At this moment the Captain approached me with an object in his hand. "You neutrals," he said, "have been deceived before now by the ridiculous reports disseminated by our enemies as to the results of these raids. But here is the proof." He then explained to me that to every Zeppelin was attached a large sinker or plummet, which was covered with grease and lowered from a drum to a few yards above the spot where the bomb was destined to fall. To this plummet adhered fragments of various objects, animate or other, which the explosion of the missile hurled into the air. Such a fragment the Captain was now extending for my observation. I admitted that to my uninitiated eye it closely resembled a portion of the outer surface of a cow or some kindred animal. "You are indeed ignorant," said my host, smiling in the same enigmatic way. "The object is undoubtedly a fragment of the propeller shaft of a large vessel, which satisfies me that at Swanage, where our last bomb was dropped, a portion of the High Seas Fleet was anchored. And as a matter of fact," he added, producing a small dark object from his pocket, "here is a part of Sir JOHN JELLICOE'S necktie. Notice how precisely it tallies with the descriptions furnished by our secret agents, one of whom is actually engaged about the Admiral's person disguised as a pastry-cook." Here, then, was the proof. One could not doubt the evidence of one's senses. But mine had been subjected to an unusual test that night, and when the Captain, well satisfied with his night's work, courteously invited me to have another glass of schnapps with him I accepted with alacrity. The glass was hardly at my lips when an orderly announced that we were at anchor in the shed. Thanking the brave Captain for the most wonderful experience of a not uninteresting lifetime, I hurried away to my hotel and fell into a deep slumber. When I awoke late that afternoon my manservant placed in my hand the last edition of the London _Times_. It stated that there had been a Zeppelin raid, and that 19 civilians, three cows, four churches, two rows of cottages, one omnibus, and no soldiers had been destroyed. I smiled--enigmatically. * * * * * "Socialist Working Man, aged 25, would welcome companionship of Socialist exempted conscientious objector, chiefly for week-end cycling; or athletic lady holding similar views would suit, residing North Kent area." _Socialist Paper._ It would be much better for him to meet an athletic lady not holding similar views. * * * * * THE OCC. POET'S APOLOGIA. Where the moon's unmitigated crescent, Sailing through the amethystine deeps, With a smile sardonic and senescent Down upon our Armageddon peeps; Thither, drawn by sympathy ecstatic, Like a shooting star my spirit flies From the company of gross, lymphatic Souls entangled by terrestrial ties.