get the paper edition for a bob." "I'm sorry to say I haven't," said Arthur, who looked sadly chap-fallen. "But I will. However, for the moment I've got a meeting on--our literary club, you know." "I'm coming round to raid you one night," I said, "to see if you're all registered." For reply Arthur slammed the door behind him. "Alfred," I said, when Arthur had left the house, "you astound me. Who are these new friends and their philosophies, Barrow and the Danish fellow, what's his name?" "Mere inventions," said Alfred, "but they served." "Then the fat's in the fire," I said; "he'll find out that you've been pulling his leg before lunch-time to-morrow." "That's all right," said Alfred. "Our lot's booked for Pirbright to-morrow morning, and we shan't meet again till the other side of Peace." * * * * * Illustration: AN ECHO FROM EAST AFRICA. _Sentry_ (_until lately behind the counter in Nairobi, to person approaching post_). "HALT! ADVANCE ONE, AND SIGN THE COUNTERFOIL!" * * * * * Illustration: THE CHILDREN'S TRUCE. PEACE. "I'M GLAD THAT THEY, AT LEAST, HAVE THEIR CHRISTMAS UNSPOILED." * * * * * THE PRIZE. With ivy wreathed, a hundred lights Shone out; the Convent play was finished; The waning term this night of nights To a few golden hours diminished. Again the curtain rose. Outshone The childish frocks and childish tresses Of the late cast that had put on Demureness and its party dresses.