There it remained for several days, a marvel of accuracy. My poor umbrella began to wear a look of neglect, but my walking-stick was jubilant. "Set Fair" it was again on the Friday, and again I set out with my happy malacca. On my return wet through I had another proof of the excellence of my faithful aneroid. Its needle pointed imperatively to "Change." This, in fact, I had already decided to do, but to a less careful man the instruction must have been of inestimable advantage. * * * * * OUR "PROMISED" LAND. (_An "explanation" of another of the PREMIER'S election "promises."_) My emotion I well can remember O'er a "promise" that somewhere I'd seen One night, away back in December Anno Domini 1918. Happy tears in my orbs began wellin' As I read how the England-to-be Would become a fit messuage to dwell in For heroes like me. Refreshed by an access of ardour I returned to my business in town; But, as life seemed each day to grow harder, I despaired of its joy and its crown; Till, fed up with a "tale" for poor Tommies, My temper I finally lost, And pronounced that oracular "promise" A palpable frost. But I've tumbled at last to my error; For, although I am far from content, I know that this era of terror Is just what the Government meant; When through England so bell-like and clear rose That eager, that passionate vow; Since none but a race of real heroes Can live in it now. * * * * * =Commercial Candour.= "SITUATIONS WANTED. Housemaid, unscrupulously clean." _Melbourne Argus._ * * * * * "Mr. Arthur Henderson, M.P., has added 2-1/2 stones to his stature since he left the nursing home in Leeds."--_Daily Mail._ And three cubits to his weight. * * * * * [Illustration: MORE HINTS TO SOCIAL CLIMBERS: HOW TO ATTRACT NOTICE.] * * * * * THE BROWN LADY. We were talking of the sex, the dark and the fair, and "Give me," he said, "a brunette every time. But how seldom one meets them now!" I expressed surprise at this. "Yes," he said, "it is so. Plenty of women with dark hair, but not dark skins. The true brunette is very rare." "I know one," I said; "probably the most perfect brunette in London." "Young?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "Could I--would you take me to see her?" he asked. "Certainly," I said. "When?" he asked. "Now," I said; "this afternoon. But we must hurry. Her servants have orders not to let anyone in after four." "You're sure she won't mind?" he asked. "Absolutely," I said. "My friends are hers. I've introduced lots of people to her and she's delighted." He smiled blissfully. Having obtained a taxi I gave an address in Regent's Park, but told the driver to stop at a shop on the way "She loves sweets," I explained.