brings me a sheaf of correspondence in which I am asked to
give my opinion as to our prospects of victory in the near future. I
have one formula for reply. I refer my correspondents to a recurrent
paragraph in _The Times_ under the heading "News in Brief." It runs
as follows: "At the close of play yesterday in the billiard match of
16,000 points up, between Inman and Stevenson, at the Grand Hall,
Leicester Square, the scores were," etc., etc. After all, the deciding
features in the Great World-Struggle will be manhood and _moral_.

TROTSKY'S PEACE OVERTURES.

From private sources, which corroborate the information given to
the public, I hear that the Spanish Charge-d'Affaires at Petrograd
is the only member of the Diplomatic Corps in that capital who has
taken cognisance of TROTSKY'S overtures (which, of course, must be
distinguished from TSCHAIKOWSKY'S). I very much doubt if KING ALFONSO
had a hand in this, though he has more than once intimated to me his
desire for peace.

LANSDOWNE AND LENIN.

What with the aircraft strike at Coventry and the activities of Lord
LANSDOWNE, LENIN and others, this has been a great week for Pacifists
and Pro-Bosches. In Germany, where the Press has eagerly followed _The
Daily Telegraph_ in giving prominence to Lord LANSDOWNE'S views, it
is felt that our EX-FOREIGN SECRETARY ought to receive a step in the
peerage, with the title Duke of Lansdowne and Handsup.

THE PREMIER ABROAD.

In conversation with Mr. LLOYD GEORGE on the occasion of one of
his flying visits to England, I learned how much he regretted that
pressure of time prevented him while in Italy from running over to
Venice and ascending the restored Campanile. While in residence in
Paris, however, he had had the pleasure of renewing his acquaintance
with the Eiffel Tower.

BROWNING AND SWINBURNE.

During the dark hour of trial through which Italy has been passing,
my thoughts have often strayed to Asolo in the Trevisan, the scene
of _Pippa Passes_, by the late ROBERT BROWNING (whom I knew well).
"Italy, what of the night?" wrote my old friend SWINBURNE. "Morning's
at seven!" replies _Pippa_. Those brave words have heartened me a good
deal.

O. S.

* * * * *

TO A DACHSHUND.

[About the precise nationality of whose remote progenitor--whether
Danish, Flemish, or British through the old English Turnspit--the
writer will not stay to argue.]

My faithful Peter, mount upo