'No stone will be left unturned,' he said, 'to ease the
position.'"--_Daily Paper_.

This accounts, no doubt, for the stuff in our last half-hundredweight.

* * * * *

A JUNKER INTERLUDE.

Once more the Militant Mode recurs
With clank of sabre and clink of spurs;
Once more the long grey cloaks adorn
The bellicose backs of the high-well-born;
Once more to the click of martial boots
Junkers exchange their grave salutes,
Taking the pavement, large with side,
Shoulders padded and elbows wide;
And if a civilian dares to mutter
They boost him off and he bites the gutter.

Down by the Brandenburger Thor
Kitchens are worked by cooks of war;
Loyal moustaches cease to sag,
Leaping for joy of the old war-flag;
Drums are beating and bugles blare
And passionate bandsmen rip the air;
Prussia's original ardour rallies
At the sound of _Deutschland über alles_,
And warriors slap their fighting pants
To the tune _Heil dir im Siegeskranz_.