toast, generously peppered, and _devoured_. And when his "wish" was
placed on the kitchen-range, swelled rapidly and burst with a loud
report, his cup of happiness was full.

Little Foch, alas, failed to fulfil his youthful promise and became a
common bloater. Worse than that, he was bloated too thoroughly and was
almost impossible to eat. Even his lovely roe, the pride of his heart,
became so salt that the Rector of Chitlings finally rejected it with
ignominy, though not before he had consumed so much of it that he had
to drink the whole of his sermon-water before he began to preach.

But it was Walter, Walter the chronicler, Walter the clever, the
daring, the ambitious, leader in every escapade, adviser in every
difficulty, who was to suffer the crowning humiliation. Walter became
a kipper. If there is one thing that a herring cannot stand it is to
be separated from his roe. Walter's roe was ruthlessly torn from him
and served up separate on toast, with nothing to show that it was
the glorious roe of Walter. It was eaten at the Criterion by a
stockbroker, and it might have been anybody's roe. Meanwhile the
mutilated frame, the empty shell of Walter, was squashed flat in a
wooden box with a mass of others and sold at an auction by the pound.
It broke his heart.

A.P.H.

* * * * *


FLOWERS' NAMES.