ude of intolerance towards and ignorance of Irish
psychology which has rendered our behaviour to Ireland for so many
centuries a by-word not only throughout Europe but the whole civilised
world and the United States of America.

"I am, Sir, yours, etc."

Through some accident or other, either because I have not followed
exactly the prescribed rules of the competition, such as writing on
one side of the paper only, or addressing it from the National Liberal
Club, or obtaining the signature of five witnesses, my solution
has not yet appeared in _The Times_ or in _The Westminster Gazette_
either. Feeling it a pity, however, that any helpful suggestion should
be lost at a time when never in the annals of Irish misgovernment
has vacillation vacillated so vacillatingly as it does to-day, I have
repeated my strong but simple proposals here.

K.

* * * * *

"Clever forgeries of Fisher notes are in circulation in St.
Pancras.

Last night, during the busy period, a number of publications
in the Kentish Town district were victimised."--_Evening
Paper_.

We had no idea that Kentish Town was such a literary centre.

* * * * *

"Even Paris seems willing this season to add a few inches to
the length of skirts, and six to eight inches is becoming the
accepted length for street wear. This is an excellent length,
not so long as to endanger the chic of the costume, nor
so short as to be unbecoming in either sense of the
word."--_Fashion Paper_.

We refrain from any speculations as to the previous length of these
skirts before the "few inches" were added.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE POLISH HUG.

BOLSHEVIST. "YOUR ATTITUDE CONVINCES ME, KAMERAD, THAT WE WERE MEANT
TO BE FRIENDS."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Willium_ (_having at critical stage in four-handed
game undertaken to spot the red_). "'TIS ALL OVER, GEARGE--MY HAND BE
STUCK IN THE POCKUT."]

* * * * *

ELIZABETH OUTWITTED.

"An' when I dies they give me fifteen pounds on the nail an' no
waitin'," said Elizabeth triumphantly, as she explained her latest
insurance scheme.

"On what nail?" I asked distrustfully. I could not understand why
Elizabeth felt justified in paying sixpence per week for a benefit
fraught with so little ultimate joy to herself. But she