PUNCHINELLO is pained to know that the circulation of his bewitching
contemporary, _The Sun_, is daily growing more and more languid.
Paralysis has set in, and the patient but seldom has the energy to
dictate the daily bulletin giving the state of his circulation.
* * * * *
Only a Suggestion.
It will be bad enough for the Prussian Cavalrymen to water their horses
in the Seine, but if they go to driving their stakes in the Bois de
Boulogne, won't the Parisians think it looks a little like running
things into the ground?
* * * * *