We notice a stray poster which advertises the thrilling romance, _I Hid my Love_. Is the idea that he should elude conscription? or simply Zeppelins? * * * * * Illustration: THE INNOCENT. CROWN PRINCE. "THIS OUGHT TO MAKE FATHER LAUGH!" [In an alleged interview the CROWN PRINCE is reported to have said, "As to being a war agitator, I am truly sorry that people don't know me better. There is no 'War Party' in Germany now--nor has there ever been."] * * * * * Illustration: "---- AND PLEASE GOD MAKE ME A GOOD GIRL AMEN. HOW WOULD IT BE, MOTHER, TO GIVE THE GERMANS CIGARETTES FILLED WITH GUNPOWDER?" * * * * * A RASH ASSUMPTION. On the morning of November 27th I awoke to find my chest covered with a pretty pink pattern. It blended so well with the colour of my pyjama-jacket that for some minutes I was lost in admiration of the pleasing effect. Then it occurred to me that coming diseases cast their rashes before them, and I sprang from the bed in an agony of apprehension. I rushed to the mirror and opened my mouth to look at my tongue. There it was. I took some of it out. It looked quite healthy, so I put it back again. Then I gazed long and earnestly down my throat. It was quite hollow as usual. Next I got the clinical thermometer and sucked it for quite a long time. When I removed it I saw my temperature was about 86. Then I found I was reading it upside down and that I was only normal. I felt disappointed. After that I tried my pulse. It took me some time to locate it, but it hadn't run down; it was still going quite regularly--_andante ma non troppo_, two beats in the bar. I whistled "Tipperary" to it, and it kept perfect time. But still the rash remained. It would neither get out nor get under. I felt perfectly well, and yet I knew I must be ill. I could not understand the complete absence of other symptoms. At last a bright idea struck me. It was just possible that I might refuse food. I knew that would be a symptom. At any rate I would go down to breakfast and see. I dressed rapidly; I simply tore my clothes on to me. I shaved hastily; I literally tore the whiskers out of me. Then I tore down-stairs. On the table was an egg. I removed the lid and looked inside. It was full of evil odours. I refused it. Then I knew for certain I was ill. I tore back to my bedroom and tore off my clothes. I unshaved. I tumbled into bed and tried hard to shiver. I tried so hard that I perspired. As I was really ill I knew that I had to get hot and cold alternately ever so many times. I did my best to live up to all the symptoms I had ever heard of. I tried to get delirious and talk nonsense, but I failed ignominiously. How I cursed my public school education! In my extremity I even endeavoured to imagine that I saw things which were not there....