When we had succeeded in persuading the soldier who was posted to guard our hotel that we were not the proletariat and might safely be let pass, we found a gathering of inside-knowledge people discussing the situation. The Government ought to have known all about it long before--how the Bolshevists were stirring up trouble. "They did," said we; "we told them." There was a silence at this, but a smile on the face of the audience which we at first mistook for incredulity. We referred darkly to our private information, derived, as I told you in my last, from the Italian juggler. "Did he do juggling tricks with _your_ ink-pots too?" asked the French element. "How much money did _you_ give him?" asked all the other elements. "And I suppose he also told you," said the Italian officer, "that he had no confidence in his own people and that the British alone enjoyed his respect?" At this moment the Americans came in and asked us to quit arguing and attend while they told us how they had unearthed the great plot.... When together we reckoned up the Italian juggler's net takings we realised that it is an ill revolution which brings no one any good. Yours ever, HENRY. (_To be continued._) * * * * * CUBBIN' THRO' THE RYE. [Suggested by a recently reported incident in the Midlands, when a pack divided, one part getting out of hand and running among standing crops.] Gin a body meet a body Cubbin' thro' the rye, Gin a body tell a body, "Seed 'em in full cry," Useless then to blame the puppies, Useless too to lie; Whippers-in can't _always_ stop 'em, Even when they try. Gin a body meet a body Cubbin' thro' the rye, What a body calls a body Dare I say?--not I; Farmers get distinctly stuffy, Neither are they shy, And Masters, when they're really rattled, Sometimes make reply. * * * * * BRAVE NEWS FOR PUSSYFOOT. "A good many Church-people at home have been pressing teetotalism, and are now pressing Prohibition, and it is possible that they may succeed about the time when the moon grows cold."--_Weekly Paper._ * * * * * [Illustration: THE MAN YOU GIVE A GAME TO.] * * * * * [Illustration: "RIGHT-O. IF YER WANTS A FIGHT I'M READY. AN' AS WE'VE ONLY ONE PAIR O' GLOVES, AN' YOU'RE THE YOUNGEST, I'LL BE A SPORT AN' LET YOU WEAR 'EM."] * * * * * THE MYSTERY OF THE APPLE-PIE BEDS. (_Leaves from a holiday diary._) I. An outrage has occurred in the hotel. Late on Monday night ten innocent visitors discovered themselves the possessors of apple-pie beds. The beds were not of the offensive hair-brush variety, but they were very cleverly constructed, the under-sheet being pulled up in the good old way and turned over at the top as if it were the top-sheet.