Out of the eight hundred million pounds’ worth of Government material left over from the War, of which two hundred million pounds’ worth is expected to be realised in the current year, you should have no difficulty in securing a pair of knightly spurs at quite a reasonable price.  They ought to go well with a kilt.

To the Chairman of the “Societe des Bains de Mer de Monaco.”

Few people can have been better pleased than you at the cessation of hostilities.  During all those terrible years the falling-off among the patrons of your world-famous bathing-establishment must have been a source of cruel grief to you.  And now there are already myriads who have washed away the stains of war in the pellucid waves that lap your coast of azure.

Here, too, at your hospitable Board of Green Cloth there is forgetfulness of Armageddon save when the cry of “Zero” recalls to the convalescent British warrior the fateful hour for going over the top.

And to think of Monte Carlo without the guttural Hun and his raucous “Dass ist mein” as he swoops upon his disputed spoils!  An Eden with the worm away!

A bientot!

O.S.

* * * * *

    “PUBLIC SCHOOLS’ HIGH JUMP CHALLENGE CUP.—­E.C.  Archer
    (Merchant Taylors’), 5 ft. 4 in. (unfinished), 1.”—­The
    Times.

We are glad to have later advices which state that he has returned to earth safely.

* * * * *

    “Alabaster Lady’s Evening Cigarette Case, lid and hinges set
    with diamonds; left in taxi.”—­Advt. in “The Times."

We trust the alabaster lady has by now regained her property and with it her marmoreal calm.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  IMPERIAL PREFERENCE.]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “THEY ‘ALSO RUN’ WHO ONLY STAND AND WAIT.”]

* * * * *

THE ARRIVAL OF BLACKMAN’S WARBLER.

I am become an Authority on Birds.  It happened in this way.

The other day we heard the Cuckoo in Hampshire. (The next morning the papers announced that the Cuckoo had been heard in Devonshire—­possibly a different one, but in no way superior to ours except in the matter of its Press agent.) Well, everybody in the house said, “Did you hear the Cuckoo?” to everybody else, until I began to get rather tired of it; and, having told everybody several times that I had heard it, I tried to make the conversation more interesting.  So, after my tenth “Yes,” I added quite casually:—­

“But I haven’t heard the Tufted Pipit yet.  It’s funny why it should be so late this year.”

“Is that the same as the Tree Pipit?” said my hostess, who seemed to know more about birds than I had hoped.

“Oh, no,” I said confidently.

“What’s the difference exactly?”