* * * * *

Extract from a recent novel:—­

    “She wore under it a white blouse of thin stuff, snowy white
    ... the big floppy sleeves gently bellowed in the slight
    breeze.”

It sounds rather a loud dress.  Possibly le dernier cri.

* * * * *

    “It is like a red rag to a bull to the ’bus drivers to see
    those lorries running about picking up members of the public.

    We are trying to keep our heads, but our shoulders are bending
    under the pressure, and presently, I am afraid, we shall
    collapse and find ourselves in the vortex.”—­Daily Paper.

We should like to see this situation illustrated.  Would some Vorticist oblige?

* * * * *

[Illustration:  THE MAN WHO GOT HIS MONEY’S WORTH.]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  The Demobilised One.  “SEEMS FUNNY TO THINK THAT ONLY LAST WEEK I WAS WALKING ABOUT LOOKING LIKE THAT, EH?”]

* * * * *

LITERARY OPTIONS.

In these days of ever-increasing strikes it is suggested, for the convenience of contributors to those magazines which of necessity go to press some time in advance, that they should submit to editors stories with interchangable situations:—­

  Algernon Aimless rose { lazily } from the breakfast-table
                        { hastily}

at { 9 A.M. } on a dark winter’s morning { in order
{ 7 A.M. } { in preparation

{ to catch the 9.15 to his office in the City. }
{ for his four-mile trudge to the City (Tube strike). }

The { electric lights gleamed with dazzling brilliance }
{ solitary candle shed a dismal light (Electricians’ strike) }

on the { well-polished } china, silver and table cutlery
{ neglected }

which { were the joy and pride of the admirable parlourmaid. }
{ no servants’ hands had touched for weeks
(Domestic servants’ strike). }

{ had glanced casually at his letters. }
{ had had no letters to read (Postmen’s strike). }

As he stood in the { spotlessly kept and charming } hall,
{ dusty discomfort of the dark }

arranging his { sleek well-brushed brown hair }
{ long untidy hair (Barbers’ strike) } before

putting on his hat, Ermyntrude Aimless { glided }
{ bounced }

{ gracefully down the staircase, clad in a charming
{ breathlessly up from the basement, wearing an old

{ negligee of satin and lace. }
{ over-all above her dressing-gown. }

{ “A handkerchief, dearest,” she murmured.  “I was afraid
{ “Your sandwiches, old thing,” she gasped.  “I believe

you’d forgotten { to take one;” } and she held out in her
{ about ’em;” }