_Me_. Beard. (Rather weak effort.) _Davies._ Moustache. (Weaker still; received with groans.) _Miss Davies_ (quick as another lightning). CHARLIE CHAPLIN. (Loud cheers here and laughter, followed by a long pause while John thinks.) At last:-- _John._ MARY PICKFORD. _Me_ (after another pause). DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS. _Davies_ (indicating with a wave of the hand that it has been forced on him). D.W. GRIFFITHS. There is a slight hold-up at this point while Miss Davies tells her brother that he is not trying, and he says he knows he isn't. Miss Davies gets back on to the track amidst applause, however, with:-- "Broken Blossoms." After this things went on for a long time, hours and hours I should say. I remember that we mentioned among many subjects of interest sausage-rolls, horoscopes, hair-pins, Cleopatra's Needle and lung-wort. I must resist the temptation to tell the whole absorbing story in detail, and skip rapidly to the point where the chase reached the following interesting stage:-- _Miss Davies_ (still going strong). Whale. _John_ (struggling hard but growing weak). Oil. _Me_ (quite innocently). Grease. _Davies_ (triumphantly). MARGARINE. I looked at Miss Davies in embarrassment. John gazed round pitifully. "But," he murmured weakly, "isn't that where we started?" "Of course it is," said Miss Davies indignantly. "You've spoilt the whole game, Arthur." "Well, I can't help it," said her brother; "I thought that was the word we were after. What was it, anyway?" We all looked at the sky and thought hard. "Hanged if I know," said John. "I'm sure I don't," I said. "Well, isn't that ridiculous?" said Miss Davies. "Of course it is," said her brother brutally; "I _knew_ it was ridiculous from the beginning. _You_ said it quickened the mental processes. Would memory be one of them?" "Let's go inside and have some tea," said John. We crept quietly indoors. * * * * * Halfway through tea Miss Davies suddenly waved her teaspoon aloft. We looked at her and saw a great light shining in her eyes. "Hip--hip--hippopotamus!" she shrieked. We all agreed that Miss Davies had won. * * * * * [Illustration: "PLAY US A CHUNE, MISTER."] * * * * * MAGNANIMITY. There was once a satirical pup Who with newspaper rule was fed up, So he wrote bitter rhymes Which disparaged _The Times_ But were praised in its weekly _Lit. Supp._ * * * * * "The Canadian officials refused to allow her to land because she did not proopse to carry out her original intention tom arry Captain ----, and the New Yorkaut horities declined to interfere with the Canadian decision."--_Daily Paper._ But what we really want to know is where Tom and 'Arry come in. * * * * * "NEW YORK, Sunday.