Nothing's to pay, whatever you eat
Of the fruit that grows in my Orchard Street.
"USEFL. hlp. ckng. no wshg. fam. 2."
Morning Paper.
Th. is rl. wd. plp. ecnmy.
A NIGHT OUT WITH A ZEPPELIN.
By Karl Von Weekend
(hyphenated neutral).
(Concluded.)
Beneath us—beneath, in a manner of speaking, the iron heel of the all-conquering Fatherland—lay perfidious England. I, as a mere layman, had, of course, not the vaguest idea as to precisely what vital portion of the doomed island was immediately below us. Not so my host, the Captain Sigismund von Münchhausen, who suddenly snapped together the stethoscope through which he had been gazing and rapped out a monosyllabic order down the speaking tube at his right hand.