he Globe Trotters.

"Mr. and Mrs. ----, of Knysna, are on a
visit to Knysna."--_South African Paper._

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE MAYOR AND CORPORATION OF SPARKLINGTON-ON-SEA SOLEMNLY
TOUCHING WOOD ON THE OCCASION OF THEIR SENDING OUT TO THE PRESS A NOTICE
THAT THEIR TOWN HAS NEVER SUFFERED FROM ENEMY AIR-RAIDS.]

* * * * *

V.A.D.

There's an angel in our ward as keeps a-flittin' to and fro
With fifty eyes upon 'er wherever she may go;
She's as pretty as a picture and as bright as mercury,
And she wears the cap and apron of a V.A.D.

The Matron she is gracious and the Sister she is kind,
But they wasn't born just yesterday and lets you know their mind;
The M.O. and the Padre is as thoughtful as can be,
But they ain't so good to look at as our V.A.D.

She's a honourable miss because 'er father is a dook,
But, Lord, you'd never guess it and it ain't no good to look
For 'er portrait in the illustrated papers, for you see
She ain't an advertiser, not _our_ V.A.D.

Not like them that wash a tea-cup in an orficer's canteen
And then "Engaged in War Work" in the weekly Press is seen;
She's on the trot from morn to night and busy as a bee,
And there's 'eaps of wounded Tommies bless that V.A.D.

She's the lightest 'and at dressin's and she polishes the floor,
She feeds Bill Smith who'll never never use 'is 'ands no more;
And we're all of us supporters of the harristocracy
'Cos our weary days are lightened by that V.A.D.

And when the War is over, some knight or belted earl,
What's survived from killin' Germans, will take 'er for 'is girl;
They'll go and see the pictures and then 'ave shrimps and tea;
'E's a lucky man as gets 'er--and don't I wish 'twas me!

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)

In _No Man's Land_ (HODDER AND STOUGHTON) is revealed a breadth of
vision which may astonish some of us who have been inclined to regard
SAPPER as merely a talented story-teller. Among the writers on the War I
place him first, for the simple reason that I like him best; and I am
not at all sure that I should like him any better if he cured himself of
his cardinal fault. With his tongue in his cheek he dashes away from his
story to give us either a long or short digression; no more confirmed
digressionist ever put pen to paper, and the