Officer (commanding skirmishing party). "Very sorry to put you off your game, Sir; but we had to come across here."
Golfer. "Don't mention it, Sir. It makes me feel I've done my bit."
(The following communication has been submitted to our own Special Censor, who takes the responsibility of contradicting it in every particular. Subject to this, he has no objection, to publication.)
In spite of the drastic regulations against dealing with the enemy it is to be feared that books from British publishing houses continue to find their way into German hands. During the early days of the invasion of Belgium an unprecedented demand for How to Collect Old Furniture arose in neutral countries, accompanied by enquiries for similar works dealing with silver plate, pictures and bijoutry. Suspicion respecting the ultimate destination of these books is strengthened by the fact that of late the demand has given place to urgent requests for stilts, wading-boots, and "water-wings"—a class of goods in which Paternoster Row is not keenly interested.
The esteemed Berliner Tageblatt has recently set itself to discover the most suitable reading for civilians during the war. One of its correspondents recommends Gulliver's Travels, "in order to learn to know the English." That weighty point may therefore be regarded as finally settled. Meanwhile from other sources no less authentic some interesting particulars have come to light of the literary relaxations prevailing among our enemy in the field. From these it would appear that early in September General von Kluck received, apparently from an anonymous admirer, a copy of The Mysteries of Paris, in which he has been thoughtfully absorbed ever since. His Imperial master's pocket-companion takes the form of a copy of Mr. Frank Richardson's There and Back, which we learn is already beginning to show signs of hard wear. Many of the gunners stationed about French and Belgian cathedral cities are reported as being seriously interested in Max Müller's Chips from a German Workshop, while Mr. H. G. Wells' Twelve Stories and a Dream has become almost a book of reference to the officials disseminating German wireless news.
A work of timely importance, especially to Londoners during the present lighting regulations, is promised in the course of the next few weeks. The novelty is to take the form of a brochure from the pen of Dean Inge, and will court popularity under the arresting title, How to be Cheerful though Gloomy.
["I resent exceedingly the gross and vulgar way in which the German Emperor has been treated in the newspapers... I have a personal memory of the Emperor very sacred to me."—The Archbishop of York.]
Merely the dupe of had advisers,
And, simply to avoid a fuss,
Reluctantly made war on us.
When, peradventure, some fine day,
Thanks to his German friend, he hears
York Minster crashing round his ears!
Foresight.
"It was stated in Dover last night that an aircraft was seen over Dungeness this evening.—Central News.
The Press Bureau, while permitting publication, cannot vouch for the accuracy of this statement."—Cardiff Evening Express.
No wonder!
