"
But Armageddon 1917 holds surprises even for those who live at the
bottom of a moat. For very early this morning a bauble fell into the
moat that Cyclops himself couldn't digest. The old cynic was found
floating, scarred belly upwards, on the surface of the water.
The mess-waiter took charge of the _post-mortem_. Like the _Duke of
Plaza Toro_, he "likes an interment" and rarely misses a last rite.
A keen fisherman, he had little difficulty in extracting an exhibit
for the Court's inspection, which he unhesitatingly pronounced to be
a diamond ring in an advanced state of decomposition.
The mess-cook, on the other hand, identified the relic as the
stopping, recently mislaid, from one of his back teeth.
In any case there seems little room for doubt that a Hun airman has
avenged the long-dead lady.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ENIGMA.
POLICEMAN (_on duty at St. Stephen's_). "STAND ASIDE, PLEASE."
MR. PUNCH. "WHAT'S HAPPENING?"
POLICEMAN. "PARLIAMENT REASSEMBLING."
MR. PUNCH. "WHY?"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Ex-Bus-driver (in difficulties in the roadless zone)._
"'ERE'S OLE PICCADILLY UP AGIN--FAIR IN THE 'IGHTH OF THE SEASON."]
* * * * *
THE MUD LARKS.
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