reatened to break off relations with the German Government on
account of its barbarity. It will be recalled that the KAISER once designed
an allegorical picture entitled "The Yellow Peril."]]

* * * * *

[Illustration: SAUCE FOR THE GANDER.

_Grocer_. "A LITTLE SUGAR WITH MY TART, PLEASE."

_Waitress_ (_late grocer's assistant_). "CERTAINLY, SIR, IF YOU WILL ALSO
TAKE MUSTARD, PEPPER, SALT, YORKSHIRE RELISH AND SALAD DRESSING."]

* * * * *

WEATHER-VANES.

It was 2 A.M. The mosquitoes were singing their nightly chorus, and the
situation reports were coming in from the battalions in the line. With his
hair sizzling in the flame of the candle, the Brigade Orderly Officer who
was on duty for the night tried to decipher the feathery scrawl on the pink
form.

"Situation normal A-A-A wind moderate N.E.," it read.

"Great Scott!" said the O.O. "North-East!" (Hun gas waits upon a wind with
East in it). "Give me the message book."

Laboriously he wrote out warnings to the battalions and machine gun
sections, etc., under the Brigade's control. Then he turned to the next
message.

"Situation normal A-A-A wind light S.W."

"South-West?" said the O.O. blankly, viewing his now useless handiwork.
"Which way _is_ the wind then?"

The orderly went out to see, and returned presently with a moistened
forefinger and the information that it was "blowing acrossways, leastways
it seemed like it." The O.O. got out of his little wire bed, searched in
his pyjamas for the North Star, and, finally deciding that if there was any
wind at all (which was doubtful) it was due South, reported it as such. The
responsibility incurred kept him awake for some time, but when the Brigade
on the right flank reported a totally different wind he concluded there
must be a whirlwind in the line, and, putting up a barrage of bad language,
went to sleep.

In due course the matter came to the ears of the Staff Captain, who
broached the subject at breakfast as the General was probing his second
poached egg.

"This," said the General, who is rather given to the vernacular, "is the
limit. A North-South-East-West report is preposterous. Something must be
done. Haven't we got a weather-vane of our own? Pass the marmalade, will
you?"

Four people reached hastily for the delicacy, and the O.O. feeling out of
it passed the milk for no reason. (Generals really get a very good time.
People have