“Surprised!” echoed the other.  “Why it was what we all expected from the first!”

THE PESSIMIST.

The British Fleet, by a carefully calculated plan, had disappeared.  It was then that the Nation had to depend upon its second line of defence—­the Army.

The enemy, although somewhat depressed at the losses they had sustained, attempted to land, and of course were successful.  The picked batteries from Woolwich, consisting of the Royal Horse Artillery, opened fire, but without the smallest effect.  On the following morning the main force of the enemy appeared in front of Margate, the recently fortified port.  It was then found how foolish the Committee of Home Defence had been in their recommendation.  Feeling doubtful of the means the Government would have at their command to defend an unprotected town, they had ordered every village on the coast to be surrounded by the most intricate network of bricks and earthworks.  And now, in the hour of need, these elaborate preparations were valueless.  The troops of the enemy poured into Margate almost without opposition.  The forts were silenced in five minutes, and although on the following morning the Household Brigade came to the rescue, the assistance thus afforded was of no avail.

During the succeeding week the entire army of the foe was allowed to land in England, and were immediately victorious.  The contract for finding them lodgings in London made somebody’s fortune.  Within a week England was grovelling in the dust at the feet of her conquerors.

“And are you surprised?” asked a journalist, addressing the greatest tactician of the century.

“Surprised!” he echoed—­“why it was what we all expected from the first!”

* * * * *

NEW RIDDLE (WITH THE OLD ANSWER).—­Where was ISAACS when the Balance-Sheet went out?

* * * * *

THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.

NO.  II.

SCENE—­Courtyard of the “Grand Hôtel du Lion Belgique et d’Albion,” at Brussels.  It is just after Table d’hôte; PODBURY and CULCHARD are sitting on a covered terrace, with coffee.

Podbury (producing a pipe).  Not such a bad dinner!  Expect they’ll rook us a lot for it, though.  Rather fun, seeing the waiters all troop in with a fresh course, when the proprietor rang his bell.  Like a ballet at the Empire—­eh?

Culchard (selecting a cigarette).  I’m not in a position to say.  I don’t affect those places of entertainment myself.

Podb. Oh!  Where do you turn in when you want to kick up your heels a bit?  Madame Tussaud’s?  I say, why on earth didn’t you talk to that old bloke next to you at dinner?  He was trying all he knew to be friendly.

Culch. Was he?  I daresay.  But I rather understood we came out with the idea of keeping out of all that.