ears to be her inability to settle up.

***

A shop at Twickenham bears the notice, "Shaving while you wait."
This obviates the inconvenience of leaving one's chin at the barber's
overnight.

***

"Life and property," writes a correspondent, "are as safe in Hungary
to-day as they are in England." It should be borne in mind that there
is usually a motive underlying these alarmist reports.

***

"It is ten days," writes a naturalist, "since I heard the unmistakable
'Cuck, cuck, cuck' of the newly-arrived cuckoo at Hampstead." Not
to be confused with the "Cook, cook, cook!" of the newly-married
housewife at Tooting.

***

A weekly paper has an article entitled "The Lost Haggis." We always
have our initials put on a haggis with marking ink before despatching
it to be tailor-pressed.

***

At the annual meeting of the National Federation of Fish-fryers the
President asked whether it was not possible to make fried fish shops
more attractive. It appears that no serious attempt has yet been made
to discover a fish that gives off an aroma of violets when fried.

***

The Directors of the Underground offer a prize of twenty pounds to
their most polite employee. We have always felt that the conductor who
pushes you off a crowded train might at least raise his hat to you as
he moves out of the station.

***

After considering the Budget very carefully some people are veering
round to the theory that we didn't win the War, but just bought it.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "WHAT'S 'IS BUSINESS?"

"'E'S A TAXIDERMIST."

"OH, IS 'E? WELL, 'E SEEMS TO 'AVE DONE BETTER OUT OF IT THAN I
'AVE."]

* * * * *

THE SCARECROW PROFESSION.

"WANTED, Youth of sixteen for one of the healthiest jobs in the world,
most of the time spent basking in the sun, listening to skylarks and
throstles; wages 35s. guaranteed to smart youth. Lots of weaklings
have been set on their feet and prepared to face the world at this
situation."--_Provincial Paper._

TO A BRICKLAYER IN REPOSE.

Rest from your work, awhile, my son,
And let a mug of beer replace
The moisture--sign of duty done--
That oozes from your honest face;
Your tale of bricks,
A long hour's task, already totals 6.

Our goose that lays the bars of gold
Must not incur too big a strain;
Nor need you, as I think, be told