you say you are. Daresay you'd like me to write it for you, and you 'op it
while I done it. I seen your kind before. Try again, mate."

So Hobbs tried again. And that is how it came about that at tea-time a
telegraph-boy brought me the bewildering message: "Mr. Lockwood, The Nook,
Monk's Langford. Sir, am I Hobbs? Hobbs."

* * * * *

[Illustration: LOVERS' QUARRELS.

JOHN BULL (_to France_). "WONDERFUL HOW A LITTLE STORM IN A TEA-POT BRINGS
OUT THE FLAVOUR!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: OUTSIDE THE RADIUS.

_Strong Man._ "NOW THEN, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, KIND APPRECIATION, IF YOU
PLEASE. YOU SHORLY DON'T EXPECT A GENUINE WEST-END PERFORMER TO 'ALF KILL
'ISSELF IN THE SUBUBS FOR FOURPENCE?"]

* * * * *

BRIDGE NOTES.

(_With acknowledgments to several contemporaries._)

It would, I feel, be but fair to the great Bridge-playing public to preface
these few notes with a word of warning against the writers whom I find to