As I had often gone out of my way to do the pair a good turn I was naturally pained at their ingratitude.  Taking the jug, I turned away in silence and left them.  Ah Sin pursued me.

“Hon’lable officer likee jug?” he asked.

Dam Li, who had followed, answered for me.

“Likee jug allee same China boy likee lations,” he explained.

“An’ China boy gottee lations, blead an’ beer, allee same hon’lable officer gottee jug,” continued Ah Sin.

“Then what more can wantchee?” concluded Dam Li triumphantly.

I surrendered unconditionally.

* * * * *

GOOD-BYE, AUSTRALIANS!

  Through the Channel’s drift and toss
    Swift your homing transports churn;
  Soon for you the Southron Cross
    High above your bows shall burn;
  Soon beyond the rolling Bight
  Gleam the Leeuwin’s lance of light.

  Rich reward your hearts shall hold,
    None less dear if long delayed,
  For with gifts of wattle-gold
    Shall your country’s debt be paid;
  From her sunlight’s golden store
  She shall heal your hurts of war.

  Ere the mantling Channel mist
    Dim your distant decks and spars,
  And your flag that victory kissed
    And Valhalla hung with stars—­
  Crowd and watch our signal fly: 
  “Gallant hearts, good-bye! Good-bye!”

  W.H.O.

* * * * *

THE ALIENS IN OUR MIDST.

    “But most of the people aboard that car, if they had been
    truthfully outspoken, would probably have said, ’Dem’s my
    sentiments.’”—­Evening Paper.

* * * * *

    “MARK OF CENTENARIAN.

“Mrs. Rachel ——­, a former resident of this city, was the guest of honor at a dinner served yesterday at her son’s home in Wilkinsburg, the occasion being the 92nd anniversary of her birth.  Mrs. ——­ was born in Somerset County and resided in this city before the flood.”—­American Paper.

At first we thought the headline a little previous, but the last sentence shows that it is, on the contrary, decidedly belated.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Indignant Patriot (to Local Food Committee).  “I WISH TO REPORT THAT THERE’S A GROCER IN THIS TOWN WHO IS SELLING BUTTER, SUGAR AND JAM WITHOUT COUPONS.  HE—­”

Food Committee (as one man, ecstatically).  “WHICH IS HIS SHOP?”]

* * * * *

SOMETHING LIKE “LITERARY GOSSIP”!

Are you not, dear reader, a little tired of what is called “Literary Gossip”?  Be frank.  Aren’t you?  And have you not sometimes longed even more to know what the industrious fellows were not writing than what they were?

But suppose we could come across an authentic column like this?