"Lord ----, who managed to be present, wore a festive air with a button-hole of lilies of the valley."--_Ramsey Courier._ * * * * * "LOST, between Huddersfield and Saddleworth, on the 7th inst, Two Swing Doors."--_Provincial Paper._ What became of the rest of the storey? * * * * * The SULTAN has presented the GERMAN KAISER with a sword of honour--"Same I massacred the Armenians," as _Rawdon Crawley_ would have said. * * * * * "The launching of the first great Allied offensive of this year has fallen at such a time in the week that it is unfortunately impossible to deal with it at all thoroughly in the present number."--_Land and Water._ Sir DOUGLAS HAIG ought to be more considerate. * * * * * A RATIONAL QUESTION. Dear Mr. Punch,--Seeing from your cartoon that you have views of your own on Food Control, may I put a puzzling case to you? The other evening, after the theatre, I wished to give some supper to a hungry young soldier friend who any day now may be summoned to France. It was a quarter past eleven and I led him to a restaurant near Piccadilly Circus which was still open and busy. But the door-keeper refused to admit him. I might go in--oh, yes--but not a soldier. Now I am an elderly civilian, doing very little for my country except carrying on my own business and paying my way and my taxes; but this boy is a fighter, prepared to die for England if need be. Yet it is I who am allowed to eat at night, and not he, however much in need of food he may be! Surely there is some want of logic here? I am, Yours faithfully, PERPLEXED CIVILIAN. * * * * * "April came in yesterday with none of the mildness eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllll xfifl vbg emf shr tao hr which is proverbially associated with that month."--_Glasgow Evening Times._ We can almost hear the printer's teeth chattering. * * * * * [Illustration: _Mother._ "SO YOU'RE THE BOTTOM BOY OF YOUR CLASS. AREN'T YOU ASHAMED OF YOURSELF?" _Peter._ "BUT, MOTHER, IT'S NOT MY FAULT. THE BOY WHO'S ALWAYS BOTTOM IS AWAY ILL."] * * * * * FIRST LINES. After having spent an hour or so with WORDSWORTH'S sonnets I found my head so full of his sonorous adjuratory music that when in the middle of the night I woke as usual--from three to four is the worst time--my wooing of reluctant sleep took on a new fashion, and instead of repeating verses I made them. But I only once proceeded farther than the first line. Anybody who finds pleasure in poetic pains may add the other thirteen; to me such a task would savour of bad luck. Here, however, are some of my brave Rydalesque beginnings, with titles:-- _To the ASSISTANT CONTROLLER of FOOD, wishing him success._ JONES, who wouldst keep potatoes for the poor--