May and June were “hectic” months, in which the reaction from the fatigues and restraints of War found vent in an increased disinclination for work, encouraged by a tropical sun.  These were the months of the resumption of cricket, the Victory Derby, the flood of honours, and the flying of the Atlantic, with a greater display of popular enthusiasm over the gallant airmen who failed in that feat than over the generals who had won the War.  They were also the months of the duel between Mr. Smillie and the Dukes, the discovery of oil in Derbyshire, the privileged excursion into War polemics of Lord French, unrest in Egypt, renewed trouble with the police, and a shortage of beer, boots and clothes.

[Illustration:  “END OF A PERFECT ‘TAG’”]

But though the Big Four had been temporarily reduced to a Big Three by Italy’s withdrawal, and though M. Clemenceau, Mr. Lloyd George, and President Wilson had all suffered in prestige by the slow progress of the negotiations, Versailles, with the advent of the German delegates, more than ever riveted the gaze of an expectant world.  To sign or not to sign, or, in the words of Wilhelm Shakespeare, Sein oder nicht sein:  hier ist die Frage—­that was the problem which from the moment of his famous opening speech Count Brockdorff-Rantzau was up against.  But, as the days wore on, in spite of official impenitence and the double breach of the Armistice terms by the scuttling of the German war-ships at Scapa and the burning of the French flags at Berlin, the force of “fierce reluctant truculent delay” was spent against the steadily growing volume of national acquiescence, culminating in the decision of the Weimar Assembly, the tardy choice of new delegates, and the final scene in the Hall of Mirrors, haunted by the ghosts of 1871.

Writing at the moment of the Signature of Peace and in deep thankfulness for the relief it brings to a stricken world, Mr. Punch is too old to jazz for joy, but he is young enough to face the future with a reasoned optimism, born of a belief in his race and their heroic achievements in these great and terrible years.  Victory took us by surprise; and we were less prepared for Peace at that moment than we had ever been for War.  And just as in the first days of the fighting we went astray, running after the cry “Business as usual,” so to-day we are making as bad a mistake when we run after “Pleasure as usual”—­or rather more than usual.  But we soon revised that early error, and we shall not waste much time about revising this.  For though we lacked imagination then, and still lack it, we have the gift, perhaps even more useful if less showy, of commonsense.  And when commonsense is found in natures that are honest and hearts that are clean, it may make mistakes, but not for long.  No, the spirit which won the War is not going to fail us at this second call.  Perhaps we have only been waiting for the actual coming of Peace to settle down to our new and greater task.