Nor are there wanting ways and means Enabling experts to impose By sundry suitable machines Fine character upon the nose; And nasal dignity, we find, Promptly reacts upon the mind. But those who in this great reform Of face and feature are engrossed Agree that to enforce a norm In labial fabric matters most; The lips that help a race to win Unquestionably must be thin. Therefore with pleasure unalloyed We learn that great Columbia's sons, With PERSHING busily employed In laying plans to down the Huns, According to a trusty pen Are "thin-lipped and determined men." * * * * * On the retirement of certain Tanks from their War Bond duties:-- "They can understand, we hope, how very jolly it has been to have them, and how sorry we are to see them go. We shall probably sing those typical English ballads 'Auld Lang Syne' and 'Will ye no come back again?'"--_Daily Paper_. A Scottish correspondent suggests the addition of a few other "typical English ballads," such as "The Wearing of the Green," "Men of Harlech," "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "The Marseillaise." * * * * * "Applications will be received by Mr. J. Arnold, Chairman of the Bathurst Municipality, for a TOWN CLERK, whose duties will be the following, viz.: Competent Bookkeeper, Sanitary Inspector, Street Inspector, and to supervise labour party on roads, Native Location Inspector, Dog Tax Collector, Ranger, Caretaker of the Municipal Dipping Tank and be able to mix dip. Kafir language essential."--_South African Paper_. And he'll want a lot of it. * * * * * [Illustration: THE WAIT. HIS MASTER'S VOICE. "I'VE NOTHING FOR YOU. GO AWAY!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Mr. Podgers (persuasively hospitable). "NOW COME, GRANDMA, DO ALLOW ME TO GIVE YOU JUST A LITTLE--SAY FIVE SHILLINGSWORTH--MORE TURKEY."] * * * * * SIDNI THE STOREMAN. FRAGMENT OF AN EDDA. At the downcome of darkness Up to the trenches Fared he forth, Sidni the Storeman. On bent back Bore he the Rum Jar, Bringing a boon To the Folk in the Front Line. Scatheful the sky With no stars shining; Monstrous the mud That lay deep on the Duck Boards. A weary while Wandered he on; No wit he wotted Of fate that followed Stalking his steps. So passed he the posts All silent and sunken In mire and murk, Till fearful he felt for The doubtful Duck Boards No longer beneath him. Then spake Sidni, Steward of Stores: "Now know I well I have come to the Country That men name No Man's;" And with woe his heart Waxed heavy within him For horror of Hun Folk Who crawl in the craters.