President Wilson. "I HOPE YOU ARE NOT SHOOTING AT MY DEAR FRIENDS THE MEXICANS?"
U.S.A. Gunner. "OH, NO, SIR. WE HAVE STRICT ORDERS ONLY TO AIM AT ONE HUERTA."
OUR CRAFTY CATERERS.
Born in Odessa In 1901, and at 13 years of age thinking nothing of his 900 mile Walk to the Fair at Nijni-Novgorod, our hero—the "poularde de Surrey"—at last arrives in London.
Now, how to make this treasure palatable to the British Public? First of all we'll catch him (the British Public) in our cosy Appetiser Department. Then Signor Sarsaparillo shall entertain him in the cloak-room.
We'll waft him up to the dining-room to the strains of the Blue Danubian Band. We'll give him "La Bohême" before the "poularde"; and the Maxixe during. A Terrible Turk shall give him coffee (with Coon accompaniment); and we'll send him home with a silver-mounted sterilised tooth-pick and presents for Madame and Baby. There!