* * * "Why," asks a lady, "should not waitresses take the place of the German waiters whose services are now being dispensed with?" Possibly we may be wrong, but we seem to remember once having seen an announcement on the placard of a feminist journal to the effect that:-- WOMEN CAN NOT WAIT. * * * Lord ROSEBERY, speaking the other day at Broxburn, said that defeat for us would not mean foreign tax-gatherers in the country. We are glad of this. It would be deplorable if the tax-gatherer were ever to become an unpopular figure with us. * * * * * Illustration: THE HUNTER HUNTED. [With acknowledgments to Mr. J. C. DOLLMAN.] * * * * * The Fog of War. "A final shell struck the Laurel amidship, enveloping her in a dense certainohtstl thesemac recsmscvtm mecevsccvc." _Glasgow Citizen._ * * * * * THE CHALLENGE. "Arthur," I said, "you are not handsome, but you have sterling qualities and know a thing or two." "You are not exactly a mezzotint yourself," Arthur retorted, "and I'm not sure that you have any particular qualities yet. What does this lead up to?" "This," I said. "Suppose you are a sentry, outside barracks or an encampment of some kind." "I'm supposing," he said. "And suppose," I went on, "you don't know me." "I've supposed worse things than that," said Arthur with decision. "And try further," I said, "to imagine that it's a dark night, and I come along and don't notice you. You'd say, 'Halt, who goes there?' wouldn't you?" "I should if I remembered my lines, I suppose." "Very well," I said. "Then I should say, 'Friend.'" "Well," said Arthur, "where's the catch?" "There isn't a catch," I said. "What I want to know is, how do we go on after that?" "I should ask you if you'd got such a thing as a cigarette about you," said Arthur. "You might do that," I said, "but it doesn't sound helpful. The reason I ask is because I've read the instructions several times in the papers on the courtesies to be observed when meeting a sentry; but the scene always ends at this point--'Friend.' What happens next?" "Perhaps the right thing," said Arthur, "would be for you to ask after the Colonel's wife. But I might not let you get as far as that. The odds would be in favour of my not believing you when you said 'Friend,' and in that case I should either shoot or pink you. The choice between these two processes would lie with me." "But wouldn't that be rather sudden? Surely you make another remark first. I seem to remember something about 'sign and countersign.'" "You're thinking of trigonometry, aren't you?" said Arthur. "Perhaps I am," I said. "Anyway it's awkward not knowing what happens next." "I know the best way to find out," said Arthur suddenly. "Get your boots on. We'll go and enlist." * * * * * LEAVES FROM AN IMPERIAL NOTE-BOOK.