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the contents of his cakes, which led to the discovery that pigs' lard was used. Of course, I had to refuse to take any more cakes. The baker was at first greatly put out, and some very heated discussions took place between Aubrey and the baker.

"However, the baker at last promised to make us a special batch with our own nut suet. Last week we received five cakes, and the little lad, by way of reward, had a whole one for himself.

"If any little boys who are lovers of, and champions of, the helpless animals around care to write to Aubrey, I shall be delighted, and therefore give his address:

Master AUBREY MACKINTOSH, "The Schoolhouse, Peasend, "West Boreham, Suffolk. "I should like him to have some friends who are Vegetarians, for he gets rather a severe time among the boys here.

"Yours truly,

"E. W."

A prophetic glimpse into AUBREY'S letter-box is now respectfully offered:

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Yours sympathetically,

ONE WHO HAS TRIED Too. DEAR AUBREY,-I like to think of you in your fight with the baker and the boys very much. We have lately become to some extent vegetarians too, for father has bought a motorcar, and now we no longer sit idly behind a poor horse while it toils uphill. Your loving little Friend,

DEAR AUBREY,-It is impossible AUBREY SONNY,-Give it up. I not to admire your courage and sinknow what it means. We had a cerity even when one is (as I am as I K. L. visitor here the other day who was a write) full of roast beef; but at the DEAR AUBREY,-The next time the vegetarian, and it spoils everything. same time I am constrained to baker goes for you, hit him in the

He wanted special cooking and wonder how you do about life gene-bread-basket.
special food, and the cook gave rally. Boots, for instance-what are
notice twice the first day and three your boots made of? Brown paper, I

Yours truly,

M. W.

THE SOUL OF A SNAIL.

I MAY be only a snail, it is true, but at least I have the whip hand over man, who from the days of the Garden has tilled the ground for the delectation of my species. I sub-let my premises to a human tenant of the female gender, who wears short skirts and gardening gloves, fair curls, and a sun-bonnet. Every night I collect my rent in kind, and every day I lie in dreamy repletion in a drain-pipe, my ancestral home, and watch her efforts at gardening. Her failures are full of humour to me. She always waters before rain, dibs out before frost, and hasn't the initiative of a chrysalis. Still we have many tastes in common, including salad and strawberries, and I appreciate her feminine reluctance to take life in any form.

The party the other side of the wall, however, is not nearly SO liveable with, being a bushybrowed brute of a bachelor who has a grand show of flowers and fruit, a special pickle for slugs, a ruthless thumb end forefinger for green-fly, and a sole stained with the blood of a hundred snails. One morning as I lay half across the largest

me over the wall, breathing short and
fast with emotion. Before she could
move, a head popped up like a Jack-
in-the-box, two fierce brown eyes
glared into her blue ones, a finger and
thumb held me towards her, and an
ironical voice remarked-

"Your snail, I believe."

I thought she would have fainted,
but she held out her hand like a
whipped child, and took me back.
"I-I beg your pardon," she fal-
tered. "I didn't know you were
there."

"So I gathered."
"I--I don't like to kill them my-

self."

"My difficulty stamping."

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"Oh, won't they?" she said dejectedly. "Thank you very much." In the afternoon he resumed the conversation.

"What's been at your spinach? " he said.

"I don't know," she replied. "I think it's the east wind."

I chuckled, and he gave a wry smile, and next morning there was a brick taken out of the wall and a notice written above it

"SNAILS MAY BE SHOT HERE."

My tenant smiled when she saw it, but said nothing, and went on digging.

Well, aren't you going to?" said a masterful voice.

"No," she replied. "I haven't got a gun, besides I might shoot you by mistake."

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THE VERSATILE AND CHARMING ACTRESS, IN SOME OF HER FAVOURITE ROLES.

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Oh! that 's cruel; and they can't help liking strawberries."

So you wanted them to try

mine."

"I thought you might have some way of getting rid of them."

strawberry of our patch I heard
my tenant coming down the path.
She was pale, having just had a
desperate battle with a slug, which
had won by coming up the other side
of her gardening boot every time.
As a pick-me-up she stopped to A lethal chamber?"
smell a blighted rose, and shook her She shook her head.
head helplessly at the green-fly that "No," he said, "as a matter of
encased the stem. But at the sight fact you wanted me to murder the
of the big strawberry her eyes bright- innocent, instead of you. However,
ened and her mouth watered, and I am as soft-hearted as yourself. Good
stooping to pick it she found me morning."
underneath. The expression on her I returned to my drain-pipe at re-
face alarmed me, and thrice she cord speed, and I cracked my shell
raised her foot, and finally, her with laughing as I saw her hurry
heart failing, picked me up delicately back to the house with her eyes full
by the shell. I bubbled and retired of tears. Next morning, however, he
indoors with a hiss, and she promptly looked over again.
dropped me on the path; then, seized "Those lettuces won't grow," he
with a sudden inspiration, she shov- announced; "they 're too close to-
elled me up in a trowel, stood on tip-gether."

toe on the drain-pipe, and dropped She looked up with a blush,

didn't interest me.
ever, he asked for
person.

