And when I go to buy some francs To see the matter through I find that hereabouts the banks Have raised their prices too.... The farm is Swiss; but then, suppose You place yourself by chance Upon the southern edge, your nose Is trespassing in France. 'Tis here that Hecuba, the hen, In solitude sublime Does business every now and then At half-a-franc a time. Then ought she not (of course she ought) To pause and shift her ground, And lay my egg where francs are bought At fifty to the pound? HENRY. * * * * * From a music-hall advertisement:-- "IMPORTANT NOTICE! OWING TO THE ENORMITY OF THIS PRODUCTION, FIRST HOUSE COMMENCES ... 6.15." _Provincial Paper._ The licensing authority seems to have been caught napping. * * * * * "The interesting announcement is made that Finchale Priory has been handed over to the care of the Society for the Prevention of Ancient Monuments."--_Provincial Paper._ It is suggested that some of the London statues might profitably be handed over to the same body. * * * * * THE PERFECT SCULLERY. I was more than interested in the article "About Bathrooms" which appeared in the columns of _Punch_ of March 31st last, because I too always smoke a pipe in a hot bath, to which I add the habit of reading, not books--they are too sacred to risk--but newspapers. I also frequently indulge in a further luxury at this time, a cup of coffee, which rests on the sponge and soap bridge between sips. Of course the soap sometimes falls into the coffee, and if this is undetected in time a slight frothing at the mouth occurs, but no really serious harm ensues. I tried the effect of pictures round the bath--pictures with a shiver in them that made me pull the water up closer round my neck. But I found that they were being ruined by the steam, so I removed them and am now looking for some undraped but respectable statuettes that will give the same result. I have not tried the rich rug stunt. The only rug we possess which might be so described is a Persian one, and is on our cat at present. When she has done with it I intend to spread it over the only part of the bathroom floor which is permanently dry. And, suffering as our bathroom does from that lack of space which the writer on bathrooms so justly laments, the "profound chair" is out of the question. While his views on bathrooms are sound it seems evident to me that the writer of the _Punch_ article lives in pre-war style--with servants. We don't. Our last maid left us to be a Waac and has not been seen since in the precincts of domestic servitude. I did hear something about her approaching marriage to a Colonel of Hussars, but don't know whether it came off or not.