How so to squeeze the sponge as to drive out the last drop of moisture was the problem before the massive intellect of the Grand Old Man.  Need I say that he solved it?  His method, as he himself in his unselfish way, told one of the diarists, possibly Sir M.E.  GRANT-DUFF, possibly Mr. G.W.E.  RUSSELL—­I forget whom—­was to wrap up the sponge in a bath-towel and jump on it.  Here, for the historical painter, is a theme indeed—­something worth all the ordinary dull occasions which provoke his talented if somewhat staid brush:  the great Liberal statesman, the promoter of Home Rule, the author of The Impregnable Rock of Holy Scripture, leaping upon the bath-towel that held his sponge.  But no historical painter could do justice to such a scene.  It needs the movies.

Those of us then who dry our sponges in this way—­and I am a fervent devotee—­owe the inventor a meed of praise.  And equally those of us who put into our hot water bottles at night hot tea instead of hot water (as I never have done and never mean to do), so that, waking in the small hours, we may yet not be without refreshment, owe a meed of praise to the same inspired innovator, for, if the chroniclers are correct, it was Mrs. GLADSTONE’S habit to retire to rest with a bottle thus nutritiously filled, which would be ready for her great man on his return from the House weary and athirst.

Here we see the difference between Liberal Premiers.  For what has Mr. ASQUITH done towards the solution of domestic problems?  Who can name a thing?  Has he devised a collar stud that cannot be lost?  Has he hit upon a way instantly to stop a shaving cut from bleeding?  Has he contrived a taxi window that will open when shut or shut when open?  No.  In all these years he has spared no time for any inventions.

No wonder then that he was found wanting and forced to resign.

* * * * *

    A Scot among the Cynics.

“The railway fares are being raised, we are told, to stop pleasure travelling, but it can hardly be imagined that a munition worker going home to spend his week-end with his family is bent on pleasure.”—­ Glasgow Evening News.

* * * * *

    “Beautiful set of civic cat; very large stole and muff; accept
    L12.”—­The Lady.

As DICK WHITTINGTON’S mascot is the only civic cat known to history we think the relic should be secured for the Guildhall Museum.

* * * * *

“Simply as a citizen and as a non-party man, I want to say that Mr. Asquith has my affection and respect—­and that is the highest guerdon that any statesman can have.”—­Extract from Letter in Yorkshire Paper.

We know now why Mr. ASQUITH refused a peerage.  He did not want to vex his modest admirer.

* * * * *

    “At Caxton Hall the conference was resumed of municipal authorities
    interested in the conversation of old fruit, sardine and salmon
    tins.”—­Birmingham Daily Mail.