My servant entered with the coal scuttle and some shavings. This saved my paper. “SAVED”!! I cried. I had a name at last: “Shavings and Scrapes”—original, though slightly Barberous. “Shavings” it is, and “Shavings” it shall be.
As you see, the christening was a private affair, settled au coin du feu.
But for this timely assistance the book would have made a blaze, it is true, and my literary effort would have ended in SMOKE.
J. J.
