it effective to twit one another with having been supplied
with rifles from the arsenals of the Bosch. They bandied charges and
contradictions so vigorously this afternoon that the SPEAKER had to
intervene to put an end to these "nonsensical bickerings."

The SECRETARY OP THE TREASURY scouted the suggestion that County
cricket-matches should be exempted from the entertainment tax. It
is believed that his answer was based solely upon financial
considerations, and that he must not be held to have expressed the
opinion that first-class cricket, as played by certain counties, _is_,
in point of fact, entertaining.

* * * * *

"German residents in South-west Africa have forwarded the
Administrator a petition for transmission to President Wilson,
claiming permission to erect a republic union with the Republic
of Germany. The petitioners claim that they not only represent a
majority of the white inhabitants, but interpret the views of
the wishes of the majority of the majority of the ahmbahmbahmbah
natives."

_New Zealand Paper_.

We should like to know more of this remarkable tribe, which,
_inter alia_, seems to have evolved a new method of proportional
representation.

* * * * *

THE RED WINE OF THE COUNTRY.

"Did I iver tell ye," asked ex-Sergeant O'Reilly, filling his pipe
from my tobacco-jar, "about the red wine?"

"I remember a story about sparkling Burgundy," I said.

"Och, that wouldn't be it at all. 'Twas another time altogither."

"Well," I said, "tell me about the red wine."

"'Twas this way." O'Reilly leant back in his chair, covered his maimed
hand with a pocket-handkerchief--a curious way he had--and looked
at me with that expression of openness and simplicity which demands
confidence. "We was 'way back o' the line at the time, at a place
where ye'd expect to get a taste o' rest; but what wid fancy attacks
an' 'special coorses' (thim 's the divil an' all!) there wasn't enough
rest for an honest man to get into mischief. Well, there was to be a
grand inshpection by a tremenjus brass-hat, one o' thim soort all over
ribbons that rides wid a shtiff back. 'Twas the mornin' before the
great day whin the O.C. comes to me all of a flutter, an' says he,
'Sergint, ye've a chanct now to do me a good turn.'

"'I'll do it, Sorr,' says I, 'if it costs me my shtripes.'

"'The fact is,' says he, 'we've run out o' claret