is one asking the applicant, in the interests of identification, to
specify any peculiar skin marks. One lady, with a conscientiousness
not excelled by the actor who blacked himself all over to play
_Othello_, stated that she had only an appendicitis scar.

But I am digressing. Where was I? Oh yes, we were discussing that
great Persian, Allirap Asras. Those authorities who think that he was
a predecessor of BAHRAM, the hunter, are wrong, for there was never
any Persian of the name at all. I am sorry to have deceived you, but
you must blame not me but a certain domestic remedy. If one bright
cart, drawn by a mettled steed and dispensing this medicinal beverage
at a penny a glass, will insist upon being outside Westminster Abbey
and another at the top of Cockspur Street every working day of the
week for ever and ever, how can one help sooner or later spelling its
staple product backwards and embroidering a little on the result?

But what I want to know is--who drinks sarsaparilla, anyway?

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Vague Tommy (writing letter)._ "WOT DAY IS IT?"

_Chorus._ "THE FOURTEENTH."

_Tommy._ "WOT MONTH?"

_Chorus._ "OCTOBER."

_Tommy._ "WOT YEAR?"]