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December 16, 1914.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

497

"I met a man in a motor-'bus," he said in a quiet voice, "who told me that he had four sons. The eldest son, Abraham, had a dog who used to go and visit the three brothers occasionally. The dog, my informant told me, was very unwilling to go over the same ground twice, and yet being in a hurry wished to take the shortest journey possible. How did he manage it?"

For a little while the company was puzzled. Then, after deep thought, the Professor said:

"It depends on where they lived."

"Yes," said Ellison. I forgot to say that my acquaintance drew me a map." He produced a paper from his pocket. Here it is."

Fig. 4.—To illustrate the journey of the sagacious hound.

The others immediately began to puzzle over the answer, Miss Phipps being unusually foolish, even for her. It was some time before they discovered the correct route. What do you think it is?

"Well," said the Squire, with a hearty laugh, "it's time for bed."

One by one they filed off, saying what a delightful evening they had had. Jack Ellison was particularly emphatic, for the beautiful Miss Holden had promised to be his wife. He, for one, will never forget Christmas at Happy-Thought Hall.

[Note.—The originals of the drawings are on sale from the Author at five guineas apiece.]

A. A. M.

Little Tomkins (to Herculean Coalheaver). Why don't you come up the green a couple o' nights a week an' do a bit o' shootin' an' drillin'? You'd get as fit as a fiddle."

STABLE INFORMATION.

Last winter I wasn't familiar with Brown, Our intercourse didn't extendPast a grunt if we met on the journey to town And a nod when I chose to unbend;But times are mutata, and now I've begun To cultivate Brown more and moreFor Brown has a son who is friends with the son Of a man at the Office of War.

When a fog is concealing how matters progress And editors wearily use(Upholding the goodly repute of the Press) A headline from yesterday's news,Brown's knowledge enables his friends to decide What the future is holding in store,For we gather that Kitchener loves to confide In that man at the Office of War.

And I in my turn spread the tidings about; To the heart that is apt to be glumAnd the spirit that suffers severely from doubt Like a sunbeam in winter I come;"The Teuton," I whisper, "will suffer eclipse In the course of a fortnight—no more;I have had it—well, almost direct from the lips Of the Chief of the Office of War."