None ever saw thee quail beneath
  A foeman worthy of thy teeth. 
  Thou art, in brief, a model hound,
  Not so much beautiful as sound
  In heart and limb; not always strong
  When nose and eyes impel to wrong,
  Nor always doing just as bid,
  But sterling as the minted quid. 
  And I have loved thee in my fashion,
  Shared with thy face my frugal ration,
  Squandered my balance at the bank
  When thou didst chew the postman’s shank,
  And gone in debt replacing stocks
  Of private cats and Plymouth Rocks. 
  And, when they claimed the annual fee
  That seals the bond twixt thee and me,
  Against harsh Circumstance’s edge
  Did I not put my fob in pledge
  And cheat the minions of excise
  Who otherwise had ta’en thee prize? 
  And thou with leaps of lightsome mood
  Didst bark eternal gratitude
  And seek my feelings to assail
  With agitations of the tail. 
  Yet are there beings lost to grace
  Who claim that thou art out of place,
  That when the dogs of war are loose
  Domestic kinds are void of use,
  And that a chicken or a hog
  Should take the place of every dog,
  Which, though with appetite endued,
  Is not itself a source of food. 
  What! shall we part?  Nay, rather we’ll
  Renounce the cheap but wholesome meal
  That men begrudge us, and we’ll take
  Our leave of bones and puppy cake. 
  Back to the woods we’ll hie, and there
  Thou’lt hunt the fleet but fearful hare,
  Pursue the hedge’s prickly pig,
  Dine upon rabbits’ eggs and dig
  With practised paw and eager snuffle
  The shy but oh! so toothsome truffle. 
                  ALGOL.

* * * * *

“A landslide in Monmouthshire threatens to close the natural course of
the River Ebbw, seriously interfering with its ffllww.”—­Star.

It certainly sounds rather diverting.

* * * * *

From a list of gramophone records:—­

    “Nothing could seem easier in the wide world than the emission of the
    cascade of notes that falls from the mouth of the horn—­which might
    indeed be Tetrazzini’s own mouth.”

“The diameter of my own gramophone horn is eighteen inches,” writes the sender of the extract.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “THE ROAD TO VICTORY.”

GERMANY.  “ARE WE NEARLY THERE, ALL-HIGHEST?”

ALL-HIGHEST.  “YES; WE’RE GETTING NEAR THE END NOW.”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “’AVE YOU ’EARD ABOUT THESE ’ERE NEW INVISIBLE ZEPPELINS THEY’RE MAKIN’?”

“YES.  BUT I DON’T RECKON WE SHALL SEE MANY OF ’EM OVER ’ERE.”]

* * * * *

TAXIS AND TALK.

Conversation in the streets of London has never been easy; not, at any rate, until the small hours, when the best of it is done.  But it becomes even more complex when one of the talkers is pressed for time and wants a taxi, and disengaged taxis are as rare as new jokes in a revue.