Now that the occupation of the New War Office has been fixed for February next, a noticeable melancholy is to be observed-writes our military expert-among the older officials. It is feared that some of them have become so habituated to the old Pall Mall buildings-the scene of their triumphsthat they are likely to stray there absent-mindedly even after the change of offices has been effected. To prevent them from setting there, pen in hand, under the impression that they are at work, it is not unlikely that a call-boy will have to be appointed for a year or two, to bring them over to the new buildings and show them where they are to sit and think out the problems connected with the defence of the Empire.

By crossing native plants with hardier ones, a strawberry grower of New Jersey has obtained a plant which bears perennial strawberries. Dairymen have since been asking why they should not be allowed an equal latitude in crossing milk with other components, as they have no doubt that in that case they could obtain a can which would produce perennia' cream.

Most people, we imagine, will endorse the statement of the Chief Inspector of Public Elementary Schools to the effect that children between the ages of three and five get practicaily no intellectual advantage from school instruction. The utmost teacher can impress upon them is the advantage of drying their thumbs after sucking them, and very little intellectual effort is, of course, involved in learning this lesson.

Literary circles have been a good deal excited by the offer made to the Editor of the Matin by a contributor. It will be remembered that this gentleman has offered to commit suicide if the Editor will first print some articles of his. We understand that a league of critics is now being formed for the purpose of bringing out a magazine which, in the interests of literature, will print the articles of one or two of our leading novelists on similar terms.

A lady missionary in the hinterland of the Niger has written home to say that she cannot translate the "Glory Song" into the Ibo dialect, as there is no word in that language for Glory. Perhaps, however, the Ibos are not sufficiently musical to realise what they are losing by this unfortunate state of affairs.

Everyone knows that variety is the spice of life, but that "the practice of exchanging husbands is somewhat common in Sheffield" will come as a surprise to many. The fact was stated before a magistrate last week in a case where the exchange had led to some trouble. One would imagine, somehow, that the practice would lead to trouble as a general rule. No doubt it has some advantages. The husband who likes variety in his cooking might get it by going home to a different wife to dinner, and he might at the same time get a change of conversation, which would be helpful. But for the domestic-minded husband, it must be rather trying to sit down every day with a stranger of uncertain temper, and, possibly, expensive habits. The other person's children, too, might not like him, and might be unwilling to meet the wishes of a temporary parent. We will not enter into the question of a new mother-in-law three or four times a week; and only trust that, if this is the practice of Sheffield, it is at least confined to that town, and is not a spreading fashion.

SAL

Shocking scene recently witnessed in the West End!!!

LIBRARIES.

The Fashionable Smile

Chloe smiled. It was a rich, full smile, and, as I had just been guilty of the remark that, when a man wants to catch a train at 10 o'clock, it is a nuisance to find no breakfast ready at 10.5, I did not understand it. Chloe is usually penitent

on these occasions, or, at any rate, hurt.

"I confess I see nothing

to laugh at," I said.

"I'm not laughing," said Chloe. Her smile had, if anything, increased, but the timbre of her voice suggested pathos. "Not?" I said.

"No. I'm smiling," said Chloe.

"So it seems," I said

drily.

It was not until later

in the day that I understood. We were dining at the Watkyn-Maude's, and Chloe smiled all the

way there in a cab, though she had said. that she hated going. She even smiled when the cabman, who was undoubtedly intoxicated, offered to fight me because I overpaid him a shilling. Mere levity like this annoys me, and I complained to Watkyn-Maude. Singularly enough,

Watkyn- Maude, who is dulness itself as a rule, sympathised.

"Ethel's just as bad,"

There was the distinct sound of a shudder in the cab as I made this admission.

"I shall give it up then," said Chloe. "Give up what?" I said irritably.

"I shouldn't care," she continued in the most exasperating manner, "to run the risk of looking like Ethel. Poor George!" (George is WatkynMaude's Christian name.) "However, I suppose it doesn't suit everybody."

he said. "I don't know what's the matter with her. Had a beastly day in the House, and told her we'd probably have to sell the Panhard if things went on like this. She smiled. I told her it didn't suit her, and she went on smiling."

1 tried to cheer Watkyn-Maude by saying how delightful it was to have a wife who took misfortunes bravely, but he said there was a time for everything, and, personally, he saw nothing amusing in the prospect of being hammered. When we went into the drawing-room, I saw Chloe watching Mrs. WatkynMaude. Mrs. W.-M. is 1ather in the Lady Macbeth style. She has a large mouth. She cannot keep it shut when she smiles. It was open the whole evening, even when she lost at Bridge. I was glad that I was not Watkyn-Maude, for, though Chloe smiled just as much, Chloe has a reasonable sized mouth. Besides, Chloe had won. The last thing I remember about Mrs. Watkyn- Maude was her smile as I said good-night. It made me thoughtful on the way home. Chloe, it seemed, was also in a reflective mood. "Do I look like that?" she asked at length.

To W. T. Stead

["A telegram to the PETIT PARISIEN from its St. Petersburg correspondent states that Mr. W. T. Stead has been authorised to organise public meetings to discuss political questions of the day." -EXTRACT FROM DAILY PAPERS.]

Oh, Willie! we shall miss you,
Now you've gone to boss the Tsar,
And explain to simple Moujiks
What their privileges are.
While you tell them of the Duma,
And how they ought to vote;
Look out! And mind you always wear
A bombproof overcoat!

Oh, Willie! we shall miss you:
For who will elevate

Our Plays, our Press, our Politics,
While you put Russia straight?
The Army, and the Navy,
The Government, the Rand,
The Unemployed, the Alien,
Will miss your guiding hand.

The General Election

Must soon come into view,

Twelve million puzzled voters
Will cry aloud for you.

When you have tamed and pacifred

The wild, unruly Russ;

Oh! wandering seer of Mowbray House,

Come back, come back to Us!

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