Gaspard removed the wine from his whiskers with Jacques' paper and leant over him. "This must be wiped out in blood," he said slowly. "Name your weapons." "Submarines," said Jacques after a moment's thought. A.A.M. * * * * * THE SWANS OF YPRES. Ypres was once a weaving town, Where merchants jostled up and down And merry shuttles used to ply; On the looms the fleeces were Brought from the mart at Winchester, And silver flax from Burgundy. Who is weaving there to-night? Only the moon, whose shuttle white Makes silver warp on dyke and pond; Her hands fling veils of lily-woof On riven spire and open roof And on the haggard marsh beyond. No happy ghosts or fairies haunt The ancient city, huddling gaunt, Where waggons crawl with anxious wheel And o'er the marshland desolate Win slowly to the battered gate That Flemings call the Gate of Lille. Yet by some wonder it befalls That, where the lonely outer walls Brood in the silent pool below, Among the sedges of the moat, Like lilies furled, the two swans float; "The Swans of Ypres" men call them now. They have heard guns and many men Come and depart and come again, They have seen strange disastrous things, When fire and fume rolled o'er their nest; But changeless and aloof they rest, The Swans of Ypres, with folded wings. * * * * * "Will Treasury notes ever be displaced by boxes of chocolates? "--_Daily Paper_. Certainly. Ours often are. * * * * * From the report of the Committee on the Staffing of Government Offices we gather that there has been a good deal of overflapping. * * * * * [Illustration: TRANSPORT FACILITIES.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mistress._ "OH, JANE, HOW DID YOU DO THAT?" _Maid._ "I'M VERY SORRY, MUM; I WAS ACCIDENTALLY DUSTING."] * * * * * THE SCHLOSS BILLET. We had not expected much of a billet in a defeated and starving country; that was probably why everybody was enthusiastic over it--at first. I, as billeting officer, was especially proud of having discovered it. The very thing for Brigade Headquarters--secluded, dignified, commanding and spacious. A couple of kilos from the gates through the drive brings you to the Schloss. Entering a hall about the size of a modern theatre you journey to the ante-room, a vast apartment, which for space compares favourably with the Coliseum at Rome. A world-exhibition of pictures and tapestries covers the walls of the Schloss, while an acre or two of painted ceiling shows the chief events of German history, from the Creation to the Franco-Prussian War.