THE LETTER.

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, an illustrious man of
affairs--soldier and statesman too--visited our shores, and by his
wise counsels so captured the imagination of his hearers and readers
that one of the greatest of all compliments was paid to him, and
anyone with a black cocker spaniel to name named it after him; and he
had a name rather peculiarly adapted to such ends too.

It chanced that among the puppies thus made illustrious was one which
a young soldier before leaving for France to win the War gave to his
sister, and when writing to him, as, being a good girl, she regularly
and abundantly did, she never omitted to give tidings as to how the
little creature was developing; and I need hardly say that in the
whole history of dogs, from TOBIT'S faithful trotting companion
onwards, there never was a dog so packed with intelligence and
fidelity as this. Most girls' dogs are perfect, but this one was more
remarkable still.

Now it happened that the gallant brother, in the course of his duties
as a war-winner, was moved from place to place so often that he
gradually lost definition, as the photographers say, and the result
was that one of her recent letters failed to catch up with him. That
was a pity, because it was a better letter than usual. It gave all the
news that he would most want to hear. It said what picture her father
was working on at the moment, and told, without spoiling them, his two
last jokes. It said whom her mother had called on and who had called
on her mother and how something must be done to stop her smoking too
many cigarettes. It said that their young brother, having sprained his