PUNCH'S APPEAL FOR "OUR DAY."

The following letter, dated March 12th, has been received from Sir ARTHUR STANLEY:—

"The completion of the Fund which Mr. Punch has raised in connection with the 'Our Day' appeal gives me the opportunity of again expressing my grateful appreciation of this splendid effort.

"The total remittances we have received from you amount to £11,040 5s. 5d., and the long list of subscribers shows how loyally and generously the readers of Punch have rallied to your appeal.

"On behalf of the Joint War Committee of the British Red Cross Society and the Order of St. John, I should like to thank you and your readers most cordially for the welcome assistance you have provided for the relief of the sick and wounded."

"To-day in the garden:—

"Refine the onion-bed thoroughly."—Daily Mail.

Have you tried eau-de-Cologne?

NOUVELLES DE PARIS.

Paris, March 1919.

DEAREST POPPY,—I have a piece of news to send you from here that will give you a veritable frisson d'angoisse. No, it doesn't concern the Peace Conference; it's something far worse than that. Figurez-vous, the new style of coiffure is severe to the point of being absolutely terrifying—that is to the woman who has been shivering on the brink of thirty for any length of time.

Foreheads are coming in again—que c'est embêtant! I thought they'd been abolished long ago. I wish I could get hold of the méchant (for I know it's a man) who is introducing them now. I had my hair dressed chez Manet to-day in the new style, and when I saw myself afterwards I sat down and wept like the women of Babylon.

Quel horreur! My locks were strained, brushed, tightened back, and I was left high and dry with my exposed brow revealing four furrows to an unsympathetic world. C'est navrant. We're not to be allowed even the soupçon of a wave or the lightest bouffée, while side-curls are quite démodés.

I think the situation is really tragic. So few women can afford to have a forehead. The result will be that lots of our débutantes of some seasons ago will be "coiffées à Ste. Catherine" in more senses than one.

The "jewellery" one wears now is made of wood; we have carved wooden beads, wooden bracelets, even wooden rings. "Therefore it will be cheap!" you exclaim. Vous vous trompez, mon amie. I read a story the other day of an American who said that if you want an egg here for breakfast it is cheaper to buy the hen and hope she'll lay next morning, and in any case you've got the hen. Eh bien, should you desire a set of wooden jewellery you might save money if you bought a forest.

Paris has done more than extend le bon accueil to the Peace delegates; she is giving their names to the latest thing in vêtements. Thus we have the Lloyd George cravate, the Wilson gilet and the "Bonarlaw" chapeau melon. It's surprising how far-reaching are the effects of a Peace Conference.

A number of nous autres Anglais over here started a perfectly thrilling idea. It was really in the way of being an adventure. We have been exploring the quaint little cafés of Paris, with results tout à fait étonnants. We were served with provokingly delicious plats, at a price absurdly moderate compared with what is extorted from us in the hotels. Of course we were all enchanted. We became habitués of cafés and ceased to take any meals at our hotels beyond the matutinal café complet.

And then, quite suddenly, a horrid newspaper article appeared which conveyed suggestions extrêmement désagréables. It insinuated, ma chère, that "things are not what they seem"—at any rate things in the bill of fare at the moderately-priced eating-house.

It went on to speak of the many uses that domestic animals are put to after their labours on earth are ended. If it was horse that figured in the boeuf bourguignon served up to me, or the potée de boeuf aux choux (of which I will admit I raffole) I have no quarrel with it. It's the "lapin" I have had occasionally that's giving me the most qualms. I can't look at a cat now without a shudder.

As for Bertie, he says whenever he thinks of the tripes à la mode de Caen he so often favoured, he's very glad that he has even less imagination than his friends credit him with.

Of course the article may have been inspired by the keepers of hotels who were losing our custom. I think it's more than likely. But we've decided for the present to give the hotels the benefit of the doubt.

Toujours,

Your well-devoted ANNE.