* * * * *

A film-drama:—­

“It is the story of the poor orphan daughter of a South American aristocrat.  She has become enamoured of a tradesman’s son, but misapprehension having arisen, she becomes engaged to a man who apparently is well endowed with this world’s foods.”—­Leicester Daily Mercury.

In these times, who can wonder at her choice?

* * * * *

From an article on the Royal Lineage:—­

    “After the extinction of the Billing Family....”—­Daily
    Telegraph.

A correspondent, writing upon House of Commons’ notepaper, assures us that the above passage is a gross exaggeration.

* * * * *

    “Charlie D. (Westminster).—­We answer you in the words of
    Cassius, ‘A plague of both your houses.’”—­Town Topics.

Were not the words those of Mercutio when he had failed to set up a Business Government in Verona?

* * * * *

    “Apply weed-killers to garden walks and drives, using every
    precaution against domestic fowls and other bird-eating
    worms.”—­Irish Gardening.

Very careless of St. Patrick to leave these ornithophagous reptiles at large.

* * * * *

    “Wanted, Few Men to travel with Hobby Horses.—­Apply Murphy’s
    Steam Galloping Horses, Abbeyleix, Queen’s Co.”—­Irish
    Independent.

Now we understand Mr. Ginnell’s sudden decision to quit Westminster.

* * * * *

THE TAP-ROOM.

Our Reserve Battalion has a billiard-room, which is well patronised by all those cheerful souls who have escaped from France without permanent injury and resignedly await the second call.

To-night the “Tap-room” is in top form.  A four-handed game of snooker is in as rapid progress as is reasonably possible.  Every easy-chair is filled with a would-be player offering gratuitous advice in order to speed things up.  A young war-scarred Captain is balanced on a rickety side-table, offering odds on the game in a raucous voice.  The Mess-waiter strives to be in three places at once.  Through all, the players, totally unnerved, play with a desperate attempt at concentration.

Suddenly the door opens, and the Colonel enters, heated and out of breath.  His eye pierces through the tobacco smoke and transfixes the unhappy bookmaker.  He requests him to take advantage of his position to open a window.  The players examine the tips of their cues in sudden silence.  The Colonel refuses the offer of six vacated chairs with a slightly impatient negative and inquires as to the probable length of the game.  He accepts the obvious untruth that it has just ended, smiles with satisfaction, and proposes to the Adjutant a game of one hundred up.