As a matter of fact I have an even stronger line of argument if I choose to take it.  I can put in a counter-claim.  One of the principal attractions of old furniture, after all, is historic association.  There is the armchair, you know, that Dr. JOHNSON sat in, and the inkpot, or whatever it was, that MARY, Queen of Scots, threw at JOHN BUNYAN or somebody, and I have also seen garden-seats carved out of famous battleships.  And then again, if you go to Euston, or it may be Darlington, you will find on the platform the original tea-kettle out of which GEORGE WASHINGTON constructed the first steam-engine.  The drawing-room furniture that we are relinquishing combines the interest of all these things.  If I like I can put a placard on the sofa, before I take its owner to see it, worded something like this:—­

“Puffing Billy, the original steam-roller out of which this elegant piece was carved, held the 1920 record for fourteen trips to Brighton and back within half-an-hour.”  And after he has seen that I can lead him gently on to Roaring Rupert, the arm-chair.  Really, therefore, when one comes to consider it, the man owes me a considerable sum of money for the enhanced sentimental value that has been given to his commonplace property.

Mind you, I have no wish to be too hard on him.  I shall be content with a quite moderate claim, or even with no claim at all.  Possibly, now I come to think of it; I shall simply say,

“You know what it is to have a couple of bally kids about the place.  What shall I give you to call it square?”

And he will name a sum and offer me a cigarette, and we shall talk a little about putting or politics.

But it doesn’t much matter.  Whatever he asks he can only put it down in the receipts’ column of his account-book under the heading of “Depreciation of Furniture,” whereas in my expenses it will stand as “Richard and Priscilla:  for Adventures, Travel and Romance.”

EVOE.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  A ST. PATRICK’S DAY DREAM

(MARCH 17).

THE IDYLLIST OF DOWNING STREET (with four-leaved shamrock).  “SHE
LOVES ME!  SHE—­BUT PERHAPS I’D BETTER NOT GO ANY FURTHER.”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Visitor.  “AND HOW IS YOUR NEWLY-MARRIED DAUGHTER?”

Mrs. Brown.  “OH, SHE’S NICELY THANK YOU.  SHE FINDS HER HUSBAND A BIT DULL; BUT AS I TELLS HER, THE GOOD ’UNS ARE DULL.”]

* * * * *

WINTER SPORT IN THE LOWER ALPS.

About two months ago, after a course of travel literature and some back numbers of The Badminton Magazine, I became infected with a desire to spend a winter in the Alps, skating, sliding, curling and yodelling in the intervals of ski-ing, skijoring, skilacking and skihandlung.  The very names of the pastimes conjured up a picture of swift and healthy activity.  As the pamphlets assured me, I should return a new man; and, though I am greatly attached to the old one, I recognised that improvement was possible.