He laughed outright, but he seemed sorry all the same. He had, said rumour, been disa ppointed with life, and retired to his garden to take it cut of the slugs and snails, and I

expect his supply was getting low.

Next day 8 basket of strawberries found its way over the wall and, after that, frequent conversations followed, first on vegetables, then on flowers, and after that subjects that One night, howthe loan of my

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"But I don't want him killed now," she said. "I'm fond of him; and he 's a very nice-looking snail; -in fact, I may here mention that for length of horn, glossiness of shell, and sinuosity of figure I have no peer.

"I don't want to kill him," he said; "I've a tender feeling towards him myself; besides, I'm lonely, and I want something to pet and take care of."

When my tenant stooped down to take me from the drain-pipe her cheeks were as red as the sunset, and in another moment I had changed hands. All my past rose up before me as I felt the thrill of his fingers. The fact that I was champion seed. ling eater of my year availed little,

for next instant I fully expected to be spread on the gravel beneath his treacherous heel. Instead, however, I found myself tenderly deposited on a patch of juicy tops, and from that day forward I lived like a lord.

But my dream of succulence was of short duration, for one evening, after a murmured conversation which had lasted for hours, I heard him say in a tone of triumph

"And I'll have his shell set with gold, and stuffed, and wear it for a tie. pin at the ceremony."

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Will you, though!" said I. "It is excellently well stuffed as it is, I thank you! and that night I climbed three sheds and five fences, and am at the present time employed in founding a new dynasty at No. 11, where the cauliflowers are captivating and the seakale quite good.

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His ears and killed their domesticity,

Teacher (after explaining the character of the Pharisee). "AND NOW, WHAT DO WE MEAN BY

A 'HYPOCRITE'?"

Pupil. "PLEASE, MISS, A MAN WOT SAYS HE IS WOT HE ISN'T, BUT HE AIN'T!"

"Statistics compiled by a New York hairdressers' society show that 56 per cent. of the A widow by her husband's frenzied adult male population of America wear beards,

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25 per cent. wear moustaches and 20 per cent. are clean-shaven."-Daily Express.

Once more America has gone one better than any other country, for the arithmetic of The Express is by this time above suspicion.

From an advt. of the V Car in The Daily Chronicle:

Specially designed to take elaborate bodies. Look at the side entrance."

A special "side" entrance would be just the thing for some of our town councils.

Enterprise.

"Milk Business Wanted (without cows); young man giving up the sea would like to purchase a genuine one."-Lancashire Daily

Press.

Bright Bits from Birmingham. DURING his speech Mr. BALFOUR had on a collar, and it was noticed with interest that this was worn in accordance with current fashion,

round his neck.

The hall in which Mr. BALFOUR spoke is capable of holding 5,000 people, and it is calculated that if it was only twice as big it would probably hold 10,000.

It would surprise many people— even those, indeed, who are most familiar with political life-to learn that nearly all the Conservative agents at Birmingham this week. were retired Moujik dentists.

The letter from the Conservative leader, read at the afternoon meet-A pity to give up the sea if he has ing, was written on a sheet of noteno cows. He will need something of paper. Those who saw the commuthe kind to mix with the chalk. Inication believe that ink was used.

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Charitably-disposed Spinster. 'AH, NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY! MUSTN'T BARK LIKE THAT!

Undeserving Object. "YOUR DOG EVIDENTLY AIN'T USED TO 'AVING GENTLEMEN ABOUT THE 'OUSE, LADY!"

PARENTAL PEDAGOGY.

["Many fathers and mothers are furbishing up their studies in order that they may help their children in their home-work."--Daily Mirror.]

NOT for me The Times or Standard,
Not for me with practised art
To extract the newsy kernel

From the journal
Of my heart.

Weeks have passed since I meandered
Through The D.T.'s classic vale;
Energy-absorbing duties

Bar the beauties
Of The Mail.

Precious now is every minute

I can snatch from office cares; More than golden may be reckoned Every second

Mammon spares. When the foggy dawn comes in, it Finds me conning ó, n, Tó; Evening, thick as soup and yellow, Brings De Bello Gallico.

Whilst upon my strap I dangle, Every morning, as I sway, Diligently do I hammer

At my grammar On the way. All the old forgotten jangle I am learning up once more; Soon I'll say my orbis, ensis, Lapis, mensis,

As of yore.

At the hour when folk are lunching, Me, a bent old man, you 'll see Mid an A.B.C. aroma

Grinding σῶμα,

ἅλς, γύνη.

Yet my zeal must be unsleeping,
Else will dawn a day to rue,
When AUGUSTUS brings me proses
Which he knows his
Dad can't do.

A Pretty Compliment.

"Lord Desborough is the name which has been given, by way of compliment to the chairman of the Thames Conservancy, to the big twinscrew sand pump hopper dredger which has just been built at Port Glasgow for use on the Thames."-- Daily Telegraph.

This is just one of those delicate courtesies that go to sweeten the

There again you'll find me munching rough labours of public life.

Buttered toast when five draws

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MRS. BRITANNIA. "NOW THEN, CHARLES, MY BOY, IF YOU MUST BOX PERCY'S EARS, YOU MIGHT WAIT TILL MY VISITOR'S GONE."

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