and that at
the time of going to press an indestructible rubber uncle is leading by
several votes.

* * *

A burglar arrested in Berlin was taken ill, and while operating upon him
the surgeons found in his stomach six silver spoons, some forks, a number
of screws and a silver nail file. Medical opinion inclines to the theory
that his illness was due to something he had swallowed.

* * * * *

[Illustration: MEMBER OF CLUB WHICH IS CLOSED FOR CLEANING ACCEPTS THE
PROFFERED HOSPITALITY OF NEIGHBOUR CLUB.]

* * * * *

A FAIR WARNING.

"REQUIRED.--English Child to play afternoons with French boy ten years;
good retribution."--_Continental Daily Mail._

* * * * *

"THE NATIONAL LAYING TEST, 1920-21.

SECTIONS.

1. White Leghorns.
2. White Wyandottes.
3. Rhode Island Reds.
4. Any other Sitting Breeds.
5. Any other Non-Sitting Breeds.
6. Championship (any Breed).
7. Great Eastern Railway Employees."
_Poultry, for the Farmer and Fancier._

We shall treat the porters at Liverpool Street with more respect in future.

* * * * *

MICHAELMAS AND THE GOOSE.

(_Lines written under the threat of a Coal-strike_).

You for whose Mass by immemorial use,
When Autumn enters on his annual cycle,
We offer up the fatted goose
Mid fragrant steam of apple-juice,
Hear our appeal, O Michael!

Sir, do not try our piety too sore,
Bidding us sacrifice--a wrench how cruel!--
Her whom we prize all geese before--
The one that lays that precious ore,
Our priceless daily fuel.

Her output, as it is, shows want of will
To check the slackness growing rife and rifer;
And it would fall far lower still
(Being, indeed, reduced to _nil_)
If they should go and knife her.

Yet there are men who press the slaughterers' claim
In sympathetic language, talking loosely;
Among them Mr. GOSLING--shame
That anyone with such a name
Should cackle so ungoosely!

Not in your honour would that bird be slain
If they should kill her--and the hour is critical--
But for their own ends, thus to gain
An object palpably profane
(That is to say, political).

Defend her, Michael! you who smote the crew