* * * Illustration: _The Thinker._ "YOU SAY THIS WAR DON'T AFFECT YOU: BUT 'OW, INSTEAD OF A BRITISH COPPER SAYIN', 'GIT AHT OF IT,' WOULD YER LIKE ONE O' THEM GERMAN JOHNDARMS TO KEEP PRODDIN' AT YER WIF 'IS BAYNIT?" * * * * * The Gibraltar Manner. "GIBRALTAR LIFE NORMAL. Ladies Making Garments." * * * * * THE TWO GERMANIES. Marvellous the utter transformation Of the spirit of the German nation! Once the land of poets, seers and sages, Who enchant us in their deathless pages, Holding high the torch of Truth, and earning Endless honour by their zeal for learning. Such the land that in an age uncouther Bred the soul-emancipating LUTHER. Such the land that made our debt the greater By the gift of _Faust_ and _Struwwelpeter_. * * * Now the creed of NIETZSCHE, base, unholy, Guides the nation's brain and guides it solely. Now MOZART'S serene and joyous magic Yields to RICHARD STRAUSS, the hæmorrhagic.[1] Now the eagle changing to the vulture Preaches rapine in the name of culture. Now the Prussian _Junker_, blind with fury, Claims to be God's counsel, judge and jury. While the authentic German genius slumbers, Cast into the limbo of back numbers. [Footnote 1: Great play is made in STRAUSS'S _Elektra_ with the "slippery blood" motive.] * * * * * The Late "Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse." _First Student of the War._ Why did they call it "Kaiser William the Grocer?" _Second Student._ Don't know. I should have described him as a Butcher. * * * * * "PETROGRAD. NEW NAME FOR THE RUSSIAN CAPITAL. PETROGRAUD (St. Petersburg), Tuesday. By Imperial order, the city of St. Petersburg will henceforth be known as Petrograu." _Evening Standard._ It looks more like three new names. * * * * * _Q._ I hear the Sugar Refiners are raising cane? _A._ That's because they haven't yet got the German beet. [_Awarded Gold Medal and Banana Skin for worst joke of the war._] * * * * * FOR THE RED CROSS. Ye that have gentle hearts and fain To succour men in need, There is no voice could ask in vain, With such a cause to plead-- The cause of those that in your care, Who know the debt to honour due, Confide the wounds they proudly wear, The wounds they took for you. Out of the shock of shattering spears, Of screaming shell and shard, Snatched from the smoke that blinds and sears, They come with bodies scarred, And count the hours that idly toll, Restless until their hurts be healed, And they may fare, made strong and whole, To face another field.