r economy in the consumption of paper,
the Proprietors of _Punch_ are compelled to reduce the number of its pages,
but propose that the amount of matter published in _Punch_ shall by
condensation and compression be maintained and even, it is hoped,
increased.

It is further necessary that means should be taken to restrict the
circulation of _Punch_, and on and after March 14th its price will be
Sixpence. The Proprietors believe that the public will prefer an increase
of price to a reduction of matter.

Readers are urged to place an order with their Newsagent for the regular
delivery of copies, as _Punch_ may otherwise be unobtainable, the shortage
of paper making imperative the withdrawal from Newsagents of the
"on-sale-or-return" privilege.

In consequence of the increase in the price of _Punch_ the period covered
by subscriptions already paid direct to the _Punch_ Office will have to be
proportionately shortened.

* * * * *

APOLOGY OF A WARRIOR MINSTREL.

Lucasta, don't be cruel
If my bewildered lyre
Amidst such stores of fuel
Seems reft of sacred fire.

For if you know what France is
You know how it is hard
To blend, as in romances,
The warrior with the bard.

The troubadours of story
Knew no such woes as we,
Whose hopes of martial glory
Are built on F.A.T.[1]

With songs and swords and horses
They learned their careless role,
While we are sent on courses
That starve the poet's soul.

With gay anticipations
They feasted ere a fight,
But we in calculations
Wear out the chilly night.

And if some hour of leisure
Permits a lyric mood
My wretched Muse takes pleasure
In nothing else but food.

Thus when I am returning
Ice-cold from some O.P.,
And in the East is burning
Aurora's heraldry,

That spark she fails to waken
With which of yore I glowed,
Who, fain of eggs and bacon,
Tramp ravening down the road,

Aware, with self-despising,
Which interests me most--
The silvery mists a-rising
Or marmalade and toast.

Such are the War-bard's passions--
Rank seedlings of a time
That chokes with maths and rations
The bursting buds of rhyme.

[1]: Field Artillery Training

* * * * *

A ROMANCE OF RATIONS.

"Not like to like, but like in difference."
"_The Princess._"

I have always