[Illustration: Nose Everything.] According to the _Nichtgeboren Zeitung_, His Imperial Majesty said that, although the sky was apparently cloudless, he recognised dangers a-head. He was willing to put himself forward as the Leader of the toilers. It was their duty to secure the best possible constitution, and then to force that constitution upon all neighbouring people, if needs be, at the point of the bayonet. He was not an alarmist, and said exactly what he meant. He had no wish to beat about the bush. War was the Hand-servant of Peace, and the sooner that servant came back the better. He did not wish to threaten, but he told Russia and France that Germany was ready to begin, when and where they chose to meet him. But he might again remark it was splendid weather, and he saw nothing but blue sky. _Authorised Version_ (_all others declared to be misleading and inaccurate_).--His Imperial Majesty merely observed that it was a fine day. * * * * * ON BOARD A YACHT.--The conversation at lunch-time had turned on recent publications. A learned Theban from Oxford inquired of the Skipper, if he had seen the "_Rig-Veda_." "What sort of Rig's that?" asked the Skipper, a bit puzzled. But the Oxonian wisely declined a rigmarole explanation, and told him that all further inquiries must be made to Professor MAX MUeLLER. * * * * * FEELING THEIR WAY. (_A STUDY IN THE ART OF GENTEEL CONVERSATION._) SCENE--_The Drawing-room of a Margate Hotel. Time--evening. Mrs. ARDLEIGH (of Balham), and Mrs. ALLBUTT (of Brondesbury), are discovered in the midst of a conversation, in which each is anxious both to impress the other, and ascertain how far she is a person to be cultivated. At present, they have not got beyond the discovery of a common bond in Cookery._ _Mrs. Allbutt._ You have the yolks of two eggs, I must tell you; squeeze the juice of half a lemon into it, and, when you boil the butter in the pan, make a paste of it with _dry_ flour. _Mrs. Ardleigh._ It sounds delicious--but you never can trust a Cook to carry out instructions exactly. _Mrs. All._ I never _do_. Whenever I want to have anything specially nice for my husband, I make a point of seeing to it myself. He appreciates it. Now _some_ men, if you cook for them, never notice whether it's you or the Cook. My husband _does_. _Mrs. Ard._ I wonder how you find time to do it. I'm sure _I_ should never-- _Mrs. All._ Oh, it takes time, of course--but what does that matter when you've nothing to do? Did I mention just a small pinch of Cayenne pepper?--because that's a _great_ improvement! _Mrs. Ard._ I tell you what I like Cayenne pepper with, better than anything--and that's eggs. _Mrs. All._ (_with elegant languor_). I hardly ever eat an egg. Oysters, now, I'm _very_ fond of--_fried_, that is.