"Agreed! agreed!" cried the peace-makers. But the minority were out for a division and insisted on taking it. Resulted in leave being given by majority of four to one, a conclusion hailed with renewed outburst of cheering. _Business done._--Leave given by 403 votes against 105. PRIME MINISTER brought in Military Service Bill. * * * * * [Illustration: "Want to do your bit, my lad?" "Of c-c-c-c-c-c-c-course I d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-do." "Then take my advice and join the machine-gun section."] * * * * * "The holder of an Exchequer Bond for L100 will receive L100 on December 1st, 1910, and will in the meantime receive L5 per annum in interest."--_Evening Paper._ The new security seems to have a brilliant future behind it. * * * * * "The bride, who was given away by her father, wore a dress of pale bridegroom. She was attended by the hat, and carried a bouquet, the gift of the pink taffeta silk and a large dark blue bridegroom's two little nieces." _Kentish Mercury._ What colour was the bridegroom? * * * * * "The last paragraph in Mr. A. F. Dunnett's letter, appearing in our issue of the 14th inst., contained an obvious error. 'Nathan's vineyard' should, of course, have been 'Nabob's vineyard.'" _Daily Gleaner (Kingston, Jamaica)._ Of course--where the pickles grow. * * * * * "Sergeant Capes saw the fowls in a crater on Castle-hill. On the crater being opened two of them were almost dead, and others were exhausted, and could scarcely stand." _Nottingham Evening Post._ No doubt overcome by the gas. * * * * * [Illustration: _Tradesman._ "Are you insuring against Zeppelins for the New Year?" _Householder._ "Well, I'm thinking of it, as I remember reading in the last raid how they dropped seventeen bombs in one area. I wonder they don't get hit, standing still all that time in the air."] * * * * * THE SORROWFUL SNIPER. I'm un'appy, so I am. Don't enjoy me beef nor jam, An' I'm grumpy an' as 'umpy as a camel. Bin an' stopped my leave? Oh no! _That_ was fixed up long ago; But the trouble is, I've got it, an' I feel afeared to go, An' it's all alonger tin o' green enamel. Fancy spendin' New Year's Eve, when you oughter be on leave, In a dugout where the damp is slowly tricklin', All alonger tin o' green an' a sniper lank an' lean 'Oo was swearin' an' a-strafin' an' a-snipin' in between, Till the Sergeant told me off to stop 'is ticklin'. So I trimmed meself with straw, an' a grass an' hay coffyure, An' I clothed meself with faggots that a pal 'ad; Then the Sergeant got a brush an' some green an' sticky slush, An' 'e plastered me all over till I couldn't raise a blush, And I looked jest like a vegetable salad.