* * * * *

LINES ON A NEW HISTORY.

  Weary of MACAULAY, never nodding,
    Weary of the stodginess of STUBBS,
  Weary of the scientific plodding
    Of the school that only digs and grubs;
  I salute, with grateful admiration
    Foreign to the hireling eulogist,
  CHESTERTON’S red-hot self-revelation
    In the guise of England’s annalist.

  Here is no parade of erudition,
    No pretence of calm judicial tone,
  But the stimulating ebullition
    Of a sort of humanized cyclone;
  Unafraid of flagrant paradoxes,
    Unashamed of often seeing red,
  Here’s a thinker who the compass boxes
    Standing most at ease upon his head.

  Yet with all this acrobatic frolic
    There’s a core of sanity behind
  Madness that is never melancholic,
    Passion never cruel or unkind;
  And, although his wealth of purple patches
    Some precisians may excessive deem,
  Still the decoration always matches
    Something rich and splendid in the theme.

  Not a text-book—­that may admitted—­
    Full of dates and Treaties and of Pacts,
  For our author cannot be acquitted
    Of a liberal handling of his facts;
  But a stirring proof of Britain’s title,
    Less in Empire than in soul, of “Great,”
  And a frank and generous recital
    Of “the glories of our blood and State.”

* * * * *

JOURNALISTIC CANDOUR.

“Mrs. ——­, to her latest days, was a devoted student of the ‘Recorder.’  Her end came through continuous ’eye strain’ in reading the Conference news for several hours together.”—­Methodist Recorder.

* * * * *

    “Barons Court.—­To let, furnished, an attractive little
    artist’s House, well fitted throughout.”—­The Observer.

A flapper writes to say that she would like to know more about this attractive little artist.

* * * * *

SIX-AND-A-PENNY-HALFPENNY.

“This,” I said, “is perfectly monstrous.  It is an outrage.  It—­”

“What have they done to you now?” said Francesca.  “Have they forbidden you to have your boots made of leather, or to go on wearing your shiny old blue serge suit, or have they failed in some way to recognise your merits as a Volunteer?  Quick, tell me so that I may comfort you.”

“Listen to this,” I said.

“I should be better able to listen and you would certainly be better able to read the letter if you didn’t brandish it in my face.”

“When you’ve heard it,” I said, “you’ll understand why I brandish it.  Listen:—­

“’Sir,—­I understand that on the 15th instant you travelled from Star Bond to our London terminus without your season-ticket, and declined to pay the ordinary fare.  One of the conditions which you signed stipulates that in the event of your inability to produce your season-ticket the ordinary fare shall be paid, and as the Railway Executive now controlling the railways on behalf of the Government is strict in enforcing the observance of this condition, I have no alternative but to request you to kindly remit me the sum of 6s. 1-1/2d. in respect of the journey in question.