It was at this moment that Edward appeared. His route was the very centre of the lawn. He was wearing a battered Panama hat, a much-darned brownish jersey, and his nether man--or rather boy, for Edward's years are but four--was encased in paddling drawers made of the same material as a sponge-bag. Black sand-shoes completed his outfit, and a broken shrimping- net trailed behind him. At the moment when Edward first caught my horrified eye a particularly well-groomed young gentleman of about his own age caught Edward's eye in turn. Edward paused to survey this silken wonder with interest. Then, as if prompted thereto by the sight, he snatched off his hat and, casting it upon the ground, kicked it vigorously across the grass. The removal of the hat was the last straw, for Edward's hair is provocatively red. My friend of the B.O.F. advanced towards him with the intention of exerting authority and restoring discipline. Edward turned at the sound of a stern voice. Possibly he might have put out his tongue--you never know with Edward. But, what was worse, far worse, he saw me. With a glad cry of "Daddy" he rushed to me and, regardless of the fact that his front was covered with green slime, the result of going _ventre a pierre_ over the rocks, he flung his arms round my legs. I would gladly have sunk into the ground. All eyes were upon us, and remained, as I felt, upon me, even when a breathless nursery-maid had retrieved Edward and borne him seawards once more. One especially I had noticed, a very superbly dressed female visitor who had paused to witness the whole scene and was now resuming her promenade. I dreaded the comment which I felt I should overhear as she passed me--"What a horrible child!" it would be at the very least. But women are strangely unaccountable, even in so highly civilised an atmosphere as this. I distinctly heard her say, "What a darling!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Mother._ "IT IS VERY NAUGHTY TO TELL UNTRUTHS, KITTY. THOSE WHO DO SO NEVER GET TO HEAVEN." _Kitty._ "DIDN'T YOU EVER TELL AN UNTRUTH, MUMMY?" _Mother._ "NO, DEAR--NEVER." _Kitty._ "WELL, YOU'LL BE FEARFULLY LONELY, WON'T YOU, WITH ONLY GEORGE WASHINGTON?"] * * * * * THE HORRORS OF PEACE. "Wanted.--Boy for Butchering, about 15 years old."--_Local Paper._ Extract from a solicitor's letter:-- "The sale of the above premises is now nearing completion and we expect to have the conveyance ready for execution in the course of a short period the length of which depends to some extent upon how soon we can obtain the execution of the Bishop." * * * * * NEO-TOPICS. There was a young neo-DELANE Whose writing was frequently sane; But the name of LLOYD GEORGE So uplifted his gorge That it threatened to swallow his brain.