ddleworth, on the 7th inst, Two Swing
Doors."--_Provincial Paper._

What became of the rest of the storey?

* * * * *

The SULTAN has presented the GERMAN KAISER with a sword of honour--"Same I
massacred the Armenians," as _Rawdon Crawley_ would have said.

* * * * *

"The launching of the first great Allied offensive of this year has
fallen at such a time in the week that it is unfortunately impossible
to deal with it at all thoroughly in the present number."--_Land and
Water._

Sir DOUGLAS HAIG ought to be more considerate.

* * * * *

A RATIONAL QUESTION.

Dear Mr. Punch,--Seeing from your cartoon that you have views of your own
on Food Control, may I put a puzzling case to you? The other evening, after
the theatre, I wished to give some supper to a hungry young soldier friend
who any day now may be summoned to France. It was a quarter past eleven and
I led him to a restaurant near Piccadilly Circus which was still open and
busy. But the door-keeper refused to admit him. I might go in--oh, yes--but
not a soldier. Now I am an elderly civilian, doing very little for my
country except carrying on my own business and paying my way and my taxes;
but this boy is a fighter, prepared to die for England if need be. Yet it
is I who am allowed to eat at night, and not he, however much in need of
food he may be! Surely there is some want of logic here?

I am, Yours faithfully,
PERPLEXED CIVILIAN.

* * * * *

"April came in yesterday with none of the mildness
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllll xfifl vbg emf shr tao hr which is proverbially
associated with that month."--_Glasgow Evening Times._

We can almost hear the printer's teeth chattering.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Mother._ "SO YOU'RE THE BOTTOM BOY OF YOUR CLASS. AREN'T
YOU ASHAMED OF YOURSELF?"

_Peter._ "BUT, MOTHER, IT'S NOT MY FAULT. THE BOY WHO'S ALWAYS BOTTOM IS
AWAY ILL."]

* * * * *

FIRST LINES.

After having spent an hour or so with WORDSWORTH'S sonnets I found my head
so full of his sonorous adjuratory music that when in the middle of the
night I woke as usual--from three to four is the worst time--my wooing of
reluctant sleep took on a new fashion, and instead of repeating verses I
made them. But I only once proceeded f