He might miss the station for which he had booked!'
"Well," he concluded, "that is my case. But I can never put it before the public myself. My pride would not permit me. Though, if someone—yourself, for instance—would present my claims to redress—"
I couldn't help thinking that he had been hardly treated, and so I undertook to do what I could for him. He gave me his verses, also his name, which latter I have unfortunately forgotten. However, I hope I have redeemed my promise here in other respects.
There are times when I wonder uneasily whether he may not have been pulling my leg. But, after all, he could have had no possible object in doing that. Besides, if, the next time you travel by the L. & N.-W., you will study the printed instructions in your compartment, I fancy you will agree with me that they corroborate his statements to a rather remarkable extent.
F. A.
A Christmas Trifle.
"Some stale sponge cake is cut in slices less than an inch thick, and these are spread generously with jam and arranged on a crystal dish, blanched and chopped with Clara and Jo and all their young cousins."—The Bulletin.