"I don't know," I replied. "That's about my usual at the old game." And therewith I made my tee, drove and went into the garden to cut a cabbage leaf. * * * * * After hoeing the vegetables with a mashie for a hot two hours, I fought my way out of the rhubarb on all fours, with a golf-ball between my teeth, and then strode doggedly back to the tee and drove into the virgin artichoke forest. While I toyed there with the sub-soil, the unwearied James went to earth among the marrows. Hastily I heeled my ball into the ground (to be retrieved by James months later and announced as a curious scientific result of growing artichokes on a golf course), uttered a cry of triumph, and strolled out into the open. "A hundred and seventy-nine. My game, I think," I announced. James extricated himself and walked with me to the butt. "Hullo!" I said, "it's sunk. Thought it was a floater. It ought to be for a half-crown ball." "You mustn't lose it," said James suspiciously. "Well let off the water and get it out." "No, no," I protested. "It's not one that I really valued. Oh, very well," I added indifferently, feeling in my pocket for a non-floater. James stooped to open the tap, and I popped the new ball in unobtrusively. It floated. And the next instant James stood up and saw it. After that of course there was nothing left to do but to ask for the time-table, shake hands, thank James for a most delightful visit, and express my regrets that any little _contretemps...._ W. B. * * * * * [Illustration: _Major_. "WHY HAVE YOU PUT THAT CLOTH OVER HIS HEAD?" _Private Mike O'Flanagan (harassed by restive horse)_. "SO AS HE WON'T KNOW HE'S BEING GROOMED, SORR."] * * * * * "----'s new Pattern Books of WALLPAPERS will be sent on loan free of charge. "N.B.-- ----'s use adhesive paste, which has been expressly prepared to conform with the Food Controller's regulations." _Advt. in Evening Paper_. So it is no use waylaying the paper-hanger on the chance of getting a free meal. * * * * * ANSWER TO CORRESPONDENT. _"Anti-Reprisal."_--If you are out walking, and enemy aeroplanes are dropping bombs on your side of the street, it is advisable to cross over to the other side. Never shake your umbrella at the enemy 'planes. A taxi-driver might think you were signalling to him. * * * * * Some of our street urchins are quite bucking up in their education. The other day a small boy called out to a Frenchman, "Pourquoi n'êtes-vous pas en bleu? _Slackeur!_" * * * * * "Unique Old-World Cottage (big), about 30 min. door to West End, yet rural seclusion; frequent express trains, last 12 p.m.; nothing like it so close town; suit antique lover." _Observer_. This should make a beautiful retreat for an elderly _Lothario's_ declining years.