all bad. Makes a change, anyway! And, talking of changes, this is where I get out," he concluded as the train drew into a station. "Cheerio I"
Glowing with inward pride, I smiled my farewell to the big man as he got out. I was to learn that my erstwhile ferret friend also left us here, but, generally speaking, I was pretty pleased with life. The public, nay, the Public, actually liked my writing : success was here at last.
As the train pulled out, and I idly flicked over the pages to see what setting my own jewel had been placed in, the man in the corner on my side, who had so far maintained a withdrawn silence, turned to me with a smile.
"You know that story you were talking about?" This, I thought, is getting too coincidental by half: surely this chap can't have read it too ! I took a look at him: a keen, intelligent, face mirrored a pleasant, open sort of character - obviously a man on whose opinion one could rely. I said :
"You mean the one by Edward C. Smith ?" "That's it," he said. "I didn't like to say so when those other chaps were in her, but (he leaned forward confidingly), "as a matter of fact - I wrote it I"
G.M.A.

FAMOUS CONVERSATIONS: NUMBER TWO COUNT AND COUNTESS DRACULA
Count Dracula was in a jugular vein over his breakfast. His wife. Haemophilia, poured out the red corpuscles from the new blue-veined breakfast coffee pot, and passed the artery jar when required.
Periodically the Count emerged from behind the Bloodsuckers' Times to rally his wife, calling her "a spot on the escutcheon", "a sanguinary mess", and other similar endearments. But, unfortunately, she had got out of the wrong side of the corpse that morning, and, striking a convenient pose (which the Draculas always kept convenient at the table), replied to her husband :
"The trouble with you, Dracula, is you're just a sucker! You sit there, complaining that the bacon has low blood pressure and referring to your friends as 'succulent bits'. Why don't you do something useful for a change? Look at Mr Atlas next door! You don't see him lying around in a coffin all day."
"Pah !" said Dracula, pounding the table and upsetting several blood vessels in the process, "don't talk to me about that clot! He's a mere corpuscle-man I"
"There you go again ! Making rude remarks about health and vitality! The trouble with you is you've no ambition. You'll never amount to more than a tumour - you - you thrombosis you !"
"Don't nag, woman !"
"Well, Dracula, you do get me down. I wish you were a little more like Mr Atlas: he's so kind to his wife, and she's a dumb belle if ever there was one."

Roused to anger, Dracula put in his fangs, hailed the butler and shouted :
Fetch me my vampire! I'm going out. There's no peace around this house any more. I'll be home for dinner, unless I'm kept late at the cemetery !"
He banged out of the house, and went down to the local for a bier.
Martinus.

LITERARY COMPETITION WINNERS
WAVELL POETRY:
Dreams - Timothy Hawkins, P7A
JUNIOR POETRY:
The Window - Vincent Martin, IB
JUNIOR SHORT STORY:
Persuasion - Thomas Gemmill, 2A
SENIOR SHORT STORY
Under Canvas And All That - John Sayer, V
SENIOR POETRY:
Waiting - James Pryde, IV

DREAMS
As I lie down in a dark room
My imagination does wander
Crystal houses, silver streams
My senses they do ponder
Sugar train on liquourice rails
Thunders past the School
I run along and jump on
And it falls into a pool
My head goes under - What a sight!
An underwater city
I blink my eye and it is gone
By glory what a pity
I dive back under without a breath
I feel just like a fish
To see the city is my joy
And my only pleasant wish
A city so good, a city so fine
With buildings oh, so frail
The mermaid people whisk about
With golden hair and tail
A water place, a water house
King Neptune on the throne
With a booming voice and Trident spear
The sea-bed he doth own.
Timothy Hawkins, P7A.


A SHELL
Fred found a shell upon the beach.
He put it to his ear -
An unexploded German one.
Now Fred's no longer here.
Bruce Ewan, P7A.