Tuesday.—­This morning Lieutenant von Schornstein, while walking in Brewer’s Alley, trod on a piece of banana-skin and fell heavily on the pavement.  As he rose he observed that two small boys were, so he alleged, laughing at him.  He immediately ran after the two urchins, and was proceeding to put them to the sword when the Brewery men interfered and disarmed him.  He pleaded that his uniform had been insulted and that it was necessary for him to punish them. “Ich muss sie durch den Leib rennen” were his words.  The men, however, were not inclined to admit the force of this plea, especially as they understood no German, and they sent him back to barracks in a taxi-cab.  The Mayor at once wired his apologies to the Colonel, and it is hoped that nothing further will be heard of the incident.  I ought to add that the boys deny that they laughed, but the lieutenant is certain that they wore a smiling expression.

The “Friendship Banquet” was held this evening in the Town Hall, with the Mayor in the chair.  No very great enthusiasm was shown, and when the Mayor, in proposing the health of our visitors, alluded to the friendly rivalry of the two nations in commerce and the arts of peace, the Colonel pulled him back into his seat and begged him not to proceed. “Maul halten,” he said.  The three Labour members of the Council were afterwards arrested for not having joined with sufficient heartiness in the singing of “Deutschland ueber Alles.”

Wednesday.—­A state of siege has been declared in Dartlebury, and we are all living under martial law.  Lord Gruffen was arrested for having knocked up against a soldier.  The magistrates, on leaving the police-court, were handcuffed and removed to barracks.  A crisis is evidently approaching.

Thursday.—­An insurrection started this morning.  A huge crowd attacked the barracks and overpowered all resistance.  Blood flowed like water, but in an hour all was over.  There is a strong feeling that the experiment of the Alliance Committee was a rash one, though no doubt it was well meant.  We live and learn.

* * * * *

LOOP!  LOOP!!

(A STORY OF AERIAL PROWESS IN THE PROVINCES.)

  They said, “He goes a-tumbling through the hollow
    And trackless empyrean like a clown,
  Head pointed to the earth where weaklings wallow,
    Feet up toward the stars; not such renown
  Even our lord himself, the bright Apollo,
    Gets in his gilded car.  For one bob down
      You shall behold the thing.”  “Right-o,” I said,
      Clapping the old brown bay leaves on my head.

  So to the hangars.  Time, about eleven,
    The air full chill, the ground a mess of muck,
  And long time gazed I on the wintry heaven
    And thought of many a deed of Saxon pluck;
  How DRAKE, for instance, good old DRAKE of Devon,
    Played bowls at Plymouth Hoe.  Twelve-thirty struck. 
      No one had vaulted through the air’s abyss;
      DRAKE would have plunged tail up an hour ere this.