(4) If any person offers resistance to this procedure he or she will be nailed to the statue by the Municipal nail-driver as a warning to others. A large _iron_ nail will be used for this purpose, the charge for which will be added to the death-duties. (5) It is unpatriotic and un-German to use bad language when driving in nails. However, in view of the well-known tenderness of the human heart and the high state of nervous tension in which many persons of an ardent patriotic disposition may be expected to perform this supreme act of symbolic devotion, those who drive in iron nails will be allowed to swear once for each nail, or seven times for half-a-dozen nails, whilst a higher proportion of swear words will be allowed for silver and gold nails, on the progressive lines laid down in (2). (6) Anyone exceeding the patriotic limit of bad language will be dealt with by the Municipal nail-driver as in (4). (7) Classes of instruction in nail-driving will be held in the Town-hall daily between 10 and 11 A.M. (Sundays excepted). (8) Persons who wish to be photographed in the act of nail-driving must give notice to the Municipal photographer two days in advance. The cost of the photograph will naturally be in inverse proportion to the value of the nail which is driven in. * * * * * [Illustration: "Bejabers! If you're gettin' on, I'm gettin' off!"] * * * * * "Hon. John Fellowes Wallop, of Barton House, Morchard Bishop, brother and heir-presumptive of the Earl of Portsmouth, entered his 57th pear on Monday." _Western Times._ We congratulate him on his digestion. * * * * * NIGHT OPERATIONS. "Storm or no storm," said Charles, "as a medical man I can't stick this fug any longer." He disappeared behind the heavy anti-Zepp curtains and opened the window. A piercing draught caught the back of Bill's neck and he sat up. "Look here," he said crossly, "this is no night for a poor Special to go out in. Can't I send a medical certificate instead?" "You cannot," replied Charles. "I will not be a party to such evasions." "It's pouring with rain and blowing a gale. No Zepp ever hatched would come over to-night." "That's not the point, Bill." Kit unexpectedly opened one eye. "How are Charles and I to sleep soundly in our warm beds unless we know you're outside, guarding us?" "That's right," growled Bill. "Hub it in. Your turn to-morrow, anyway." The other two sang the praises of bed in fervent antistrophe till at last Bill rose with a groan and assumed his overcoat, badge and truncheon. He stopped at the door. "Charles," said he, "if after this night's work I die of bronchial catarrh, unzepp'd, unhonoured and unsung----" "Good night, dear old thing," interposed Charles sweetly. "Run away and play, there's a good child; Uncle's tired." He disappeared to bed.