THE JOY OF BILLETING IN A FRENCH CHATEAU.
Time, 6 a.m.
Brigade Major. "I say, Sir, may I finish dressing in here? They're shellin' the north bedrooms!"
Yule Logs.
Made from the finest Belgian church carved oak. A Prussian General writes: "This wood burns admirably. I speak from personal observation of experiments carried out under my orders."
An admirably suitable present for this year is a
War Map.
Those we offer are calculated to be particularly popular, the little Imperial flags not being detachable but painted on to the map—at Paris, London, Petersburg, etc. Thus, whatever may be happening in the field, you may continue cheerful.
American Mirrors.
As many of our most exalted customers complain of the quality of these goods, considering them too crude and glaring in their effect, we have prepared, with the help of our Ambassador at Washington, a special glass which provides a less realistic reflection. Sold in various shapes—the Kaiser mirror, the Dernburg reflector, etc. Try one.
A Beautiful Souvenir.
Calais-Beach Pebble Brooches.
(We regret to announce that at the last moment our buyer writes that he is unable to procure the last-named article.)
TOPICAL GEOGRAPHY.
Studies in the Art of Dragging-in.
["Though the Falkland Islands are dreary and uninviting enough, they have added their quota to the gaiety of the world. It should not be forgotten that Miss Ellaline Terris is a native of Stanley, the capital of the islands."—Pall Mall Gazette.]
The town of Bonn, in Rhenish Prussia, which has recently been in evidence owing to the enterprise of French aviators, is the seat of a university, of an Old Catholic bishopric and a school of agriculture. But it owes its chief title to fame to the fact that it was the birthplace of Beethoven, the eminent composer. Beethoven was a man of a serious character, but thanks to the genius of Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, who impersonated the illustrious symphonist in one of his notable productions, he has contributed substantially to the general gaiety.
Scarborough's unhappy plight under the shells of the German Navy will not soon be forgotten, and the sympathies of us all are with the unfortunate townsfolk of the Northern resort. Brighton, however, which shares with Scarborough the claim to be called the Queen of Watering Places, is unharmed and no doubt will remain a favourite recreation groups for tired Londoners on Sunday, among whom that mirth-provoking comedian, Mr. George Graves, is often to be seen.
The strategical and political importance of Egypt has of late somewhat overshadowed its picturesque aspect. But Memphis, Luxor, the Pyramids are still names to conjure with, as anyone will readily admit who recalls the wonderful stage pictures in Bella Donna, in which the role of good genius was sustained with such consummate skill and sympathy by Sir George Alexander, whose smile is as irresistible as the sword of his Macedonian namesake.
Tokio, the capital of the Japanese Empire, has re-emerged into prominence owing to the celebrations over the fall of Tsingtau. But it must never be forgotten that Miss Gertie Millar's espieglerie has caused many critics to compare her with the famous Japanese actress, Madame Sada Yacco, who, so far as we know, was born at Tokio and is one of its brightest jewels.
All eyes have recently been turned towards Ypres, and every one not of Teutonic caste must regret the damage that has been wrought there by the War. The word Ypres, however, to many persons, is chiefly interesting as giving its name to the old tower at Rye, in Sussex, where Mr. Henry James, whose sprightly and fertile pen has added so much to the dubiety of nations, has long resided.
"Il verso di Shaeckspeare 'Rules, Britain, on the suaves.'"—Corriere delle Puglie.
Not Kipling's after all, you see.
