Yours, etc., FAR SIGHTED. WRIT SARCASTIC. SIR,--I have an infallible plan for diminishing the consumption of good food, at any rate among Members of the Government. Let them give up all other forms of nutriment and eat their own words. The PRIME MINISTER might begin. I am, Yours, etc., ORGANISED OPPOSITION. "FOOD HOGS" SUPERSEDED. SIR,--I am told that there are people so lost to shame that they are still, in spite of the KING'S Proclamation and all the other appeals to their patriotism, eating as usual. I suggest that they be branded as the "Alimentary Canaille." Yours, etc., DISGUSTED. * * * * * "Sir G. Cornewall Lewis made the best speeches in the moist manner."--_British Weekly_. We had always understood till now that he was one of our dry speakers. * * * * * "Mr. R. M'Neill was surprised that the hon. member should have thought it worth while to make a point of that sort. Surely he knew the rule 'Qui facit peralium facit perse.'"--_The Times_. The maxim seems to have jammed. * * * * * "Mr. Bonar Law replied: 'The Imperial War Cabinet is both executive and consultative, its functions being regulated by the nature of the subject of the Bandman Opera Coy.'"--_The Empire_ (_Calcutta_). As one of the subjects of the Company (according to its advertised programme) is a piece entitled "The Rotters," we feel confident that Mr. BONAR LAW has been misreported. * * * * * TROOP HORSES. Through lingering long months idle They have kept you ready and fit, All shining from hock to bridle, All burnished from hoof to bit; The set of your silk coat's beauty, The lie of its lightest hair, Was an anxious trooper's duty And a watchful captain's care. Not the keenest eye could discover The sign of the sloth on you, From the last mane-lock laid over To the last nail tight in the shoe; A blast, and your ranks stood ready; A shout, and your saddles filled; A wave, and your troop was ready To wheel where the leaders willed. "Fine-drawn and fit to the buckle!" Was your confident Colonel's pride, And the faith of the lads--"Our luck'll Come back when the Spring winds ride;" And, dropping their quaint oaths drolly, They dragged their spurs in the mire, Till the Western Front woke slowly And they won to their hearts' desire. They loose you now to the labours That the needs of the hour reveal, And you carry the proud old sabres To cross with a tarnished steel; So, steady--and keep position-- And stout be your hearts to-day, As you shoulder the old tradition And charge in the ancient way! W.H.O. * * * * * MORE ZOO NOTES.