And all those burglars on the stair;
I shouldn't turn a tiny hair
At such Victorian stuff;
You only have to say instead,
"There is an Earwig in Your Bed"
And that will be enough.
A.P.H.
MY RIGHT-HAND MAN.
On glancing the other day through the only human column of my newspaper—that headed "Personal"—I was much intrigued by the advertisement of a gentleman who styled himself a "busy commercial magnate," and who announced his urgent need of a "right-hand man." The duties of the post were not particularised, but their importance was made clear by the statement that "any salary within reason" would be paid to a really suitable person.