Something seems to have gone wrong with the Thames tunnel.

* * * * *

From a report of Mr. BONAR LAW’S speech at Liverpool:—­

“When the War was over there would be parties again. (A voice, ’I hope not.’) Yes, there would be parties—­no free country with free institutions was ever without them—­but he did not think they would be quite the sane parties.”—­The Times.

But were they ever?

* * * * *

“A telegram from Budapest ... announces that the newspaper ‘A Nap’ has been suppressed by the Hungarian Government for publishing an article the contents of which were considered to be dangerous to the interests of the war campaign.”—­Westminster Gazette.

We are sorry to hear this.  We used to take “A Nap” pretty regularly of an evening, and must now forgo this simple luxury.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Giles.  “THAT BEANT NO MANNER O’ USE TO THE LIKES O’ WE, MEASTER.”

Farmer.  “WHAT’S WRONG WI’ THE BEER?  AIN’T THERE ENOUGH ’OPS FOR YOU?”

Giles. “’OPS?  THE ONLY ’OP THAT’S EVER ‘AD WERE OUT O’ THE BLOOMIN’ WELL!”]

* * * * *

THE ART OF DETACHMENT.

(Being a letter from a cloistered lady visiting London to her sister in the Shires.)

My dear Ruth,—­Beginning at the beginning, let me tell you that you must at once go to the station to inquire how it is that they forced me to pay thirty shillings for my ticket, instead of one pound.  Although the price one pound is printed on the ticket, I couldn’t get it until I had paid ten shillings extra.  There was no time to get a proper explanation, so I want you to do so.  Very likely it is sheer blackmail by that man in the booking-office, whom I never cared for.  You had better see the station-master about it.

The next thing I want to tell you is that most of our ideas of London are wrong.  You remember how we used to be told about its wonderful lighting at night, and the comfort of its hotels, and the bright shops, and the crowds of taxis, and so on.  Well, this isn’t true at all.  So far from being well-lighted, I assure you that our few little streets and market square are a blaze compared with this city.  Some streets here are absolutely dark, and even in the great thoroughfares there is so little light that crossing the road is most perilous.  The thing could be put right in a moment if they would only see to it that the lamps were cleaned; I looked closely at several of them and I could see exactly what was wrong—­a coat of grimy stuff has accumulated on the glass.  Now to get this off would be quite easy, but it does not seem to have occurred to anyone to do it.  I suppose that London is very badly managed; and here again I think the advantage lies with us, for I am certain that our District Council would never allow such a state of things.  Probably the LORD MAYOR is lazy.