FREDERICK PETHERTON.

I made a thrust in tierce:—­

DEAR COUSIN FRED,—­What a mine of information you are!  I touch a spring and out comes Primus Postumus Petherton.  The name conjures up visions of grey church towers, monumental urns and the eulogies in verse beloved of Georgian poets.  I wonder whether Possy was a great letter-writer and kept poultry.  By the way, what a lot of good things begin with a “P,” and, talking of poultry, I notice yours are laying, or should be.  They are certainly in full song these mornings.

I’m so glad that you’re so glad that I’m a relation.  When I was at the Record Office again yesterday I searched for more information about my new-found relatives.  In fact I dug up the Petherton allotment thoroughly and unearthed Priscilla and Anne, both of CHARLES I.’s time, and Marmaduke of the Restoration.

I couldn’t exhume a complete family tree, or no doubt I should have found all these worthies hanging on their respective branches, though Marmaduke might have dropped off, as he appears to have been a bit over-ripe from what I could gather from the records.

How are the Food Regulations suiting you?  Judging from your last letter I’m afraid you are not taking enough starch.  Of course I know it’s gone up fearfully in price lately.  Personally I’ve taken to wearing soft collars.

    Your affectionate Cousin, H.F.

    Aren’t you pleased that potatoes have come in again? (Another
    good thing beginning with a P.)

Petherton ground his teeth for a last bout, and bade me come on.

SIR (he wrote),—­I’m glad you’ve taken to soft collars.  They will suit your soft head.  As for food, I’m afraid you’re not taking enough arsenic.  A slight touch of relationship to my family has evidently turned your brain.  I cannot say how sorry I am that you should have discovered the one flaw in my pedigree.

    Yours faithfully,

    FREDERICK PETHERTON.

I gave him one last little tweak under the ribs:—­

DEAR OLD BOY,—­Just a hurried line to say that all is forgiven and forgotten.  The family feud (there must have been one, I’m certain) which has kept the Pethertons and the Fordyces apart for the last couple of centuries is a thing of the past, now that we two understand each other so thoroughly.  I am only sorry I did not discover the strawberry mark on your left arm earlier, that I might the sooner have subscribed myself.

    Your long lost HARRY.

This either disarmed him or he threw away his weapon in disgust.

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[Illustration:  British Tar (confidentially to lady friend).  “SHE’S SUNK ALL RIGHT.”]

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    “Other houses have a good many books which have come down
    from posterity, mostly in odd volumes.”—­"Claudius Clear”
    in “The British Weekly."