Through all these various tributes rang the note of duty well done, and Mr. Bonar Law did well to remind the House of the sure instinct which caused Lord Kitchener to realise at the very outset the gigantic nature of the present War.  In a sense his loss is irreparable, yet his great work was accomplished before he died.  Sometimes accused of expecting others to achieve the impossible, he had achieved it himself in the crowning miracle of his life, the improvisation of the New Armies.

The violation of Greek territory by the Bulgarian troops, as might be expected, has not led to any effective protest from King Constantine.  On the contrary, one seems to hear this benevolent neutral deprecating any apology on the part of King Ferdinand:  “Please make yourself at home.  This is Liberty Hall.”

It is otherwise with the irruption of the Russians under General Brusiloff.  His great offensive is a source of offence to the Austrians, who have good reason to complain that the “steam-roller” is exceeding the speed limit.  Or to change the metaphor, the bear and his tormentor have changed places.

Ireland has receded a little from her place in the limelight, and though debates on martial law continue, and Irish members ask an inordinate number of questions arising out of the hot Easter week in Dublin, the temperature is no longer “98 in the shade” as a local wit described it at the time.  Ministers are extremely economical of information:  the anticipated settlement still hangs fire, and there are increasing fears that it will not hold water.

[Illustration:  THE FAR-REACHING EFFECT OF THE RUSSIAN PUSH]

A number of professional fortune-tellers have been fined at Southend for having predicted Zeppelins.  The fraudulent nature of their pretensions was sufficiently manifest, since even the authorities had been unable to foresee the Zeppelins until some time after they had arrived.

The discussions in Parliament and out of it of the way in which things get into the papers which oughtn’t to, are dying down.  A daily paper, however, has revived them by the headline, “Cabinet leekage.”  Now, why, in wonder, do they spell it in that way?

It is quite impossible to keep pace with all the new incarnations of women in war-time—­’bus-conductress, ticket-collector, lift-girl, club waitress, post-woman, bank clerk, motor-driver, farm-labourer, guide, munition maker.  There is nothing new in the function of ministering angel:  the myriad nurses in hospital here or abroad are only carrying out, though in greater numbers than ever before, what has always been woman’s mission.  But whenever he sees one of these new citizens, or hears fresh stories of their address and ability, Mr. Punch is proud and delighted.  Perhaps in the past, even in the present, he may have been, or even still is, a little given to chaff Englishwomen for some of their foibles, and even their aspirations.  But he never doubted how splendid they were at heart; he never for a moment supposed they would be anything but ready and keen when the hour of need struck.