e."]

* * * * *

BIRD-LORE.

I.--THE CUCKOO.

The Cuckoo is a tell-tale,
A mischief-making bird;
She flies to East, she flies to West
And whispers into every nest
The wicked things she's heard;
She loves to spread her naughty lies;
She laughs about it as she flies:
"Cuckoo," she cries, "cuckoo, cuckoo,
It's true, it's true."

And when the fairies catch her
Her busy wings they dock,
They shut her up for evermore
(She may not go beyond the door)
Inside a German clock;
Inside a wooden clock she cowers
And has to tell the proper hours--
"Cuckoo," she cries, "cuckoo, cuckoo,
It's true, it's true."

R.F.

* * * * *

"THE SILENT SERVICE."

"Horace ----, labourer, was charged with using insulting language.
He was said to be training for the Navy and the case was accordingly
dismissed."--_Local Paper_.

* * * * *

"If people would wear the same underclothing all the year round,
and with or without the aid of a thermometer against their bedroom
window vary their outer garments only, they would never be
inconvenienced by changes of temperature."--_Letter in Daily Paper_.

And they would make an appreciable saving in their laundry bills.

* * * * *

THE MUD LARKS.

"_Gurr finny,"_ says T. Atkins, and there seems no doubt about the
well-known War being over at last. Home-keeping folk, who imagine it
ended when the whistle blew at the eleventh hour of November 11th, are
wide, very wide, of the mark. We have experienced some of its direst
horrors since then. Why, at one time (and not so long ago) we were
without the bare necessities of life itself.

I have seen hardy old soldiers; banded like zebras with wound-stripes
and field-service chevrons, offering to barter a perfectly good horse
for a packet of Ruby Queen cigarettes, or swap a battery of Howitzers
for a flagon of Scotch methylated. Then came the Great Downfall. Nabobs,
who for years had been purring about back areas in expensive cars,
dressed up like movie-kings, were suddenly debussed and dismantled.
Brigadiers sorrowfully plucked the batons from off their shoulder-straps
and replaced them in their knapsacks. The waste-paper baskets brimmed
with red flannelette and gilt edging. Field officers cast down their
golden crowns and crept slowly back