Versailles Number of Lampoon Voices Unspoken Words of All

The commuter, stopping in his unceasing search for daily bread, opens "Life's" mournful pages with the hope that perhaps some pleasing ray of light may issue from the same to cheer this dull world. But the dirges written there savor of some former day, of the rewards of a similar quest in the past, and he is astonished to find the cover of quite recent date.

In the Versailles Number of the Lampoon the unspoken words of a million readers are voiced in a criticism of the overdone war jokes. To prove the justice of his complaint Lampy, to the gratification of his many faithful readers, proceeds to give an idea of what he means by modern wit. Classicism may be very well in literature, but in the realm of humor, the modern commuter prefers something smacking less of Adam and the fig leaf. His efforts easily outrank former issues and vie with that masterpiece of 1918, the Graduates Number. We are told that poetry is that art dealing with the emotion through the imagination. In that case Lampy's reputation as a bard is firmly established, for by no other route have we, who stayed at home, been introduced to Versailles, the home of romance, and to Parls.

In the current issue of the Lampoon it is difficult to favor one morsel over another. Great credit must be accorded the artist whose creation decorates the cover. One man at present faces the world, and like all those who face the footlights, he must also face the music. In the Lampoon the strains are gentle and pleasing, without "Life's" harshness; yet they have a penetrating power peculiar to their composers, as in the case of his Excellency with one foot on the rail.

The illustrations in the Versailles Number are excellent, and the poetry and limericks beyond precedent. In the mind of the reader the only unhappy thought is that Lampy may be unable to maintain his standard