Nothing would induce little Miss Banks to leave the house in the morning without seeing what the cards promised her, and so open and impressionable are her mind and heart that she is still interested in the colour of the romantic fellow whom the day, if kind, is to fling across her path. The cards, as you know, are great on colours, all men being divided into three groups: dark (which has the preference), fair, and middling. Similarly for you, if you can get little Miss Banks to read your fate (but you must of course shuffle the pack yourself) there are but three kinds of charmers: dark (again the most fascinating and to be desired), fair, and middling. It is great fun to watch little Miss Banks at her necromancy. She takes it so earnestly, literally wrenching the future's secrets from their lair. "A letter is coming to you from some one," she says. "An important letter." And again, "I see a voyage over water." Or very seriously, "There's a death." You gasp. "No, it's not yours. A fair woman's." You laugh. "Only a fair woman's!" you say. "Go on." But the cards have not only ambiguities, but strange reticences. "Oh," little Miss Banks will say, her eyes large with excitement, "there's a payment of money and a dark man." "Good," you say. "But I can't tell," she goes on, "whether you pay it to him or he pays it to you." "That's a nice state of things," you say, becoming indignant. "Surely you can tell." "No, I can't." You begin to go over your dark acquaintances who might owe you money, and can think of none. You then think of your dark acquaintances to whom you owe money, and are horrified at their number. "Oh, well," you say, "the whole thing's rubbish, anyway." Little Miss Banks's eyes dilate with pained astonishment. "Rubbish!"--and she begins to shuffle again. * * * * * [Illustration: _Tommy_ (_dictating letter to be sent to his wife_). "The nurses here are a very plain lot--" _Nurse._ "Oh, come! I say! That's not very polite to us." _Tommy._ "Never mind, Nurse, put it down. It'll please her!"] * * * * * From "Notes for the Use of New Chaplains," by an Indian Archdeacon: "I have only given advice on matters where, to my own knowledge, an ignorance of procedure has led to adverse criticism with regard to breeches of etiquette." Somebody seems to have been making fun of the venerable gentleman's continuations. * * * * * UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. No. XXXIII. (_From Theodore Roosevelt, U.S.A._)