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Upper Tooting, 21st July, 1914.

,—I must tell you about an extraordinary occurrence. They were all quite respectable people, indeed most respectable. Perhaps I ought not to include Mr. Jones. He is, you know (I mention this in the strictest confidence, dearest), he is not—well, you know, he hardly belongs to our set. I cannot understand why James is so absurdly fond of him.

It was my At Home day last week and quite a lot of people, really nice people too, came in spite of the heat. The heat may have had something to do with it, but I really cannot think what it was.

I handed a plate of bread-and-butter to Miss Niccole. To my surprise she hesitated a moment and then took the plate and handed it to me. When I declined she offered it to Mrs. Fitzroy-Williams-Adamson. You know, dear, she is fourth cousin to a baronet. Then the extraordinary thing occurred. Mrs. Fitzroy-Williams-Adamson took the plate and offered it to Miss Niccole. When Miss Niccole declined it she offered it to Mr. Wildegoose (pronounced Wildergos, you know, dear). Then it was his turn. And so it went on. Really, it was most extraordinary. Nothing like it has ever been known in our family. I really cannot understand it.

Everybody passed the plate, and at last it came to Mr. Jones. He pointed at the top piece of bread-and-butter. Yes, he actually pointed. He then made the following extraordinary remark: "I say, hasn't this broken loose from the bread-pudding, what, what?" Thereupon he pushed it on one side and took the next slice. I was ashamed and mortified for such a thing to happen in my house. Really, it was most extraordinary.

Mr. Allen, the new curate, came in just then. He took the top slice, but I caught him absent-mindedly putting it in a flower-pot. When he saw me looking at him he blushed and started—started eating it, I mean. However, he left most of it, and when everyone was gone I examined it. It was perhaps a little hardened by the sun, but otherwise it was quite a nice piece of bread-and-butter. I cannot understand it at all. The whole thing was really most extraordinary... most extraordinary.

Your ever loving.

Chiswick, 22nd July, 1914.

,—I have just read your most interesting letter,: and I quite agree that the whole occurrence was, as you say, most extraordinary. I mentioned it to George. He says he has no doubt at all that it was really a sound piece of bread-and-butter. I don't know whether the enclosed cutting will help you to understand, but I am sending it. It is from last Saturday's Tooting Argus. Somebody sent it to George.

Your loving.

Problem 3.—A. is paying a call. His hostess offers him bread-and-butter. He notices that the top piece has suffered from the heat. What should A. do?

Answer adjudged correct.—A. should politely take the plate from his hostess, murmuring, "May I offer it to you?" If she refuses he should offer it to his nearest neighbour. When the offending slice has been got rid of in this way he can help himself to the next slice and then return the plate to its owner.

Highly commended.—A. should explain to his hostess that he has a peculiar hobby, to wit, collecting slices of bread-and-butter from the houses of the great. His collection of Royal Family slices is unrivalled. Might he have the pleasure and honour of adding to his collection this dainty specimen? He should then reverently fold the slice in two and place it in his breast-pocket.

[Our only objection to this is that it seems a rather greasy thing to do.]

Incorrect answers:—(1) A. should make a facetious remark, such as, "Hasn't this escaped from the bread pudding?" He should then playfully but firmly push the slice aside and trust to luck on the next.

(2) A. must out of courtesy to his hostess accept thankfully whatever she places before him. Any other course of conduct would be an affront. It now however becomes his personal property and he can adopt whichever of the following courses is most con-venient—

(a) Secrete it in a fancy flower-pot or in the gramophone.

(b) If the dog is a silent eater hold it behind his back so that the dog may get it.

.—If the dog refuses to touch it, say loudly, "I cannot understand how any animal can decline such delightful bread-and-butter." He can then openly dispose of it in the grate or the waste-paper-basket on the ground that the dog's nose has vitiated its freshness.

 

hath a roving eye,
 * Palest blue—a candid feature

Which informs the passer-by
 * Phyllis is a flighty creature;

Golden locks and fair complexion Also point in that direction.

I, who had arranged to be
 * Joined to Phyllis by the vicar,

Now that she has jilted me
 * Scorn to seek relief in liquor

Or the tears that folk are shedding (Having missed a swagger wedding).

He who stole my love away
 * Cannot hope for long survival,

And I pity him to-day
 * As I did a former rival

Who believed her single-hearted When my own flirtation started.



"'The Imperial yacht with the Tsar and Imperial Family on board steamed through the British lines yesterday, afterwards lunching on the British flagship.' Bombay Chronicle."

Of the Rose Walk at Purley:—

"'Then the material loveliness becomes the diaphanous veil through which glint realities of which all phenomena are expressions.' Croydon Advertiser & Surrey County Reporter."

"'His memory and his noble face, and reverend crown of snow, will be a green spot, and indelibly written in our minds, whilst life lasts.'—Methodist Recorder."

"'The work of restoring the church tower at Cheriton Bishop has been completed, and Mr. W. Leach has been completed, and Mr. W. Leach has entertained the men engaged on the work at tea.'—Western Morning News."

And so everyone is satisfied.

"'To-day two Greek documents (one of them dated 88 B.C., and supposed to be the earliest document on parchment known) will be sold.' Daily Graphic."

Scholarly letter-writers before the Christian era were always careful to put B.C. after the year.