"This play is historian & so touching. It is Containing 3rd classes. Its length is 1200 metres. Its subject that was John General, the engineer in a small village the was a simple labour the became very skilful in making ironships. Therefore he became a rich man the had a wife, called Ima. Her conduct was extremely good. When he found himself very rich, the left his wife at all. One day he accompagned his wife & rode a motor car while they were walking, he saw a womens, called baron Nellie Dow. At last this man was mending an iron ship. It was broken out, the became blind. Baron Nellie Dow, left him at once. But his life came in as an assistant doctor. She was observing him untel he was cured. He found her by him. He know that his wife well & was very sorry about the bad entreatment, that he had done with her." * * * * * [Illustration: AS BETWEEN FRIENDS. BRITISH LION. "PLEASE DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, SAM. _YOU_'RE NOT THE EAGLE I'M UP AGAINST."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE INCORRIGIBLES AGAIN. "WHAT-HO, CHARLIE! BIT SHOWERY, AIN'T IT?"] * * * * * THE DEFENCE OF AMBERRY PARVA. Amberry Parva certainly existed before SHAKSPEARE's time, but I doubt if SHAKSPEARE ever saw it. For which he was so much the poorer, seeing that Amberry is a faithful microcosm of much of England. Thomas Fallow, Aaron West and George Hangar are all friends of mine. Though still comparative youthful, they are the shining lights of the Amberry Rural Council, self-trained to face a crisis or an emergency with calm and steady bearing. When I came upon them last week they were seated about the bench outside the door of "The Three Cups." A fourth man--a small hairy stranger--was addressing them. Thomas Fallow motioned me to halt. "We're consultin'," he explained, "with Mr. Chittenden as keeps the baccy-shop in Wream." Now Wream is a shade--the merest shade--more important (in its own esteem) than Amberry. It sits astride the same high road that the Romans carved seawards a thousand-odd years ago, and supplies us with newspapers, telegrams and gossip. While we score in the possession of two tin chapels to their one, we writhe inwardly over a Diamond Jubilee Fountain which we cannot hope to surpass. "Mr. Chittenden," pursued Thomas, "brings noos." "Good news?" I asked. Mr. Chittenden, like the Eldest Oyster, shook his heavy head. "I 'eard it from a natteralized German two days ago. It seems that they're goin' to make a fresh dash with invisible Zeppelins. Once they can _e_-vade the ships that's watchin'----" He left the sentence unfinished.