Part 7

The doctor made no comment, and the girl passed on. When her turn came again she appeared greatly confused, and said to the examiner, “Doctor, I wish to correct the answer I made last time. I meant to say that one-eighth of a grain should be given to the patient.”

“Too late,” remarked the physician, without looking up from his question paper. “The man’s dead.”

NOBODY CONCERNED

The wounded soldier was being attended by the doctor. The latter seemed to treat the case in a light-hearted manner. He prodded the soldier in the ribs, and grinned.

“You’ll be all right,” he said. “You’ve got a bullet in your left arm; but that does not trouble me in the least.”

“I don’t suppose it does,” said the soldier. “An’ if you’d got a bullet in both arms I don’t suppose it ’ud trouble me, either.”

HARD LUCK

He was a Canadian and he wore a corporal’s stripes. There he sat snugly in a sheltered part of his trench in that little corner of Belgium and played poker with a quartet of his comrades. Luck was against him. He had lost about everything he had to lose, when at the very height of the game—just after the dealer had done his best and worst—a shell came through the roof of the shelter, passed between the Canadian’s long, lean legs (luckily without hitting him), and buried itself harmlessly in the soft earth. The others of the party leaped up in not inexcusable haste and fled from the place, but the Canadian did not move.

The disturbance brought the company commander on the run.

“What’s up?” says he.

“Well, sir,” says the Canadian, “that there shell drops in on us and when it don’t explode at once I judge it is pretty safe not to go off at all. So I just set where I am. The cursed luck of it is that I’ve been playin’ away here all morning’ drawin’ rotten cards and losin’ my shirt, and here just as I holds the first four of a kind that’s gladdened my two eyes since Hector was a pup—and kings at that, sir—at that identical moment there comes this pifflin’ German turnip and the other fellows beats it.”

HOW HE TOOK HIS

English men-of-war have no ice-making machines on board, as do our ships, and everybody knows how the English fail to understand us on the subject of the use of ice, especially in our drinks.

An English officer was aboard one of our ships of the Asiatic fleet, and, on being served with an iced drink, commented on the delights of having cool water aboard. The American officer responded with an offer of a small cake of ice, which was sent the following morning. Meeting the Englishman ashore a week later, the American asked him if he had enjoyed the ice.

“Enjoy it, old top? Why, do you know, that was the first cold bawth I’ve had since I left England!”

WILLING TO OBLIGE

A recruit very anxious to join Kitchener’s Army enters recruiting station determined to accommodate himself to any condition required.

Officer (filling in form)—“What’s your religion?”

Zealous Recruit—“Well, what are you short of?”

CAUSE FOR PREJUDICE

“Why are you for the Allies?” a friend asked a solemn-looking neutral, who looked as if there had been much suffering in his life. “Is it because you abhor Prussian militarism?”

“No.”

“Is it that you fear Germany’s desire to expand, to absorb foreign lands? Is it that you dislike the German character?”

“No,” replied the solemn-looking individual.

“Well, why are you for the Allies?”

“Because,” said the other, with a pensive air, “I once ate some sauerkraut.”

SELF-BETRAYED

A sentry was giving close attention to his post in the neighborhood of a British army camp in England, challenging returning stragglers late after dark. The following is reported as an incident of his vigil:

“Who goes there?” called the sentry at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Coldstream Guards!” was the response.

“Pass, Coldstream Guards!” rejoined the sentry.

“Who goes there?” again challenged the sentry.

“Forty-ninth Highlanders!” returned the unseen pedestrian.

“Pass, Forty-ninth Highlanders!”

“Who goes there?” sounded a third challenge.

“None of your d——n business!” was the husky reply.

“Pass, Canadians!” acquiesced the sentry.

BRITISH HUMOR

The crew of the Harpalion, one of the British ships torpedoed off Beachy Head, arrived in London yesterday. Mr. S. Harper, the second officer, describing the experiences of the crew, said the ship was sailing down the Channel at the rate of about eleven and a half knots.

