Kidger began to show signs of neurasthenia. His stock of pre-war collars was exhausted, or rather eroded. His faithful aunt, however, remembered a neglected birthday and gave him a dozen new ones, of the up-and-down model, to save Kidger's delicate neck. These, with his nice butterfly-bow ties, looked really well, and Kidger recovered his old form. I warned him to keep to the police and Parliamentary news in the papers, but his eyes would wander. The result was that he learned from "Brigade Major" that the wearing of a butterfly bow with a double event collar was a solecism past forgiveness or repentance, and that its smart appearance was the deadly bait which caught the miserable bumpkin who ignorantly fancied that a man could dress by the light of nature. Kidger collapsed. His aunt volunteered to sell her annuity and help him, but the innate nobility of the man forbade him to accept this useless sacrifice. His medical attendant tells me that he is now allowed to read only poetry, wearing a sweater meanwhile, and that arrangements are being made for him to join a sheep-farming cousin in Patagonia, where collars are despised and newspapers invariably out of date. W.K.H. * * * * * [Illustration: _She._ "I TOLD 'EE TO GREASE THE WHEELS AFORE WE COME OUT." _He._ "IT BE AS MUCH AS I CAN DO TO KEEP UP WITH IT AS 'TIS."] * * * * * A SUPERFLUOUS ANNOUNCEMENT. "The Government have found it impossible to proceed with the Government of Ireland before the Autumn Session."--_Daily Paper._ * * * * * "Clerk (Junior) Wanted for Spinners' Office, age 1617.--_Yorkshire Paper._ "Junior," we take it, is a misprint. * * * * * EDWARD AND THE B.O.F. It was the first Sunday of the season, and the select end of Folkesbourne revealed in each carefully curled geranium leaf, in each carefully-combed blade of grass, the thought and labour expended by the B.O.F. (Borough of Folkesbourne). Upon the greensward stood orderly rows of well-washed chairs, each with B.O.F. neatly stencilled upon its back. On this day, however, and at this hour (12.30 P.M.) scarce a B.O.F. was visible; each was hidden by a well-dressed visitor. And between the orderly rows of well-dressed visitors paraded orderly pairs of superbly-dressed visitors. I was standing at the corner by the steps leading to the lower parade and thence to the beach and the rocks where the common people (myself on week-days, for instance) go to paddle with their children. I was wearing my new pale-grey suit which cost--but you will know more or less what it cost; I need not labour an unpleasant subject--and I was actually talking at the time to a member of the B.O.F. "This is Peace at last," he was saying; "the place really begins to look--"