Two nights later we had a scare. Every light went out along the road and people were doing all kinds of safe things. It turned out afterwards that Stewart was testing his family Zeppelin drill, and fired three shots to make it realistic. His wife then put the baby in the copper with the lid one inch open. She herself stood beside a certain wall which, according to Stewart, could not be knocked down because of the stresses and strains that would be set up. That was all very well for him; the only thing that went wrong was that a little water had been left in the copper. But what about poor Johnson, who had to pile all the mattresses in the coal-cellar? He was awfully black and angry when he found out. And what about Carruthers, who emptied a fire-pail on the drawing-room fire, and had to explain a long muddy pool to his wife, who is rather deaf and hadn't heard the shots? As for Bulpitt's wife's mother, she was in the pit for over an hour before we hauled her out. The first time we got her to the surface she gasped out, quite smilingly, "Now I know what it's like in the tren----" and then she slipped back with an oozy thud. The second time she said, "I don't think they'll come ag----" The third time she said, "I don't care if the Zeppel----" And when we did get her out she said nothing at all, and I was sorry for Bulpitt. Amidst all these scenes of confusion little Miss Agatha at No. 4 stood at attention in a fur overcoat and a big pair of boots that would easily slip on, with a coal-scuttle on her head to keep off bombs. She stood there warm, safe, and respectably clad, waiting till the house crashed about her and the time came to save herself. I hate to think of the Zeppelins coming; but if they do come I hope--how I hope!--I shall be near No. 4 to see the indomitable little lady emerge. * * * * * TEMPORA MUTANTUR. In WALPOLE'S time, not over nice, Each man was said to have his price; We've changed since then; For, if my daughter's word is fact, The world to-day is simply packed With "priceless" men. * * * * * Journalistic Candour. "When a court-martial was opened for the trial of two sergeants at Woolwich yesterday one of the officers questioned the right of a reporter to be present.... The reporter was told to leave, which he did, after protesting that an official shorthand note was an entirely different thing from a newspaper report."--_Daily Chronicle._ * * * * * A LETTER TO THE FRONT. Mrs. Jeremy looked up from her knitting. "I want you to do something for me," she said to her husband. "Anything except sing," said Jeremy lazily. "It's just to write a letter." "My dear, of course. _The Complete Letter-writer_, by J. P. Smith. Chapter V--'Stiff Notes to Landlords'--shows Mr. Smith at his best. 'Gossipy Budgets, and should they be crossed?'--see Chapter VI. Bless you, I can write to _anybody._"