Volume 147 — SEARCHLIGHTS ON THE MERSEY.
Reading edition
A long lean bar of silver spans The ebon-rippled water-way, And like a lost moon's errant ray Strikes on the passing caravans— Ghost-ships that from the desert seas Loom silent through the steady beams, Pale phantoms of elusive dreams Cargoed with ancient memories. Through the long night across the cool Black waters to their shrouded berth, Bearing the treasures of the earth, Glide the fair ships to Liverpool.
"Londoner" in The Evening News:—
"Long live King Leopold, a faithful prince if ever there was one, as loyal to his brave Belgians as they, gallant souls that they are, are loyal to him. Does he, I wonder, ever take a look at his family pedigree?"
Because, if so, he would discover that his name was really Albert.
THE KING AT THE FRONT.
"Tommy", (having learned the language). "VIVE LE ROI!"
Michael (gloomily). "Mummy, I do hope I shan't die soon."
Mummy. "Darling! So do I—but why?"
Michael. "It would be too awful to die a civilian."