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The Growth of Impropriety.

    “Her hair is always exquisitely dressed, and her shoes in perfect
    shape.  No more in the way of dress is required of any woman.”

    Daily Mirror.

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    “PROPOSED IMPROVEMENT OF A DANGEROUS CORONER.”

    Headline in Provincial Paper.

The best plan, possibly, would be to get the jury to sit on him.

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[Illustration:  NEWSPAPER HEADINGS POPULARLY ILLUSTRATED.

“INFLUENZA MICROBE DISCOVERED AT A LONDON HOSPITAL.”]

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MRS. BLOGGINS’S STATEMENT.

It is not too much to say that bed-making circles in Cambridge have been agitated to their utmost depths by the recent advent of some hundreds of American youths who have come to pursue certain courses of study within the University walls.  Let us make one thing perfectly clear.  Bed-makers do not object to Americans as Americans, but this avalanche of Transatlantics arrives on the very eve of the vacation, just when the bed-makers are packing off the contingent of young Naval officers who have been making things hum during the past term.

Persuaded that their too-brief holidays will be entirely absorbed in attending to the Americans, the bed-makers urge with some justice that they too are entitled to enjoy the beautiful things of this enchanting world quite as much as miners and railway-men.  We understand that meetings of their Association are being held, and that the University authorities are faced by a situation which is rapidly passing beyond their control.  Bed-makers are amongst the most loyal members of the community, but they feel, as a prominent member of the profession put it, that “the last camel breaks the straw’s back,” and they are determined to uphold their immemorial rights.

We have thought it our duty therefore to interview the celebrated Mrs. Bloggins, the doyenne of the Corps of Bed-makers of Trinity College.  We found the lady in her home in Paradise Walk, where she was engaged in eating some excellent buttered toast.  We lost no time in explaining the purport of our visit.

“We desire to know, Mrs. Bloggins,” we began, “what your feelings are with regard to the Americans.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Bloggins, speaking with deep emotion, “you may well call ’em Americans, for I’ve never bin so troubled about anythink before.  Some people seem to git the notion into their ’eads that bed-makers do no work.  Why we’re arst to slave from mornin’ till night, and our pay is paltry.  Things in Cambridge isn’t like what they was.  Time was when our young gentlemen used to ’ave big dinners in their rooms, and a careful bed-maker could save a bone or two.  Nowadays they,’re only cheese-parers, that’s what I call ’em.  You won’t believe me, I know, but my mother, who was a bed-maker afore me, used to ’ave a month at the seaside every year, all paid for out of money give to ’er by ’er young gentlemen.  To be sure there was a wrangler, or somethink of that kind, who didn’t come up to the mark, so she soon got rid of ’im; ’e used to find ’is butter was took by the cat, and accidents of that kind.