[Illustration: L'ENFANT TERRIBLE.

YOUNG TURK. "I WILL FIGHT TO THE DEATH FOR OUR NATIONAL HONOUR."

OLD TURK. "WELL, IF YOU MUST. BUT I WASH MY HANDS OF THE WHOLE BUSINESS--
UNLESS, OF COURSE, YOU WIN."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Golfer_. "WHAT'S THE MATTER, SANDY? AREN'T YOU GOING TO
PLAY THIS AFTERNOON?"

_Sandy_. "MAN, HAVE YOU NOT HEARD? I'VE LOST MA BALL."]

* * * * *

ELIZABETH GOES TO THE SALES.

"Are you goin' to the Summer Sales this year, 'm?" inquired Elizabeth,
suddenly projecting herself on the horizon of my thoughts.

I laid down my pen at once. It is not possible to continue writing if
Elizabeth desires to make conversation at the same time.

"Certainly I shall, if I hear of a sale of cheap crockery," I replied
pointedly; "ours badly needs replenishing."

The barbed arrow did not find its mark. It may require a surgical operation
to get a joke into a Scotsman, but only the medium of some high explosive