"Only last evening I was passing through one of our main thoroughfares, and saw seven or eight Territorials taking refreshment in the backbone. I ask in fairness, Is this the backbone. I ask in fairness, is this patriotic?" In fairness we reply. It is neither. * * * * * "The old Latinist has it, 'Deos vult pedere prius dementas.'" _Manx Chronicle._ How one's Latin slips from one with advancing age! But he must have been very old. * * * * * "The Scheldt can easily be damned."--_Daily Chronicle._ So can the KAISER, but it isn't enough to say so. * * * * * Illustration: _Ex-Teuton (to landlady)._ "ACH! MADAME, EET IS ALL RIGHT! I VOS ENGLEESH NOW! I HAVE TO-DAY MEIN PAPERS OF NATIONALIZATION TO YOUR HOME OFFICE SENT OFF. DERE VOS SEVERAL OATHS BY HALF-A-DOZEN PEOPLES TO BE SVORN. IT VOS A TREMENDOUS AFFAIRS!" * * * * * THE HEROES. Once upon a time, many years ago--how many I cannot say, but certainly it must have been before the Christian era--there lived a sublime Emperor. After being for long the warmest, if platonic, friend of Peace, and forcing the world to listen to his loud protestations of fidelity, he suddenly surprised his hearers by declaring war. It was shortly after the opening of hostilities that he was seated on his throne presenting awards of merit to the bravest of his brave soldiers. The hall was filled with martial enthusiasm, and the memorable scene was one in which splendour, animation and the confidence of rectitude were equally notable. The Emperor's noble Vizier, to whose massive mind treaties were of no more consequence than waste paper, stood at the side of his Imperial Master to act as introducer of the gallant soldiers whose exploits (with which the world was ringing) it had been decided to reward although so early in the campaign--_pour encourager les autres_. "The first decorations," remarked the Vizier, "are for deeds of signal courage." He motioned to a stalwart warrior. "This noble son of the Empire," he said, "with his own bow shot six non-combatants within as many minutes." Loud cheers rent the air. "Three of them," the Vizier continued, "were women." Louder cheers. "The other three were old men over seventy." Immense enthusiasm. "This determined hacker-through," the Vizier continued, as another giant stood forth, "shot an unarmed priest." More enthusiasm. "And," added the Vizier, "burned his temple." Amid the plaudits of the flower of the Stale the monarch affixed the cherished tokens to the heroes' breasts. "My Braves!" he exclaimed. "In the name of the Fatherland I thank you." Another warrior stepped out and saluted. "And what, my friend," asked the monarch, "did you do?" "Nothing, Sire," he replied with the unaffected simplicity of the man of action; "I merely stamped on some little children--twins, I think."