[Illustration:  THE BROTHERS TINGO, WHO ARE EXEMPTED FROM MILITARY SERVICE, DO THEIR BIT BY HELPING TO TRAIN LADIES WHO ARE GOING ON THE LAND.]

* * * * *

    “In some courts the carrying of matches has been regarded as a
    light offence, but this will not be the case in future.”—­Irish
    Times.

We note the implied rebuke to the jester on the Bench.

* * * * *

SONGS OF FOOD-PRODUCTION.

II.

  Mustard-and-Cress in Mayfair,
    Belgravia’s Winter Greens;
  None so nicely as they fare
    Save Cox’s Kidney Beans;
  Mustard-and-Cress in boxes,
    Greens in the jardiniere,
  And a trellis of Beans at Cox’s,
    Facing Trafalgar Square.

  Lady Biffington’s daughters
    Are mulching the Greens with Clay;
  Lady Smiffington waters
    The Mustard-and-Cress all day;
  And Cox’s cashiers (those oners!)
    Are feeling extremely rash,
  For they’re pinching the tips of the Runners
    As they never would pinch your cash.

  Mighty is Mayfair’s Mustard,
    The Cress is hardy and hale;
  Belgravia’s housemaids dust hard
    To keep the dust from the Kale;
  But Cox’s cashiers look solemn,
    For their Beans (which sell by the sack)
  Would cover the Nelson Column
    If they didn’t keep pinching them back.

* * * * *

“WEATHER AT HEALTH RESORTS.

Temp. 
Sunshine.    Max.   Min.      Weather. 
Felixstowe      0.0       22    29     Some snow.”

Morning Paper.

And some thermometer.

* * * * *

PETHERTON’S DONKEY;

OR, PATRIOTISM AND PUBLICITY.

I hadn’t had a letter-writing bout with Petherton for some time, and, feeling in need of a little relaxation, I seized the opportunity afforded by Petherton’s installing a very noisy donkey in his paddock adjoining my garden, and wrote to him as follows:—­

DEAR MR. PETHERTON,—­I do not like making complaints against a neighbour, as you know, but the new tenant of your field does not seem to argue a good selection on your part, unless his braying has a more soothing effect on you than it has on me.

  Yours sincerely,
  HARRY J. FORDYCE.

I was evidently in luck, as I drew Petherton’s literary fire at once.

SIR (he wrote),—­I should have thought that you would have been the last person in the world to object to this particular noise.  Allow me to inform you that I purchased the donkey for several family and personal reasons which cannot possibly concern you.

  Faithfully yours,
  FREDERICK PETHERTON.

I translated this letter rather freely for my own ends, and replied:—­