L.

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[Illustration:  ["All horses selected from the Expeditionary Forces for shipment to the United Kingdom must have the letter Y clipped on the off saddle.”—–­Remount Regulation.]

Elated War-Horse (on completion of operation).  “HOME, JOHN!”]

* * * * *

    “Mr. ——­ will play the flue obbligato for Miss ——­, and none
    better could be found.”—­Provincial Paper.

Very kind of him, no doubt, but most of us would prefer to do without this accompaniment.

* * * * *

PUNCH’S APPEAL FOR “OUR DAY.”

The following letter, dated March 12th, has been received from Sir ARTHUR STANLEY:—­

“The completion of the Fund which Mr. Punch has raised in connection with the ‘Our Day’ appeal gives me the opportunity of again expressing my grateful appreciation of this splendid effort.

“The total remittances we have received from you amount to L11,040 5s. 5d., and the long list of subscribers shows how loyally and generously the readers of Punch have rallied to your appeal.

“On behalf of the Joint War Committee of the British Red Cross Society and the Order of St. John, I should like to thank you and your readers most cordially for the welcome assistance you have provided for the relief of the sick and wounded.”

* * * * *

“To-day in the garden:—­

    “Refine the onion-bed thoroughly.”—­Daily Mail.

Have you tried eau-de-Cologne?

* * * * *

NOUVELLES DE PARIS.

Paris, March 1919.

DEAREST POPPY,—­I have a piece of news to send you from here that will give you a veritable frisson d’angoisse.  No, it doesn’t concern the Peace Conference; it’s something far worse than that. Figurez-vous, the new style of coiffure is severe to the point of being absolutely terrifying—­that is to the woman who has been shivering on the brink of thirty for any length of time.

Foreheads are coming in again—­que c’est embetant!  I thought they’d been abolished long ago.  I wish I could get hold of the mechant (for I know it’s a man) who is introducing them now.  I had my hair dressed chez Manet to-day in the new style, and when I saw myself afterwards I sat down and wept like the women of Babylon.

Quel horreur! My locks were strained, brushed, tightened back, and I was left high and dry with my exposed brow revealing four furrows to an unsympathetic world. C’est navrant.  We’re not to be allowed even the soupcon of a wave or the lightest bouffee, while side-curls are quite demodes.

I think the situation is really tragic.  So few women can afford to have a forehead.  The result will be that lots of our debutantes of some seasons ago will be “coiffees a Ste. Catherine” in more senses than one.