ed
the idea of writing a book about it.

* * *

Much annoyance is said to have been caused to one bricklayer last
week. It seems that just before the dinner hour somebody kicked away
the brick he had laid and the unfortunate fellow had to start the day
all over again.

* * *

According to _The Manila Bulletin_ the cost of living is going to
fall. Not on us, we trust.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _'Arry._ "THEY'RE TALKIN' ABAHT DOIN' GREEK PLAYS AN'
PAGEANTS AN' ALL SORTS O' LOOPY STUNTS AT 'AMPSTEAD ON BANK 'OLIDAYS."

_'Arriet._ "LUMME! IT'LL GIT THE PLACE A BAD NAME."]

* * * * *

The Hire Education.

"Required, an Assistant Teacher (Lady), with option of
purchase."--_Australian Paper._

* * * * *

"Ex-Soldier's Tale.

NOTE TO WAR PRISONER HIDDEN IN CHEESE."

_National News._

We should like to hear more of the prisoner and his novel
hiding-place.

* * * * *

MAY-WEEK.

[Addressed affectionately to the author of "May-Week Then and
Now" in _The Times_ of last Wednesday.]

Though forty years have done their worst
To change us to the sere and brown,
Since we in verdant freshness first
Assumed the triple-chevroned gown,
As I perused _The Times_ this very day week
Your statement thrilled me through and through--
How people still go gathering nuts in May-week
Much as they used to do.

The courts their dun-grey habit keep,
Their velvet-green the sacred lawns;
The rooks that marred our matin sleep
Still devastate the golden dawns;
Beneath my westward windows still the same bridge
Sags in the centre as of old;
In fact, in all essential matters Cambridge
Preserves its ancient mould.

Slight innovations have occurred
That rudely on your senses strike;
Our innocence had never heard
The hooting of the motor-bike;
And though you might approve, with your rich tresses,
The vogue of leaving off your hat,
I with a crust that loathes the wind's caresses--
I should revolt at that.

But for the rest there's little strange;
Still Cam pursues his torpid way;
'Tis we alone who suffer change
(I could not stick the course to-day);
New generations lash the same old river,
Spurt up the Long Reach, bump and sup;
What if we pass, through weight of years