"The Ministry of Munitions has for disposal approximately 75 TONS
WEEKLY of PRESS MUD."--_Advt. in "The Engineer."_
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"In consequence of the epidemic at the Royal Naval College,
Osborne, in the spring of this year, it has been decided to
reduce the number of cadets at the College from 500 to 300.
This reduction will not affect the numbers to be entered, as
a larger number of cadets will be accommodated at Dartmouth
Colliery."--_Scotsman_.
Where they will be trained, we suppose, as mine-sweepers.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE REDUCED TRAIN SERVICE AT SLOWGRAVE.
"NO NEED TO IDLE YOUR TIME AWAY. JUST GET A SHEET OF EMERY-PAPER AND
TAKE THE RUST OFF O' THEM RAILS."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: TRIALS OF A CAMOUFLAGE OFFICER.
_Sergeant-Major_. "BEG PARDON, SIR, I WAS TO ASK YOU IF YOU'D STEP UP
TO THE BATTERY, SIR."
_Camouflage Officer_. "WHAT'S THE MATTER?"
_Sergeant-Major_. "IT'S THOSE PAINTED GRASS SCREENS, SIR. THE MULES
HAVE EATEN THEM."]
* * * * *
"GOG."
(_TO THE AUTHOR OF "JONG," PUNCH, SEPTEMBER 19TH._)
O singer sublime of Beeyah-byyah-bunniga-nelliga-jong,
It isn't envy, the green and yellow,
That makes me take up my lyre, old fellow,
And burst with a fierce cacophonous bellow
Across the path of your song.
I want to propose another name,
Unknown to you and unknown to fame;
It is like the sound of a hand-sawn log
Or the hostile hark of a husky dog:
Chagogagog-munchogagog-chabun-agungamog!
This cracker of jaws is a lake, I'm told,
A lake in the U.S.A.,
And first the Indians, the red sort, owned it,
But later to Uncle Sam they loaned it,
Who afterwards made no bones, but boned it
In the fine Autolycus way;
And though life wasn't a matter vital
He kept with the lake its rasping title,
Which recalls the croak of an amorous frog
Or a siren heard in an ocean fog:
Chagogagog-munchogagog-chabun-agungamog!
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