target,” replied the Terrier, calmly, “an’ I can thread a needle as well; but wha the mischief ever tried to thread a needle at twa hunder yairds?”

CORRECT; GO TO THE HEAD

The schoolmaster wanted to know whether the boys had an understanding of the functions of a British Consulate.

“Supposing,” he began, framing his question in the likeliest way to arouse the interest of his hearers, “supposing some one took you up in an aeroplane, and after a long, exciting flight, dropped you down thousands of miles from home in a country quite foreign, what place would you seek out first of all?”

An eager hand was instantly uplifted.

“Well, Willie, what do you say?”

“Please, sir, the hospital.”

SELF-INTEREST PARAMOUNT

A senator was talking about the war. “Each side,” he said, “is declaring hotly now that it will never receive the foe within its hospitable borders again, and that after the war there will be no trading with the enemy forevermore.

“When we hear talk like that, let us smile skeptically, remembering the vain campaign of Wilberforce.

“When Wilberforce was fighting against slavery in London a shopkeeper put up a sign: ‘No goods made with slave-grown cotton sold here.’ But the man’s rival then put up another sign: ‘All our goods are made from cheap, slave-grown cotton.’

“This latter sign got all the trade, of course. If the first one hadn’t been taken down at once it would have driven its author into bankruptcy.”

WHY THEY WOULDN’T SHOOT

A correspondent sends to the “Manchester Guardian” this story, evidently from an ironical Swiss paper. A few soldiers belonging to the brass band of a regiment in garrison at Basle went to a certain café for refreshments. One of them sat down alone at a table. Later a civilian, a German, joined him, and the two began to talk war politics.

“Would you shoot the Germans if they invaded Switzerland?” asked the German.

“Oh, no, never!” exclaimed the soldier.

“Waiter, a pint of beer and a beefsteak with potatoes for this brave man,” ordered the civilian. “And your pals sitting at the next table—would they also not shoot the Germans if they tried to invade this country?”

“Oh, no, never!” retorted the Swiss.

“Waiter, a glass of beer for each of the soldiers at the next table!” ordered the civilian. And, addressing again the soldier, he asked: “Is this generally the view held in the Swiss army in regard to a possible German invasion? Are all the Swiss soldiers so Germanophil?”

“I don’t know,” replied the soldier.

“But why would you not shoot the Germans?”

“Because we belong to the band!”

SHOOK ALL OVER

She—“Tell me, when you were in the army were you cool in the hour of danger?”

He—“Cool? I actually shivered.”

THE ONLY HINDRANCE

Pat Molloy came in for his evening’s beverage, and paper in hand, as usual. The crowd kept quiet to hear the latest war news. Pat said the war had reached a crisis, and that there was only one obstacle between the Allied Forces and Berlin. His listeners were dumfounded, and one of them, recovering quicker than the others, asked:

“And what might that be, Pat?”

“Oh,” said Pat, emptying his glass; “it’s nothing but the Germany army.”

IRISH VS. GERMAN

The Irish Tommy, prisoner, was feeling very wroth with the destroyers of Louvain, when a German officer dashed by on what Paddy termed “a rare bit of horseflesh.”

“Faith, that’s an Irish horse,” said Paddy, and his eyes glinted maliciously at the Teutonic soldier, who had a fair knowledge of English, and at once took up the glove. They would probably have come to blows, in spite of Paddy’s precarious position, had not a compatriot of his proposed that whoever could tell the biggest lie might claim the horse for his country. Paddy forthwith began a tale which was one lie from beginning to end, and stopped triumphantly. Then his Teutonic opponent began, in slow, but correct, English:——

“There was once a German gentleman——”

“That settles it,” said Paddy, with a sigh of resignation; “the horse is a German one!”

WISE PRECAUTION

Rain was falling steadily as the weary cyclist plodded on through the mud. At last he spied a figure walking towards him through the gloom. Gladly he sprang off his machine, and asked the native:—

“How far off is the village of Poppleton?”

“Just ten miles the other way, sir,” was the reply.

“The other way!” exclaimed the cyclist. “But the last signpost I passed said it was in this direction.”

“Ah!” said the native, with a knowing grin, “but, ye see, we warped that there post round so as to fool those ’ere Zeppelins.”

A BLOODLESS BATTLE

The occasion was the regimental ball. The band was there, and the palms and the refreshment buffet and everything was lovely.

But in one corner, behind a beautiful green rampart of palms, the young lieutenant and the colonel’s daughter were trying to occupy the same chair, and were giving other evidence of the fact that their hearts had been pierced by some of Cupid’s darts.

Suddenly an intruder appeared—a fierce intruder in the uniformed personage of the young lady’s father. Instantly the chair was abandoned, and the youthful swain stood at attention.

“Sir,” he said, in sharp, staccato tones, “I have the honor to report an engagement, in which I have been entirely victorious. Now, sir, it merely remains for you to give your official sanction of the terms of surrender.”

AT A PARIS HOTEL

“My plate is damp.”

“Hush!” whispered his wife. “That’s your soup. They serve small portions in war time.”

THE LAST RESORT

Frau von Schmidt (of Berlin)—“Otto, where are we going for holidays this summer?”

Otto—“Well—er—there’s Turkey.”

CRUEL SPITE

Village Haberdasher—“Yew take it from me, sir, folk in our village be very spiteful agin the Germans. Why, Oi reckon Oi’ve sold fifty ’ankerchers wi’ Kitchener’s face on ’em!”

AN UNLOVED OFFICIAL

Actual extract from a sailor’s letter to his wife:

“Dear Jane,—I am sending you a postal order for 10s, which I hope you may get—but you may not—as this letter has to pass the Censor.”

EXTREMITY; MEANING FEET?

He—“I hear that you are knitting socks for the fighting soldiers.”

She—“Yes; man’s extremity is woman’s opportunity, you know.”

AS EVER

“Since the war began women have been taking the places of the men on the Paris street-cars.”

“Well, they’d do it here, but the men are too ill-mannered to get up.”

AN OLD JOKE WORKED OVER

A school teacher recently gave his pupils a lecture on patriotism. He pointed out the high motives which moved the Territorials to leave their homes and fight for their country.

The school teacher noticed that one boy did not pay attention to the instruction, and as a test question he asked him:

“What motives took the Territorials to the war?”

The boy was puzzled for a moment, then, remembering the public “send-off”