"Certainly. And you might say this. I am convinced we are going to win. No good could ever come to a man who wears an out-of-date moustache like the KAISER.... Oh, certainly I am in favour of the War. Why, I have just ordered several pairs of khaki spats.... Believe me, I wish our soldier-fellows well, and in my opinion they ought to be encouraged. I met a lot of 'em trudging along in Pall Mall yesterday, poor devils of Territorials, I fancy, and I waved my stick to 'em. Nothing would please me more than to see the country to which that impudent manicurist has returned receive a thrashing." Just then the young man who had opened the door to me came in and asked his master if he could see him privately for a minute. Mr. FitzJenkins begged me to excuse him, and I did so. When he came back his face was flushed and almost animated. "Atrocious! Infamous! I shall write to the papers about it," he said. "How dare he leave me helpless like this? Off to enlist, indeed!" "Who?" I asked. "My man," said Mr. FitzJenkins. * * * * * Illustration: ENTERPRISE ON OUR EAST COAST. THE ANTI-ZEPPELIN BATH-CHAIR. * * * * * TO A JADED GERMAN PRESSMAN. ["One cannot receive news of victories every day."--_German Official Newspaper._] True, as you say, there is no cause for grieving, When in your pages no triumphs appear, But, gentle Sir, when you talk of "receiving," Are you not wandering out of your sphere? Yours not to wait for a foe's retrogression, Yours not to heed the belligerents' fate; You're higher up in the writer's profession; Perish "receiving," 'tis yours to create. What though you dabble in newspaper diction, Common reporters deserve your disdain; You should be ranked with the masters of fiction, Weaving your victories out of your brain. Stories are needed, and you must supply 'em; That should be easy; so gifted a man Surely can compass a triumph _per diem_, Seeing the truth is no part of your plan. Even although inspiration is flagging, Let not your output grow markedly less; Fiction gives precedents (plenty) for dragging Out an old yarn in a different dress. But, if your brain is too weary for spinning Words to re-tell our habitual rout, Don't blame the army that hasn't been winning; Frankly confess that you feel written out. * * * * * "London Lady (twenties) well-educated, fair linguist, deeply interested in psychology and the things that matter in life, considered clever by inmates, but not brilliant, would greatly appreciate broadminded and friendly companion to share walks." _T. P.'s Weekly._ We must remember that the inmates' standard would not be a very high one. * * * * * Illustration: _First Native._ "WE'RE DOIN' FINE AT THE WAR, JARGE." _Second Native._ "YES, JAHN; AND SO BE THEY FRENCHIES."