So was Bowles.  He was just saying to himself, “Thank heaven I thought of choosing smooth maces.  A spike would have punctured the cover in no time,” when he felt something which made his hair stand on end.

His enemy was fumbling at the lacing of his tunic!

Then poor little Sir Bowles gave himself up for lost and almost swooned away.  He felt the Baron undo the lace and pull out the tube.  There was a perplexed pause....

And just as the Baron was pulling out the valve pin little Mr. Bowles woke with a shriek.

* * * * *

I suppose it was the fact that he had come straight from a symposium on transmigration that made little Bowles imagine he had been recurring to a previous existence.  I myself should have thought that the rules of the game required the reincarnation of Sir Bors to be a rather more bloodthirsty and pugnacious person than our hero; and the sequel seems to prove that little Bowles thought the same.  I think he felt he was not quite the man for this sort of rough work, even in the retrospect of dreams.  Anyway, shortly after his painful experience he withdrew his subscription from the Puddlesby Psychical Society and ceased for ever to assist at their seances.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Wicket-keeper (by way of shewing sympathy to victim of demon bowler).  “RUM GAME, CRICKET.”]

* * * * *

    THE OVERLAND ROUTE.

    “MAIL AND STEAMSHIP NEWS.

    Morea, Bombay for London, at Verseilles, 8th.”—­Scottish Paper.

* * * * *

    “James ——­, a boy of 13, was charged at Belgium, Greece, V and Czecho-
    Slovakia, and pleaded that he took the money because he felt he must
    have some amusement.”—­Evening Paper.

The little Bolshevist!

* * * * *

A “Historic Estate” is announced for sale in the following terms by a contemporary:—­

    “In the Heart of the Albrighton Country, and in direst railway
    communication with Birmingham, Wolverhampton, Manchester, Bristol and
    other northern and western centres.”

Evidently a case where evil communications corrupt good spelling.

* * * * *

From a feuilleton:—­

“Before the podgy dealer knew what had happened, she had sprung right round him, seized the telephone instrument and placed her mouth to the receiver.  She smiled at him defiantly.  ‘Yes, I will,’ she panted.”—­ Daily Paper.

And then, we suppose, she wrote to the POSTMASTER-GENERAL to complain of the inefficiency of the service.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Junior Partner of Firm (exempted on business grounds during the War, interviewing applicant for employment, a demobilised officer, D.S.O., M.C., mentioned twice in despatches and wounded three times).  “YOU SAY YOU WERE THREE-AND-A-HALF YEARS IN FRANCE AND YET DON’T SPEAK THE LANGUAGE?  IT SEEMS TO ME YOU WASTED YOUR TIME ABROAD, SIR.”]