be to haul on the rope and over would come the whole bag of tricks. Unfortunately something went wrong, and the rope, instead of neatly uncoiling, flailed round the trench like a young anaconda, and, catching a harmless spectator by the leg, hurled him twenty feet in the air. Immediately the opposition lines resounded like a rifle-booth at a country fair. However our spectator descended unpunctured, and the only damage done was to our vanity, when Mahomet threw over a message attached to a stone to ask whether we would repeat the performance as he and a pal had a bet on as to who was the best shot and wanted a human aeroplane to judge. But we have got a long way from Ibrahim. Ibrahim possessed the headpiece I am sending you. I could not think of a method for obtaining it, as his vigilance was deadly. However a bright thought struck me, and I assiduously saved up my rum ration for a month. Then one bitter cold night I tossed over the accumulation in a bottle wrapped up in an old sock. Presently there resounded in the still air a pleasant bubbling sound indicative of liquid being poured out of a glass receptacle, then a deep sigh, followed by a profound silence. Inch by inch I crawled over our barricade and slowly wormed my way along the ditch. At last I reached the Turkish barricade and cautiously slid my hand over the top until my fingers encountered Ibrahim's toque. Then I gave a gentle tug. Horror! he had the flap down under his chin. Unmanned for a moment I recovered, and I slowly slid my fingers down his hirsute neck and with a gentle titillation slid the flap clear. Ibrahim merely stirred in his sleep and resumed his slumbers. Triumphantly hugging the trophy to my bosom I crawled back to our barricade. The saddest part of the tale is yet to come. I had promised to procure you a trophy unstained by association with human slaughter, but when the day dawned there lay poor Ibrahim stiff and stark behind his barricade, killed by a cold in his head. * * * * * [Illustration: PANTOMIME ANNOUNCEMENTS.] * * * * * "Message Boy Wanted for Butchery." _Brechin Advertiser._ A lot of people are after that boy. * * * * * "Taxi driver who laid down Fare at Royal Hotel at 2.45 p.m. on Christmas Day, would oblige by returning Gent's Umbrella to Hotel." _Aberdeen Journal._ We gather that it had been a wet morning. * * * * * [Illustration: _Cyril_ (_eating his bread-and-jam--with not too much jam_). "This is prepostrous--this war economy."] * * * * * HUNTIN' WEATHER. There's a dog-fox down in Lannigan's spinney (And Lannigan's wife has hens to mourn); The hunters stamp in their stalls an' whinny, Soft with leisure an' fat with corn.