"Well?" "Then," said Celia firmly, "if he were a gentleman he would give it to us." Very well. Now we shall see if Mr. Barlow is a gentleman. A. A. M. * * * * * Correspondence. "Equal Rights" writes:-- "Dear Sir,--Why are descriptive names confined to boxers, such as Bombardier Wells and Gunboat Smith? Why not Rifleman Redmond, Airman Churchill, Solicitor George, Golfer Asquith, Bushman Wilding, Trundler Hitch, Dude Alexander, Bandsman Beecham, Hunger-Striker Pankhurst? Or, to take Editors----" [The rest of this communication is omitted owing to considerations of space.--Ed.] * * * * * WHEN THE SHIPS COME HOME. [Illustration: Greece. "ISN'T IT TIME WE STARTED FIGHTING AGAIN?" Turkey. "YES, I DARESAY. HOW SOON COULD YOU BEGIN?" Greece. "OH, IN A FEW WEEKS." Turkey. "NO GOOD FOR ME. SHAN'T BE READY TILL THE AUTUMN".] * * * * * [Illustration: "We're giving our pastor a new drawing-room carpet on the occasion on his jubilee. Show me something that looks nice but isn't too expensive." "Here is the very thing, Madame--real Kidderminister."] * * * * * EGYPT IN VENICE. "_La Legende de Joseph._" Those who know the kind of attractions that the Russian ballet offers in so many of its themes could have easily guessed, without previous enlightenment, what episode in the life of Joseph had been selected for illustration last week at Drury Lane. But they could never have guessed that Herr Tiessen, author of a shilling guide to the intentions of the composer, would attach a transcendental significance to the conduct of _Potiphar's Wife_. "Through the unknown divine," he informs us, "which is still new and mysterious to her, an imperious desire awakens in her to fathom, to possess this world"--the world, that is to say, which _Joseph's_ imagination creates in the course of an exhibition dance. If this is so, I can only say that her behaviour is strangely misleading. The scene opens at a party given by _Potiphar_ in Venice. Venice, of course, was not _Potiphar's_ home address; and I marvel a little at the change of _venue_ when I think how much more harmony could have been got out of an Egyptian setting. But then I remind myself that the Russian ballet is nothing if not _bizarre_. The long banqueting-table recalls the canvases of Veronese, but with discordant notes of the Orient and elsewhere. _Potiphar_ himself, seated on a dais, has the air of an Assyrian bull. By his side _Mme. Potiphar_ wears breeches ending above the knee, with white stockings and high clogs.