or how
Do you account for _Chu Chin Chow_?

As for the gods, their judgment shows
No loss of _flair_ for grace or wit;
We see the comic's ruby nose
Reduce to pulp the nightly pit,
Whose patrons, sound in head and heart,
Still love the loftiest type of Art.

Nor should the playwright fail for lack
Of matter, if with curious eyes
He follows in our Pressmen's track,
Who find the source of their supplies
In Life, that ever-flowing font,
And "give the public what they want."

If authors, moving with the times,
Would only feed us, like the Press,
On squalid "mysteries," ugly crimes,
Scandals and all that carrion mess,
I see no solid reason why
Dramatic Art should ever die.

O. S.

* * * * *

=UNAUTHENTIC IMPRESSIONS.=

II.--MR. WINSTON CHURCHILL.

If it be urged that a few trifling inaccuracies have crept into the
sketch which is here given of a great statesman's personality I can
only say, "_Humanum est errare_," and "_Homo sum: humani nihil alienum
a me puto_." These two Latin sentences, I find, invariably soothe all
angry passions; you have only to try their effect the next time you
stamp on the foot of a stout man when alighting from an Underground
train.

Of all the present-day politicians, and indeed there are not a few,
upon whose mantelpieces the bust of NAPOLEON BONAPARTE is displayed,
Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL is probably the most assiduous worshipper at the
great Corsican's shrine. How often has he not entered his sanctum at
the War Office, peering forward with that purposeful dominating look
on his face, and discovered a few specks of dust upon his favourite
effigy. With a quick characteristic motion of the thumb resembling a
stab he rings the bell. A flunkey instantly appears. "Bust that dust,"
says the WAR MINISTER. And then, correcting himself instantly, with a
genial smile, "I should say, Dust that bust."

But NAPOLEON'S is not the only head that adorns Mr. WINSTON
CHURCHILL'S room. On a bookshelf opposite is a model of his own head,
such as one may sometimes see in the shop windows of hatters, and
close beside is a small private hat-making plant, together with an
adequate supply of the hair of the rabbit, the beaver, the vicuna and
similar rodents, and a quantity of shellac. Few days pass in which the
WAR MINISTER does not spend an hour or two at his charming hobby, for,
contrary to the general opinion, he is far from satisf