If the M.L.O. has been thrown down there, who threw him?

Was it my idol, the A.M.L.O., in a moment of exasperation with his M.L.O.?

Or was it the M.L.O., in a moment of exasperation with my idol, the A.M.L.O.?  Yours ever, HENRY.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Old Lady.  “IS THIS THE RESULT OF A BOMB, CONSTABLE?”

Constable (fed up).  “BLESS YOU, NO, MA’AM.  THE GENT THAT LIVES HERE’S GOT HAY FEVER.”]

* * * * *

    “Naval Officer’s (Minesweeping) Wife would be grateful for the
    opportunity of purchasing a Baby’s Layette of good quality at a
    very reasonable price.”—­Morning Post.

Our congratulations to the mine sweeping wife upon having captured a Baby Mine.

* * * * *

BEASTS ROYAL.

III.

DUKE WILLIAM’S FALCON.  A.D. 1065.

  Upon a marsh beside the sea,
  With hawk and hound and vassals three,
  Rode WILLIAM, Duke of NORMANDY,
    The heir of Rover ROLLO;
  And ever as his falcon flew
  Quoth he:  “Mark well, by St. MACLOU,
  For where she hovers hasten you,
    And where she falls I follow.”

  She rose into the misty sky,
  A brooding menace hid on high,
  Ere she dipped earthward suddenly
    As dips the silver swallow;
  Then, spurring through the rushes grey,
  Cried WILLIAM, “Sirs, away, away! 
  For where she hovers is the prey,
    And where she falls I follow.”

  Her marbled plume with crimson dight,
  Seaward she soared, and bent her flight
  Above the ridge of foaming white
    Along the harbour hollow;
  Then, looking grimly toward the strait,
  Said WILLIAM, “Truly, soon or late,
  There where she hovers is my fate,
    And where she falls I follow.”

* * * * *

THE CAVE-DWELLERS.

“If you please, ma’am, that funny-looking gentleman with the long hair has brought his jug for some more water.  And could you oblige him with a little pepper?”

“Certainly not,” said my wife.  “The man’s a nuisance.  He is not even respectable—­looks like a gipsy or a disreputable artist.  I’ll speak to him myself.”  And she flounced out of the room.

I felt almost sorry for the man; but really the thing was overdone when, not content with overcrowding our village, these London people took to living in dug-outs on the common.

Matilda rushed back into the room with a metal jug in her hand.

“Oscar!  It’s old Sheffield plate, and there’s a coat-of-arms on it.  Turn up the heraldry book; look in the index for ‘bears.’  Perhaps they’re somebody after all.”

Matilda is a second cousin once removed of the Drewitts—­one of the best baronetcies in England—­and naturally we take an interest in Heraldry.