3. Which of these has three legs:—(a) A centipede.
(b) A velocipede, (c A cow.
(d) Three ostriches, 4. Is it true that:—
A glazier is a man who runs down mountains.
Bacchus is the god of betting.
A singlet is a young swan.
A polygon is a dead parrot.
5. If some one bought you a: gill of beer, you would expect:—(a) To be asked for a loan.
(b) To faint on the spot.
(c) The other half.
Umbrella Girl I AM very interested in the experiments of a Miss Lillie Stoate, of Florida, who claims she can end droughts by sitting near a lake with her umbrella up, writes Nat Gubbins to the "Sunday Express."
After sitting for three days with her umbrella she was rewarded by a small shower, and the local fruit growers clubed together and gave her £2.
Of course, I am a rain-maker myself, though my methods are the exact opposite.
Constant readers of this colum will remember that I have a private cloud which follows me round the world and causes amazement among foreigners who have neither seen nor heard of rain in that particular locality at that time of the year.
Long experience, however, has taught me how to control my cloud, which is a jealóus god, hungry for sacrifices.
"I know, for instance, that my cloud hates the sight of a light summer suit or a clean motor-r; that it loves to me perspiring in a mackintosh on a hot day.
So, if I want fine weather I drive about in a dirty car or walk about in a mackintosh. If I want rain I put on a light summer suit and have the car washed. It's as simple as that.
The drought of a few summers ago which terrified the farmers and caused panic at the Metropolitan Water Board was attributed to various causes, Newspapers printed columns by experts pointing out that it was an eleven-year cycle, or that the Gulf Stream was hotting up, or that the equator was moving towards the North Pole.
I am now able to reveal that it was caused by my umbrella, Tt was the first (and last) umbrella I have ever owned and my cloud was furious. Denied the pleasure of watching your uncle staggering about in a mackintosh it sulked for three months.
Occasionally it would hover for a while hoping to catch me with my umbrella rolled, but I was always too quick for it. The moment I opened the umbrella in its face it would slink away and. brood over its grievance.
Then one hot afternoon I left my umbrella in a telephone box, l had scarcely taken two strides unprotected (cut me throat if I tell a lie) when my private cloud, calling all other clouds, rolled up, hid the face of the sun, and drenched millions of citizens. On the posters that evening were the words "End of Drought. Official."
If anybody would care to buy me another umbrella and pay me handsomely to carry it about from now to October I could promise you all a fine dry summer—though I might take a bit on the side from the farmers to lose it.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.