A woman waits there grimly; Her eyes are set and her lips drawn thin; For Bill, her man, is in the public, Soaking his soul in gin. Students of sociology might do worse than devote careful attention to these gaunt chronicles of Slumland. * * * * * The following stanzas, taken from a poem entitled "Reconstruction," are a favourable example of Mr. Thor Pinmoney's somewhat unequal genius:-- By strife we live, but boredom slays; My mind from out this office strays And takes me back to the spacious days When I counted socks in Ordnance. I hate my pen; I hate my stool; What am I but a nerveless tool? But we did not work by rote or rule When I counted socks in Ordnance.... There are times even now when it really seems I'm back in a suburb of shell-shocked Rheims; But the office echoes my waking screams When I find it was only in my dreams I was counting socks in Ordnance. Unfortunately, all Mr. Pinmoney's efforts do not come up to this standard, and we should be almost inclined to wonder whether the writer has not after all mistaken his vocation, were it not for the really brilliant piece of work which brings the volume (_Pegasus Comes Home_) to a close. We make no apology for reproducing this masterpiece in full:-- Man comes And goes. What then? Who knows? Here we have the whole philosophy of life and the life hereafter summed up. If he never writes another line Mr. Pinmoney is by this assured of a permanent place in the anthology of post-bellum poetry. * * * * * "Replying to the toast of his health, Mr. Lloyd George said it was a great boon that a large industrial community should have been founded amongst these lovely surroundings, a boon not only for the workers, but also for their little children, who would have the advantage of being reared in georgeous mountain air."--_Daily Paper._ Lloyd-Georgeous, in fact. * * * * * [Illustration: MANNERS AND MODES. HORRIBLE NIGHTMARE OF A LADY WHO DREAMS THAT SHE HAS GONE TO A BALL IN HER NIGHT-GOWN AND FOUND HERSELF SHOCKINGLY OVERDRESSED.] * * * * * THE "FIRST HUNDRED" OF LOEB. [The Loeb Classical Library, founded by a munificent American millionaire, Mr. JAMES LOEB (_prononcez_ "Lobe"), and edited by Dr. E. CAPPS, Mr. T. E. PAGE and Dr. W. H. D. ROUSE, has now reached its hundredth volume.] When ways are foul and days are damp, When agitators rage and ramp, And SMILLIE, with the aid of CRAMP, Threatens to rend the globe; When margarine is scarce, or beef, And drinks are dear and few and brief, I find refreshment and relief And comfort in my LOEB.