at a singer
who deliberately assumes the name of Pongo, Og or Botuloffsky runs a
serious risk, in virtue of the inherent magic of names, of developing
qualities wholly unfitted for the atmosphere of a well-conducted
concert-hall.

I believe that the question of establishing a censorship of artists'
names has been seriously considered by Dr. ADDISON, in view of its
bearing on public hygiene, and that he estimates the cost of staffing
the new department as not likely to exceed seven hundred and fifty
thousand pounds a year. Still, in these days when State economy is so
needful, it would be better if the desired effect were attained by the
pressure of enlightened public opinion rather than by the operations
of even so inexpensive a department as that contemplated by the
MINISTER OF HEALTH.

* * * * *

=IN FLANDERS FIELDS.=

These famous verses, which originally appeared in _Punch_, December
8th, 1915, being the work of a Canadian officer, Lieut.-Colonel
MCCRAE, who fell in the War, have been subjected to so many
perversions--the latest in a letter to _The Times_ from a Minister of
the Crown, where the closing lines are misquoted as follows:

"If ye break faith with those of us who died,
We shall not sleep, though poppies bloom in fields of France"--

that Mr. Punch thinks it would be well to reproduce them in their
correct form:--

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

* * * * *

=AT THE PLAY.=

"FEDORA."

It may or may not be well that the War has modified our estimate of
the value of life; but it is a bad thing for the legitimate drama. And
in the case of _Fedora_ the bloody _regime_ of LENIN has so paled
our memory of the terrors of Nihilism that SARDOU'S play seems almost
further away from us than the tragedy of _Agamemnon_. In our callous
incapacity to be thrilled by the ancient horrors of forty years ago we
fall