Yet the Press Bureau solemnly asserts that no Russian troops have passed through this country. I have now no faith in anyone's uncles, aunts nor yet brothers-in-law. I believe nothing. Is there a Kaiser? Is there a War? Or is the whole thing a malignant invention of Lloyd George to save a tottering Government? But then again—(most terrible of all doubts)—is there a Lloyd George?
More Spirituous Hospitality.
From a German pamphlet quoted by the Ipswich Evening Star:—
"With German energy we are determined to win, and we invite Italians to gin with us?"
THE SILVERN TONGUE.
It was his vest-slip which chained my eye. Spats and the lesser niceties are common among the altruists who strive to set us to rights just by the Marble Arch, but a vest-slip was a new note.
His voice was like his hair, in that it was thin, undecided, not really assertive enough to be impressive ... Ah, now I had the range of him.
"You may call 'im a beneffercent despot. I don't. You may 'ave a tiste for aristocrercy, plootocrercy, ortocrercy. I 'aven't. You may prefer to 'ave a iron-shod 'eel ground on your fices. I don't.