"It's all my very own plan," she said proudly. "I planned it all by myself. An' all my birfdays I'm going to have one of that nasty man's frushes for a present, and we'll all free come up here and let it out--always an' always an' for ever an' ever--right up till I'm a hundred." "Why stop at a hundred?" I murmured, recovering myself with an effort. But I could not escape Kathleen's eye. "I hope you feel small," it said. I did. * * * * * [Illustration: _The Colonel._ "_ANYONE_ MAY MISS THE TIDE OR GET STUCK UPON A MUD-BANK; BUT TO LOSE THE MATCHES AND FORGET THE WHISKY IS TO PROVE YOURSELF UNWORTHY OF THE NAME OF 'YACHTSMAN'!"] * * * * * RHYMES OF THE UNDERGROUND. I. I never heard of Ruislip, I never saw its name, Till Underground advertisements had brought it into fame; I've never been to Ruislip, I never yet have heard The true pronunciation of so singular a word. I'd like to go to Ruislip; I'd like to feast my eyes On "scenes of sylvan beauty" that the posters advertise; But, though I long to view the spot, while I am in the dark About its name I dare not face the booking-office clerk. Suppose I ventured "Riz-lip" and in answer to his "Eh?" Stammered "Ruse-lip, Rise-lip, Rees-lip," just imagine how he'd say, "Well, where _do_ you want to book to?" and the voices from behind, "Must we wait until this gentleman has ascertained his mind?" II. The trains that stop at Down Street--(Sing willow-waly-O!)-- They run through Hyde Park Corner as fast as they can go; And trains at Hyde Park Corner that stop--(Oh dearie me!)-- Contrariwise at Down Street are "non-stop" as can be. There's a man at Down Street Station--he came there years ago To get to Hyde Park Corner--(Sing willow-waly-O!)-- And, as the trains go past him, 'tis pitiful to see Him beat his breast and murmur, "Oh dearie, dearie me!" * * * * * '"The Rev. R.S. ---- has accepted the post of librarian of Pussy House, Oxford."--_Local Paper._ And will soon get to work on the catalogue. * * * * * "WANTED--a middle-aged Witty Indian to read Bengali religious books and capable of telling witty and fairy tales from 12 to 3 p.m."--_Indian Paper._ This might suit Mr. GANDHI. If not witty, he is very good at fairy-tales. * * * * * VADE MECUMS. I have invented a new sort of patience. It is called Vade Mecums. The rules are quite simple and all the plant you need for it is a "Vade Mecum" traveller's handbook and a complete ignorance of all languages but your own. Get one of these fascinating little classics, a passport and a single to Boulogne, and you can begin at once.