“We had just sat down to tea,” said Mr. Harper, “at the engineers’ table, and the chief engineer was saying grace. He had just uttered the words, ‘For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful,’ when there came an awful crash.”

A MIXED BLESSING

A gallant Tommy, having received from England an anonymous gift of socks, entered them at once, for he was about to undertake a heavy march. He was soon prey to the most excruciating agony, and when, a mere cripple, he drew off his foot-gear at the end of a terrible day, he discovered inside the toe of the sock what had once been a piece of stiff writing paper, now reduced to pulp, and on it appeared in bold, feminine hand the almost illegible benediction: “God bless the wearer of this pair of socks!”

OR A BASEBALL UMPIRE

“I saw a war picture, and one of the soldiers in the firing-line, amid bursting shells and dead and wounded men, was yawning.”

“He was probably a football-player to whom his surroundings seemed tame.”

NOT TO EXCEED HIS LIMIT

During the opening stages of the present war a certain soldier was told that there were three Germans to every one of the Allied forces in that part of the field.

Tommy went into action with great vigor, but later his company sergeant was horrified to see him shoulder his rifle and calmly march to the rear.

“Where are you off to?” he roared.

“Oh,” replied Tommy, “I’ve killed three of the enemy. I’ve done my share, so I’m off back to the camp.”

OUT OF HARM’S WAY

“If you had to go to war what position would you choose?”

“The drummer’s, I think.”

“Why so?”

“When a charge was ordered, I’d pick up my drum and beat it.”

SHOWING HIM HOW

The company was about to commence practice in trench-digging.

“Shall I show you how to handle the spade?” inquired a young officer of one private who was curiously watching the efforts of his companions.

“Aye, if tha likes,” responded the soldier.

“There you are,” commented the officer shortly afterwards, as he handed over the spade.

“Tha shapes pratty weel,” said the private, a collier from the Durham pits, “for a novice.”

NO EXCEPTION

Policeman (arresting burglar)—“Ain’t people worried enough by this war without burglaring their houses?”

Burglar—“All the papers are saying ‘business as usual.’”

IN HIS OWN LANGUAGE

Bill Bates, a coal miner, had joined Kitchener’s Army, and was undergoing musketry instruction.

The officer had been at some pains to impress upon the recruits that in loading a rifle they should place one cartridge in the barrel and ten in the magazine.

Singling out Bill, the officer said to him:

“Now, what do you do with your cartridges when loading?”

“Put one in t’ tunnel an’ ten in t’ can!” was the reply.

SCARED HIM TO THINK OF IT

The general was distributing medals for special valor. Summoning Private Bumptious to step forward, much to the general surprise of the ranks, he thundered out:

“Men, look upon this hero, and imitate his bravery! All through the long night he stood firm at his sentinel’s post, although completely surrounded by the enemy, and there he remained, calmly.”

Private Bumptious turned deadly pale. But before he fell in a faint to the ground, he gasped out:

“Then they were enemies! I thought they were our own troops.”

WHAT HAPPENED TO REIMS

“Wasn’t it fearful about the Reims cathedral?”

“Don’t say Reems; it sounds horribly ignorant.”

“Well, how do you pronounce it?”

“Why, Hranss.”

“How?”

“Hn—Hranhss! Just as if you were clearing your throat. See? Hranss!”

“Well, you sound as if you had a dreadful influenza, threatened with grip!”

“Well, that’s right, anyhow. H—hn—hnh—hrahnhss!”

“You’d better go to Arizona! You’ll never get well here! I don’t believe you, anyway. Everybody says Reems.”

“They don’t, either!”

“They do so!”

“Oh, well, it depends on the sort of people you associate with—”

“Well, I don’t go with a lot of fake highbrows, anxious to show off the French they learned in a course of lessons by mail—”

“Better than a lot of country junks who don’t know how to pronounce—”

“Oh, well, the church wasn’t hurt much, anyhow.”

