for a bad sailor to take with him when crossing the Channel on a
rough day.

* * *

"Everyone knows," a writer in _The Daily Mail_ declares, "that
electric light in the poultry-house results in more eggs." There may
be more of them but they never have the real actinic taste of the
natural egg.

* * *

An American inventor has devised a scheme for lassoing enemy
submarines. This is a decided improvement on the method of just
sticking a pin into them as they whizz by.

* * *

Since the talk of Prohibition in Scotland, we are informed that one
concert singer began the chorus of the famous Scottish ballad by
singing "O ye'll tak the dry road."

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Mrs. Jones_. "YOU'D SEE IN THE PAPERS, JOHN, ABOUT THE
AGITATION IN FAVOUR OF THE WIFE GOVERNING THE HOME."

_Mr. Jones_. "WELL, CARRY ON, DEAR."]

* * * * *

From an article on "Bullies at the Bar":--

"He who had read his 'Pickwick'--and who has not?--will never
forget the trial scene where poor, innocent Mr. Pickwick is as
wax in the hands of the cross-examiner."

_Provincial Paper_.

We regret to say that, in our edition, _Mr. Serjeant Snubbin_ omitted
to put his client in the witness-box, and consequently _Mr. Serjeant
Buzfuz_ never had a chance of showing what he could do with him.

* * * * *

=BEFORE THE CENOTAPH.=

NOVEMBER 11TH, 1920.

Not with dark pomp of death we keep their day,
Theirs who have passed beyond the sight of men,
O'er whom the autumn strews its gold again,
And the grey sky bends to an earth as grey;
But we who live are silent even as they
While the world's heart marks one deep throb; and then,
Touched by the gleam of suns beyond our ken,
The Stone of Honour crowns the trodden way.

Above the people whom they died to save
Their shrine of sleep is set; abideth there
No dust corruptible, nought that death may have;
But from remembrance of the days that were
Rises proud sorrow in a resistless wave
That breaks upon the empty sepulchre.

D. M. S.

* * * * *

=OUR INVINCIBLE NAVY.=

PRIZE-MONEY.

The really intriguing thing about Naval prize-money is the fact that
no one knows exactly where it comes from. You don't win it by any
definite act of superlative daring--I mean to say, you don't have to
creep