Echoes of Easter Week
Ireland has receded a little from her place in the limelight, and though debates on martial law continue, and Irish members ask an inordinate number of questions arising out of the hot Easter week in Dublin, the temperature is no longer "'98 in the shade" as a local wit described it at the time. Ministers are extremely economical of information: the anticipated
THE FAR-REACHING EFFECT OF THE RUSSIAN PUSH
settlement still hangs fire, and there are increasing fears that it will not hold water.
A number of professional fortune-tellers have been fined at Southend for having predicted Zeppelins. The fraudulent nature of their pretensions was sufficiently manifest, since even the authorities had been unable to foresee the Zeppelins until some time after they had arrived.
The discussions in Parliament and out of it of the way in which things get into the papers which oughtn't to, are dying down. A daily paper, however, has revived them by the headline, "Cabinet leekage." Now, why, in wonder, do they spell it in that way?
It is quite impossible to keep pace with all the new incarnations of women in war-time—'bus-conductress, ticket-
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