The _Almanach de Bouverie Street_, however, informs us that the ever-frowning WAR LORD derives from the monarch of the rocky brow, who counted his men by nations at break of day, and when the sun set where were they? If the Hohenxerxes family are still on the look-out for places in the sun, they will find their ancestral homes for the most part unoccupied in the sufficiently arid regions around Ecbatana and Persepolis, now crying aloud for Kultur and Kraut. We are still waiting to hear that VON HAFIZ and OMAR ZU KHAYYAM, as well as SHAKSPEARE, have been proved to be Germans, and that the Herr WOLFF of the Berlin Lie Bureau traces back to the foster-mother of ROMULUS--and Romance. * * * * * ULTIMATUM. _Mr. Punch_ begs to remind the 1,793 correspondents who have lately sent him delightful plays upon the word "wet" [DE WET the man and "de wet" the rain (ha-ha)] that the same idea had already occurred to 15,825 correspondents during the Boer War. Time is a great healer, but twelve years is not long enough. * * * * * Mr. C. G. GREY writes in _The Daily Express_ on the Freidrichshafen air-raid:-- "The raid itself was one of those simple affairs which might have been done by any aviator possessing skill and pluck, only fortunately for these three officers nobody else did it." And the disparaging comment was one of those simple affairs which might have been done by any journalist possessing ---- and ----, only fortunately nobody else did it. * * * * * THE FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. Waking at six, I lie and wait Until the papers come at eight. I skim them with an anxious eye Ere duly to my bath I hie, Postponing till I'm fully dressed My study of the daily pest. Then, seated at my frugal board, My rasher served, my tea outpoured, I disentangle news official From reams of comment unjudicial, Until at half-past nine I rise Bemused by all this "wild surmise," And for my daily treadmill bound Fare eastward on the underground. But, whether in the train or when I reach my dim official den, Placards designed to thrill and scare Affront my vision everywhere, And double windows can't keep out The newsboy's penetrating shout. For when the morning papers fail The evening press takes up the tale, And, fired by furious competition, Edition following on edition, The headline demons strain and strive Without a check from ten till five, Extracting from stale news some phrase To shock, to startle or amaze, Or found a daring innuendo-- All swelling in one long crescendo, Till, shortly after five o'clock, When business people homeward flock, From all superfluous verbiage freed Comes JOFFRE'S calm laconic screed, And all the bellowings of the town Quelled by the voice of Truth die down, Enabling you and me to win Twelve hours' release from Rumour's din.