Among the problems of this latter day of discontents few are more pressing than speculating as to why sausages and pork-pies have so degenerated. Under the malign influence of Peace, sausages have become tasteless and pork-pies nothing but pies with pork in them; the crust chiefly plaster-of-Paris, and the meat not an essential element, soft and seductive and fused with the pastry, but an alien assortment of half-cooked cubes. I can understand that after a great war a certain deterioration must set in, but I fail to see why sausages and pork-pies, if made at all, should not be made as well as ever, especially as you get such a long price for them. Couldn't you--wouldn't you--try in 1921 to make them with some at least of the old care? TO A CABINET MINISTER. Might not a vow against writing for the papers be rather a nice one to observe during 1921? It is quite on the cards that one's duties to the State (not too inadequately paid for) ought to be sufficiently exacting to preclude journalism at all. There's a question of dignity too, although I hesitate to drag that in. TO THE CHIEF OF THE POLICE. Couldn't you (I hope I am addressing the right gentleman) arrange that before 1921 becomes 1922--twelve whole months--a simple device is made for taxis by which a square of red glass can be slipped over one of the lamps at night to indicate that the cab is free? I'm sure it wouldn't really be difficult, and the comfort of London would be enormously increased. TO A TAXI-DRIVER. You will perhaps note what I have just said to the Chief of the Police. If you had any interest in your work you would, of course, long since have fixed up something of the kind for yourself. But let that pass. All I am suggesting to you as a 1921 amendment is that you should bank in a more accessible part of your clothing. Waiting for change in this weather (especially with the flag still down) can be an exasperating experience. Won't you make a resolution during the coming year to keep your money nearer the surface? E. V. L. * * * * * [Illustration: _Neighbour (bearer of message, to billiard enthusiast)._ "YOU'RE WANTED AT 'OME, CHARLIE. YER WIFE'S JUST PRESENTED YER WITH ANOTHER REBATE OFF YER INCOME-TAX."] * * * * * HOW TO DEAL WITH WINDBAGS. "The address was punctured throughout with cheers."--_West Indian Paper._ * * * * * "There would be a grand dinner and music, and splendidly-dressed ladies to look at, and things to eat that strangely twisted the girls' paws when they tried to tell about them," _Weekly Paper._ Mem.--Never try to talk the deaf-and-dumb language after dinner. * * * * * [Illustration: _Profiteer (to his wife)._ "PRETTY MIXED LOT AT THIS HOTEL. 'ERE COME SOME MORE O' THEM PRE-WAR BLIGHTERS."] * * * * * THE BARKER THAT MISSED FIRE.