MY DEAR KIPLING,--Just a line to say how much I admire your poem in this morning's _Times_. You have never voiced the feeling of the moment with more force or keener insight. But you will, I am sure, pardon me when I say that in the fifty-eighth stanza there is a regrettable flaw, which could however quickly be put right. To me, that fine appeal to Monaco to give up its neutrality is impaired by the use of the word "cope," which I have always understood should be avoided by good writers. "Deal" has the same meaning and is a truer word. You will, I am sure, agree with me in this criticism when you have leisure to think it over. Believe me, my dear KIPLING, Yours sincerely, WILLIAM WOOD. _To His Grace the Archbishop of CANTERBURY._ MY DEAR ARCHBISHOP,--That was a very delightful dinner you gave me last night, and I was glad to have the opportunity of meeting Lord MORLEY and discussing with him the character of MARLBOROUGH. While not agreeing with everything that Lord MORLEY said, I am bound to admit that his views impressed me. Some day soon you must bring her Ladyship down to The Towers for a dine and sleep. I am, my dear Archbishop, Yours cordially, WILLIAM WOOD. _To Lord NORTHCLIFFE._ MY DEAR ALFRED,--You cannot, I am sure, do better than continue in the course you have chosen. What England needs is a vigilant observer from without; and who, as I have so often told you, is better fitted for such a part than you? You have all the qualities--high mobility, the courage to abandon convictions, and extreme youth. If you lack anything it is perhaps ballast, and here I might help you. Ring me up at any time, day or night, and I will come to you, just as I used to do years ago when you were beginning. Think of me always as Yours very sincerely, WILLIAM WOOD. _To Sir ARTHUR WING PINERO._ MY DEAR PINERO,--I am glad you liked my suggestion and are already at work upon it. No one could handle it so well as you. I write now because it has occurred to me that the proper place for Lord Scudamore to disown his guilty wife and for her impassioned reply is not, as we had it, the spare room, but the parlour. I am, dear old fellow, Always yours to command, WILLIAM WOOD Having written thus far, Mr. William Wood went to bed, perfectly at peace with himself and the world. * * * * * [Illustration: _Friend (to Professor, whose lecture, "How to Stop the War," has just concluded)_. "CONGRATULATE YOU, OLD MAN--WENT SPLENDIDLY, AT ONE TIME DURING THE AFTERNOON I WAS RATHER ANXIOUS FOR YOU." _Professor._ "THANKS. BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN SO CONCERNED ON MY BEHALF." _Friend._ "WELL, A RUMOUR _DID_ GO ROUND THE ROOM THAT THE WAR WOULD BE OVER BEFORE YOUR LECTURE." ] * * * * * THE GREAT BETRAYAL.