was one complete set of six smoke balls, so close together that one could almost cover them with a soup plate. Another set had only five. Ah! there was the sixth, a little wide. There had been three perfect groups of six when he and I had been looking at the same thing a few mornings before. Listlessly I watched the black speck. Gradually it grew larger and larger until the big biplane passed overhead. And underneath the Union Jack—painted on the plane. Just the same, thank Heaven, just the same. The flag untouched, each unit which represents that flag carrying on the inexorable work. There is no cessation; there are others; it is war, but—“Will you take over his horse?” ••••• The old bay horse! I wonder if you, too, remember that day at Tattersall’s. Do you remember the hand running over your legs and stopping at that big splint on your off fore? Can you hear again that voice you’ve got to know so well? “Look at those hocks, man; look at that shoulder; that splint may just bring him down to my price.” And do you remember the hunts? Do you
