The Commons heard some good news. Mr. KENDALL'S pathetic story of an
angling-party which, after walking five miles along a dusty road to
its favourite hostelry, found it adorned with the now too frequent
notice, "Closed--No Beer," brought a most sympathetic reply from Mr.
GEORGE ROBERTS, who boldly confessed, "I am a believer in good beer
myself," and later on announced that the Government had decided to
increase the output from twenty million to twenty-six million standard
barrels.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Geordie (after intently watching conductor of Jazz
band for some time)._ "AH'VE HAD ENOUGH O' THIS. YON CHAP WI' STICK'S
ONLY CODDIN'. HE'S NOT HIT ONE OF 'EM SINCE WE CAAME IN."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Farmer._ "WELL, I BE MAIN GLAD TO SEE YOU BACK FROM
THE WAR. I SUPPOSE YOU'LL BE THINKING OF TAKING TO WORK NOW?"]
* * * * *
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
The original answer to the question at the head of these insignificant
remarks was (correct me if I am wrong) nothing. "A rose," said
_Juliet_, "by any other name would smell as sweet." But of course she
was wrong. If a rose were handed to a visitor in the garden, with the
words, "Do see how wonderful this onion is!" such a prejudice would be
set up as fatally to impair its fragrance.
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