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Page 2
***
An egg weighing nine-and-a-half ounces has been laid at Bayonne,
France. It looks like a walk-over unless _The Spectator_ has something
up its sleeve.
***
"One hears the crying of the new-born lambs on all sides," writes a
Nature correspondent. On the other hand the unmistakable bubbling note
of the mint-sauce will not be heard for another month or so.
***
Will the A.S.C. private who in 1917 was ordered to take a mule to
Sutton Coldfield please note that the animal has been sighted in
California still chewing an army tunic, but the badges are missing?
***
"So many letters are being lost in the post nowadays," states a
daily paper, "that drastic action should be taken in the matter." We
understand that the POSTMASTER-GENERAL has expressed his willingness
to be searched.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Hygienist_. "FEELING THE COLD, EH? AHA--LOOK AT ME. I
DON'T KNOW WHAT COLD IS."
_Normal Individual_. "THEN N-NATURALLY YOU D-DON'T FEEL IT."]
* * * * *
A VULNERABLE SPOT.
"Lady, a word--but oh, beware!
And prithee do not slight it--
If you will have your back so bare,
Someone is sure to bite it."
* * * * *
"An official of the Coal Controller's Department said that
everything possible would be done to relieve the situation.
'No stone will be left unturned,' he said, 'to ease the
position.'"--_Daily Paper_.
This accounts, no doubt, for the stuff in our last half-hundredweight.
* * * * *
A JUNKER INTERLUDE.
Once more the Militant Mode recurs
With clank of sabre and clink of spurs;
Once more the long grey cloaks adorn
The bellicose backs of the high-well-born;
Once more to the click of martial boots
Junkers exchange their grave salutes,
Taking the pavement, large with side,
Shoulders padded and elbows wide;
And if a civilian dares to mutter
They boost him off and he bites the gutter.
Down by the Brandenburger Thor
Kitchens are worked by cooks of war;
Loyal moustaches cease to sag,
Leaping for joy of the old war-flag;
Drums are beating and bugles blare
And passionate bandsmen rip the air;
Prussia's original ardour rallies
At the sound of _Deutschland �ber alles_,
And warriors slap their fighting pants
To the tune _Heil dir im Siegeskranz_.
Life, in a word, recalls the phase
Of the glorious Hohenzollern days.
What if a War's meanwhile occurred
And talk of a humbling Peace been heard?
Treaties are meant to be torn in two
And wars are made to be fought anew.
_Hoch_! for the _Tag_, by land and main,
When the Monarchy comes to its own again.
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