At this season, when their own children are already counting the days that lie between them and their holidays, Mr. Punch appeals to his kind readers not to forget the greater needs of the children in our elementary schools. The cost of sending them away to the sea or countryside for fresh air and change of scene is constantly increasing and the Children's Country Holidays Fund cannot keep up its good work without generous help. There can be no better way of making a Peace-offering than by helping to build up the health and strength of the new generation. Mr. Punch begs that liberal gifts may be sent to the Secretary of the Fund at 18, Buckingham Street, Strand, W.C.2. * * * * * SCENES FROM OUR GREAT FILM: "AUDACITY DOWN THE AGES." [Illustration: MYTHICAL ENGINEER MAKING A SUGGESTION TO SISYPHUS.] [Illustration: GLADIATOR CALLING FOR MORE AND LARGER LIONS.] [Illustration: ANCIENT BRITON DEFYING HIS CHIEF, AND REFUSING TO WOAD.] [Illustration: ROMAN COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER TRYING TO SELL SAFETY RAZORS TO THE DRUIDS.] [Illustration: KNIGHT, ABOUT TO UNDERGO THE "TRIAL BY COMBAT," OFFERING TO BACK HIMSELF "TO WIN OR A PLACE."] [Illustration: AMBIDEXTROUS FLOWER-GIRL SELLING RED AND WHITE FAVOURS DURING THE WARS OF THE ROSES.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Milliner_. "THAT MODEL IS FIFTEEN GUINEAS, MODOM." _Customer_. "HOW MUCH WOULD IT BE IF THE FEATHER WERE REMOVED?" _Milliner_. "FIFTEEN-AND-A-HALF GUINEAS, MODOM. YOU SEE, LABOUR IS SO DEAR."] * * * * * ON THE HIGH C.'S. Doubtless you have often heard Of the thrush, that gladsome bird, Who will warble any day, Be it cold or wet or gray. I suppose her mother taught her That the worms are fond of water, So that neither sleet nor slush Bridles that eupeptic thrush. Such a one was Johnny Carr (Sub-Lieutenant R.N.R.). I have never caught him yet Out of sorts when it was wet; He will hum when tempests howl, Whistle midst the thunder's growl, And I've seen him sing for joy, Clinging to a punctured buoy, While his gallant T.B.D. Sank beside him in the sea. No one knows exactly when or Why he came to call it tenor, But the fact remains he sang With a subtle nasal twang Just because he liked to do so (He was Carr, but not CARUSO), And with such a force of lung That, whatever tune he sung, It was like a projectile With a range of twenty mile. 'Twas the thirty-first of May. On that memorable day, Flitting like a restless ghost Somewhere off the Danish coast, His destroyer, all agog, Butted through the clinging fog, When for just a space the gray Mists of morning rolled away. Ah! but how their pulses beat When they saw the High Seas Fleet Nosing noiseless as a dream Barely half-a-mile abeam; Then the filmy mists anew Blotted everything from view. John, astounded at the sight, Sang aloud with all his might.