He. “IT BE AS MUCH AS I CAN DO TO KEEP UP WITH IT AS ’TIS.”]

* * * * *

    A SUPERFLUOUS ANNOUNCEMENT.

    “The Government have found it impossible to proceed with the Government
    of Ireland before the Autumn Session.”—­Daily Paper.

* * * * *

    “Clerk (Junior) Wanted for Spinners’ Office, age 1617.—­Yorkshire
    Paper.

“Junior,” we take it, is a misprint.

* * * * *

EDWARD AND THE B.O.F.

It was the first Sunday of the season, and the select end of Folkesbourne revealed in each carefully curled geranium leaf, in each carefully-combed blade of grass, the thought and labour expended by the B.O.F. (Borough of Folkesbourne).

Upon the greensward stood orderly rows of well-washed chairs, each with B.O.F. neatly stencilled upon its back.  On this day, however, and at this hour (12.30 P.M.) scarce a B.O.F. was visible; each was hidden by a well-dressed visitor.  And between the orderly rows of well-dressed visitors paraded orderly pairs of superbly-dressed visitors.

I was standing at the corner by the steps leading to the lower parade and thence to the beach and the rocks where the common people (myself on week-days, for instance) go to paddle with their children.  I was wearing my new pale-grey suit which cost—­but you will know more or less what it cost; I need not labour an unpleasant subject—­and I was actually talking at the time to a member of the B.O.F.

“This is Peace at last,” he was saying; “the place really begins to look—­”

It was at this moment that Edward appeared.  His route was the very centre of the lawn.  He was wearing a battered Panama hat, a much-darned brownish jersey, and his nether man—­or rather boy, for Edward’s years are but four—­was encased in paddling drawers made of the same material as a sponge-bag.  Black sand-shoes completed his outfit, and a broken shrimping-net trailed behind him.  At the moment when Edward first caught my horrified eye a particularly well-groomed young gentleman of about his own age caught Edward’s eye in turn.  Edward paused to survey this silken wonder with interest.  Then, as if prompted thereto by the sight, he snatched off his hat and, casting it upon the ground, kicked it vigorously across the grass.

The removal of the hat was the last straw, for Edward’s hair is provocatively red.  My friend of the B.O.F. advanced towards him with the intention of exerting authority and restoring discipline.  Edward turned at the sound of a stern voice.  Possibly he might have put out his tongue—­you never know with Edward.  But, what was worse, far worse, he saw me.  With a glad cry of “Daddy” he rushed to me and, regardless of the fact that his front was covered with green slime, the result of going ventre a pierre over the rocks, he flung his arms round my legs.