I watch him keep a perturbed and restless Major from the line waiting while he finishes his light-hearted badinage with a subordinate. It is altogether magnificent in its sheer _sangfroid_. Why is it that such a one is labelled merely A.M.L.O., when he should obviously be the M.L.O.? He has his subordinate, happily insignificant and obsequiously proud to serve. Let the subordinate be the a.m.l.o., and let It, Itself, be openly acknowledged to be It, Itself. By the way, where _is_ his M.L.O.? Has anybody ever seen him? I haven't. Does he exist?... Has he been got rid of? There is a convenient crevice between the quay and the boat with a convenient number of feet of water at the bottom of it. Is the M.L.O. down there, and is the "A.M.L.O." brassard but the modesty of true greatness? If the M.L.O. has been thrown down there, who threw him? Was it my idol, the A.M.L.O., in a moment of exasperation with his M.L.O.? Or was it the M.L.O., in a moment of exasperation with my idol, the A.M.L.O.? Yours ever, HENRY. * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Lady_. "IS THIS THE RESULT OF A BOMB, CONSTABLE?" _Constable (fed up)_. "BLESS YOU, NO, MA'AM. THE GENT THAT LIVES HERE'S GOT HAY FEVER."] * * * * * "Naval Officer's (Minesweeping) Wife would be grateful for the opportunity of purchasing a Baby's Layette of good quality at a very reasonable price."--_Morning Post_. Our congratulations to the mine sweeping wife upon having captured a Baby Mine. * * * * * BEASTS ROYAL. III. DUKE WILLIAM'S FALCON. A.D. 1065. Upon a marsh beside the sea, With hawk and hound and vassals three, Rode WILLIAM, Duke of NORMANDY, The heir of Rover ROLLO; And ever as his falcon flew Quoth he: "Mark well, by St. MACLOU, For where she hovers hasten you, And where she falls I follow." She rose into the misty sky, A brooding menace hid on high, Ere she dipped earthward suddenly As dips the silver swallow; Then, spurring through the rushes grey, Cried WILLIAM, "Sirs, away, away! For where she hovers is the prey, And where she falls I follow." Her marbled plume with crimson dight, Seaward she soared, and bent her flight Above the ridge of foaming white Along the harbour hollow; Then, looking grimly toward the strait, Said WILLIAM, "Truly, soon or late, There where she hovers is my fate, And where she falls I follow." * * * * * THE CAVE-DWELLERS. "If you please, ma'am, that funny-looking gentleman with the long hair has brought his jug for some more water. And could you oblige him with a little pepper?" "Certainly not," said my wife. "The man's a nuisance. He is not even respectable--looks like a gipsy or a disreputable artist. I'll speak to him myself." And she flounced out of the room.