* * * * * "Woman, when you move about in your household service your limbs sing like a hill stream among its pebbles."--R.T. I have often noticed this in some of our Berlin butter queues.--W. * * * * * "Let my thoughts come to you, when I am gone, like the after-glow of sunset."--R.T. I doubt if this beautiful thought would appeal to LITTLE WILLIE.--W. * * * * * "'Who is there to take up my duties?' asked the setting sun. 'I shall do what I can, my Master,' said the earthen lamp."--R.T. I shall make LITTLE WILLIE learn this bit by heart.--W. * * * * * "The real with its meaning read wrong and emphasis misplaced is the unreal."--R.T. Yes; it's very hard on WOLFF'S Bureau.--W. * * * * * "My heart longs to caress this green world of the sunny day."--R.T. I find it most unfortunate that all the best places in the sun should be already occupied.--W. * * * * * "While I was passing in the road I saw thy smile from the balcony and I sang."-R.T. O dreams of the East! O Baghdad!--W. * * * * * "'The learned say that your light will one day be no more,' said the firefly to the stars. The stars made no answer."--R.T. That's what I should have done, but MICHAELIS would keep on talking.--W. * * * * * "God is ashamed when the prosperous boast of His special favour."--R.T. This must be some other god, not our German one.--W. * * * * * "Power takes as ingratitude the writhings of its victims."--R.T. And quite rightly. That's all the thanks I got when my heart bled for Louvain.--W. * * * * * "Kicks only raise dust and not crops from the earth."--R.T. Very sound. Roumania has been most disappointing.--W. * * * * * "Timid thoughts, do not be afraid of me. I am a poet."--R.T. I shall send a copy of my collected poems to FERDIE.--W. O.S. * * * * * WAR AND MY WARDROBE. As I am not a banker or a high official swell, I never felt a pressing need for dressing extra well; And yet there were occasions, in days not long remote, When I assumed the stately garb of topper and frock-coat. But war's demands, if you desire to tread the simple road, Are somewhat hard to reconcile with the Decalogue of Mode; So I gave away my topper to the man who winds our clocks, With a strangely mixed assortment of collars, ties and socks. And if I haven't parted from my dear old silk-faced friend It isn't out of sentiment--all that is at an end-- It's simply that the highest bid, in cash paid promptly down, I've had from any son of SHEM is only half-a-crown. * * * * *