“At the turn there was another dug-out. ‘’Ave a banana?’ I yells, and out come ten of ’em, cryin’ for mercy.  I took ’em back to what we calls Petticoat Lane and ’ands ’em over and come up again.  But I didn’t get no more barrow-work that day, and my D.C.M. was for them prisoners right enough.  So now you see what I feels like about the fruit business.  It’s like an old pal bein’ done in.”

“I shouldn’t worry too much about it,” I said.  “You’ve each had a bit of a knock-out; but you’ll soon be on your legs again, and so will your barrow, and going strong, both of you.”

* * * * *

SCOTLAND YET.

[Dr. GEORG BIEDENKAPP, writing in the Muenchner Neueste Nachrichten, says that if you examine any famous “Englishman” you find that he really comes from Scotland, to which country he assigns a place with Suabia, Thuringia, and the Hartz Mountains as “a cradle of Kultur and a fountain of first-class genius.”]

  Man Sandy, here’s a German Hun
    Wha thinks he’s on a track
  That nane hae trodden, having fun’
    A new an’ stairtlin’ fac’;
  A’ English thocht he doots is nocht,
    An’ English ways are henious,
  But ah, says he, in Scotland see
    The hame o’ first-class genius.

  New?  Why, my feyther kent it fine,
    An’, Sandy, I’ll be sworn
  The knowledge o’ the fac’ was mine
    Or ever I was born;
  If there be ane wad daur maintain
    The truth is still to settle,
  I haena met the madman yet
    In bonny braw Kingskettle.

  Ay, yon’s a truth that’s kent fu’ weel
    In ilka but an’ ben;
  But I could teach the German chiel
    A truth he doesna ken;
  Gin ye would find the hame o’ mind
    An’ intellectual life, man,
  Ye needna look far frae the Nook,
    The bonny Nook o’ Fife, man.

  Whaur did our good EX-PREMIER go
    Whene’er he wished to swank? 
  To Lunnon?  Edinburgh?  No! 
    He cam’ to Ladybank;
  Nae doot he thocht if there was ocht
    Would put him on his mettle
  ‘Twas meetin’ men o’ brain, ye ken,
    Like us frae auld Kingskettle.

  Fleet Street is fu’ o’ Fifers tae;
    The Cockneys want the views
  O’ men like JOCK MCFARLANE frae
    The Crail and Cupar News;
  For if a chiel can write sae weel
    That you an’ me will read him,
  Why, man, withoot a shade o’ doot
    Lunnon is sure to need him.

  Then tak’ the Army.  What d’ye see? 
    Wha’s chief?  Nae need to tell
  That DOUGLAS HAIG is prood to be
    A Fifer like mesel’;
  An’ weel he may, for truth to say
    There’s something aye aboot us: 
  In ilka trade they want oor aid—­
    They canna win withoot us.

* * * * *

Wedding Fashions, B.C.

    “The bridesmaid was attired in pink carnations.”—­"Daily Colonist,”
    Victoria, British Columbia.