A thorough change? Ah, barren quest,
Foredoomed to fail ere half begun!
Though left behind, my England pressed
In hot pursuit of me, her son;
London was brought again to view
By hordes of maidens out for pillage,
When from the train I stepped into
A flag day in an Alpine village.

* * * * *

WIRE AND BARBED WIRE.

This was the telegram that, after much hesitation, I had written out
at the side desk in the post-office and carried to the main desk to
despatch:--

Pactolus, London.

St. Vitus carburetter stammer tyre scream Sanguine.

You will observe that it is unintelligible. Decoded, it meant that I,
whose betting pseudonym is Sanguine, wished to invest with Messrs.
Lure, commission agents (not bookmakers, no, not for a moment),
whose telegraphic address is "Pactolus, London," a sum of ten pounds
(carburetter) on a horse called St. Vitus to win (stammer), and twenty
pounds (tyre) for a place (scream). I had done this for various
reasons, none really good, but chiefly because every paper that I had
opened had urged me to do so, some even going so far as to dangle a
double before me with St. Vitus as one of the horses. Nearly all had