The rigours of the Censorship are pressing hard on war correspondents.
Official news of importance trickles in in driblets: for the rest,
newspaper men, miles from the front, are driven to eke out their dispatches
with negligible trivialities. We know that Rheims Cathedral is suffering
wanton bombardment. And a great many of us believe that at least a quarter
of a million Russians have passed through England on their way to France.
The number of people who have seen them is large: that of those who have
seen people who have seen them is enormous.
[Illustration: PORTER: "Do I know if the Rooshuns has really come to
England? Well, sir, if this don't prove it, I don't know what do. A train
went through here full, and when it came back I knowed there'd been
Rooshuns in it, 'cause the cushions and floors was covered with snow."]
We gather that the Press Bureau has no notion whether the rumour is true or
not, and cannot think of any way of finding out. But it consents to its
publication in the hope that it will frighten the Kaiser. Apropos of the
Russians we learn that they have won a pronounced victory (though not by
us) at Przemysl.
Motto for the month: _Grattez le Prusse et vous trouverez le barbare_.
[Illustration: UNCONQUERABLE