According to the Hochliche Zeitung, His Imperial Majesty said that although the sky was apparently cloudless, the atmosphere might be charged with electricity.  He knew what that electricity denoted.  There were thunderbolts in the clouds and thunderbolts on earth.  Those on earth meant war and invasion.  He warned those who threatened the Fatherland, that there were a million of swords ready to spring forth from a million of scabbards.  It was well enough to be neighbourly when those who lived in your vicinity were benevolently inclined.  But when they showed a disposition to be offensive, then it was necessary to sharpen your swords and keep your power dry.  They had already conquered France, and were not afraid of Russia.  Besides, the Army contained young soldiers who would be the better for a real campaign.  He himself had no objection to visiting Paris and St. Petersburg, as a German Emperor should—­at the head of a German Army.  Still he might again remark, it was splendid weather, he saw nothing but blue sky.

[Illustration:  Nose Everything.]

According to the Nichtgeboren Zeitung, His Imperial Majesty said that, although the sky was apparently cloudless, he recognised dangers a-head.  He was willing to put himself forward as the Leader of the toilers.  It was their duty to secure the best possible constitution, and then to force that constitution upon all neighbouring people, if needs be, at the point of the bayonet.  He was not an alarmist, and said exactly what he meant.  He had no wish to beat about the bush.  War was the Hand-servant of Peace, and the sooner that servant came back the better.  He did not wish to threaten, but he told Russia and France that Germany was ready to begin, when and where they chose to meet him.  But he might again remark it was splendid weather, and he saw nothing but blue sky.

Authorised Version (all others declared to be misleading and inaccurate).—­His Imperial Majesty merely observed that it was a fine day.

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ON BOARD A YACHT.—­The conversation at lunch-time had turned on recent publications.  A learned Theban from Oxford inquired of the Skipper, if he had seen the “Rig-Veda.”  “What sort of Rig’s that?” asked the Skipper, a bit puzzled.  But the Oxonian wisely declined a rigmarole explanation, and told him that all further inquiries must be made to Professor MAX MUeLLER.

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FEELING THEIR WAY.

(A STUDY IN THE ART OF GENTEEL CONVERSATION.)

SCENE—­The Drawing-room of a Margate Hotel.  Time—­evening.  Mrs. ARDLEIGH (of Balham), and Mrs. ALLBUTT (of Brondesbury), are discovered in the midst of a conversation, in which each is anxious both to impress the other, and ascertain how far she is a person to be cultivated.  At present, they have not got beyond the discovery of a common bond in Cookery.

Mrs. Allbutt. You have the yolks of two eggs, I must tell you; squeeze the juice of half a lemon into it, and, when you boil the butter in the pan, make a paste of it with dry flour.