“HELSINGFORS, Sept. 28.—­The Governor-General of Finland has
    ordered seals to be affixed to the doors of the Diet.”—­Times.

This seems superfluous.  Seals have always been attached to a Fin Diet.

* * * * *

“A party of the Russians in their natural costumes have come to Portland to ply their trade as metal workers.  They make a picturesque group, which a Press writer will try to describe to-morrow morning.”—­Portland Daily Press (U.S.A.).

We trust that he did not dwell unduly upon the scantiness of their attire.

* * * * *

Model dialogues for air-raids.

[A few specimen conversations are here suggested as suitable for the conditions which we have lately experienced.  The idea is to discourage the Hun by ignoring those conditions or explaining them away.  For similar conversations in actual life blank verse would not of course be obligatory.]

  I.

  A.  Beautiful weather for the time of year!
  B.  A perfect spell, indeed, of halcyon calm,
      Most grateful here in Town, and, what is more,
      A priceless gift to our brave lads in France,
      Whose need is sorer, being sick of mud.
  A.  They have our first thoughts ever, and, if Heaven
      Had not enough good weather to go round,
      Gladly I’d sacrifice this present boon
      And welcome howling blizzards, hail and flood,
      So they, out there, might still be warm and dry.

  II.

  C.  Have you observed the alien in our midst,
      How strangely numerous he seems to-day,
      Swarming like migrant swallows from the East?
  D.  I take it they would fain elude the net
      Spread by Conscription’s hands to haul them in. 
      All day they lurk in cover Houndsditch way,
      Dodging the copper, and emerge at night
      To snatch a breath of Occidental air
      And drink the ozone of our Underground.

  III.

  E.  How glorious is the Milky Way just now!
  F.  True.  In addition to the regular stars
      I saw a number flash and disappear.
  E.  I too.  A heavenly portent, let us hope,
      Presaging triumph to our British arms.

  IV.

  G.  Methought I heard yestreen a loudish noise
      Closely resembling the report of guns.
  H.  Ay, you conjectured right.  Those sounds arose
      From anti-aircraft guns engaged in practice
      Against the unlikely advent of the Hun. 
      One must be ready in a war like this
      To face the most remote contingencies.
  G.  Something descended on the next back-yard,
      Spoiling a dozen of my neighbour’s tubers.
  H.  No doubt a live shell mixed among the blank;
      Such oversights from time to time occur
      Even in Potsdam, where the casual sausage
      Perishes freely in a feu de joie.