HOW WOULD 'FUSION' DO?"

CAPTAIN. "'FUSION' OR 'CONFUSION'--IT'S ALL ONE TO ME SO LONG AS I'M
SKIPPER."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _First Juvenile Spectator (as the Oxford crew go out
to practice)_. "THERE Y'ARE, 'ERR--WOT DID I TELL YER? THEY '_AVE_ GOT
ONLY ONE OAR EACH!"

_Second ditto_. "YOU WAIT TILL THE DAY OF THE RACE!"]

* * * * *

THE LAST OF THE WATCH DOGS.

MY DEAR CHARLES,--In all the stirring history of the War I don't know
which has been the most moving sight: the War Office trying to get me
to be a soldier, or the War Oflice trying to get me to stop being a
soldier.

Before the late Summer of 1914, England had evinced no burning
interest in its Henry. It had, in fact, left me to make my own way,
contenting itself with cautioning me if I didn't stick to the right
side of the road, or to fining me if I exceeded the speed limit. In
August of that memorable year it got, you will remember, mixed up
in rather a nasty bother. Searching for friends to get it out, it
bethought itself of Henry, along with 499,999 others whose names for
the moment I do not recall. Between us (with subsequent assistance) we