"The Indians," complains the Frankfurter Zeitung, "have an extraordinary way of fighting. They jump up, shoot with wonderful precision, and disappear before one has time to notice them properly." Our contemporary has evidently not been studying the pages of Punch, or it would know that the disappearance is worked by the well-known Indian trick of throwing a rope into the air and climbing up it.
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Letters from the British troops operating in Damaraland show that the prevailing complaint there is with respect to the heat; and a dear and very thoughtful old lady writes to suggest that, as our men in Flanders dislike the cold, it might be possible to arrange an exchange.
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With reference to the attentions paid by German aeroplanes, the other day, to the British provision establishments at Dunkirk, we understand that the bombs which were dropped made no impression whatever on our bully beef, so famous for its durability.
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The Norwich Liberals have selected as their candidate Lieutenant Hilton Young, and it has been decided that the election shall not be contested. It is realised that in time of war "Le monde appartient aux Jeunes."
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In his account of the dynamiting of the C. P. R. bridge over the St. Croix river, Reuter tells us that "A German officer who has been hanging around the neighbourhood for the past few days has been arrested." We have a shrewd idea that he may be hanging in the neighbourhood again very shortly.
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