“No, they say it can be repaired. How do you like my hat?”

“Heavenly! What do you think of mine?”

“Adorable! Let’s go in and have soda.”

“Let’s.”

REBUKE THAT DIDN’T WORK

British Teacher (to small boy)—“So you’ve come to school without a pen, eh? What would you say if one of our soldiers went to France without his gun?”

Tommy—“Please, sir, I should say he was an officer.”

SOMETHING TO THINK OF

The awkward squad had been having a lecture in musketry. Just before they were dismissed the instructor asked one of them:

“Why is the rifle placed in the hands of a soldier?”

“To protect my life,” came the prompt reply.

The instructor glared at him.

“Protect your life!” he snorted. “Who’s bothering about your life? The rifle, my lad, is placed in your hands for the destruction of the King’s enemies!”

A FAVORABLE BALANCE

A friend called on a merchant who did a large Continental business to offer him his sympathy.

“This must hit you very hard.”

“Very hard,” said the merchant. “I’ve over eleven hundred pounds owing to me in Germany, and it’s touch and go whether I ever get a penny of it. Still, we’ve got to put up with something for the country.”

“I’m glad you take it so cheerfully.”

“Well,” explained the merchant, “I owe over sixteen hundred pounds in Germany.”

DISREGARDING THE LIMIT

In order to stimulate rifle practice in a Lancashire district, especially amongst the rising generation, a match was arranged in which the competitors must be over fourteen years and under seventeen years of age.

The match was in progress, and there seemed to be not a few of the competitors who would never see another seventeenth birthday.

The climax was reached, however, when a young enthusiast, seeing the excellent score one of the competitors was making, astonished the spectators by shouting at the top of his voice:

“Go on, father; get another bull’s-eye!”

NO ABBREVIATIONS WANTED

A corporal in the Liverpool Scottish tells a good story of “the front.”

The sentry’s challenge is no longer the orthodox “Halt! Who goes there?” It is a short, prosaic, “Who are you?”

The other day a tired sentry challenged a party of the Princess Patricia’s Own Canadian Light Infantry. Back came the response, “P.P.O.C.L.I.”

“I don’t want to hear you say your alphabet,” growled the sentry. “Who the blazes are you?”

HIS SACRIFICE

“George, where are your school-books!”

“When notices appeared that books were wanted for the wounded, I gave mine to them.”—Humoristicke Listy (Prague).

UNSATISFACTORY OFFICER

They were about the rawest lot of recruits the sergeant had ever tackled. He worked hard for a couple of hours, and at last, thinking he had them licked into shape, he decided to test them.

“Right turn!” he barked; then, before they had ceased to move, barked again, “Left turn!”

One burly yokel slowly left the ranks and made off towards the barracks.

“Here, you!” yelled the sergeant, angrily, “where are you off to?”

“Ah’ve had enough on’t,” replied the recruit, in disgusted tones. “Tha dissent knaw thee arn mind two minutes stright running.”

PERPETUAL MOTION

“Excuse me, but do you mind keeping your dog indoors at night till the war is over?”

“Why?” said the surprised dog-owner to the stranger.

“Well, your dog’s barking sounds just like a ‘special’ boy shouting in the distance. My wife’s got two brothers at the front, and every time she hears your dog she sends me racing down to get the ‘special,’ and says I’ve been too stupid to catch the boy.”

MURDERING HIM

Very British Guest—“What! Brahms? You’re surely not going to sing German?”

Hostess (apologetically)—“Well, of course, I shall take care to sing it flat.”

SLACKER GETS BACK

Frederick Palmer, the war correspondent, was talking about England.

“Everything is war, war, war, over there,” he said. “Dear help the young man who is not in khaki. He has a dreadful time.

“Now and then, though, one of these slackers—as they are called—gets a bit of his own back.

“A slacker, for example, was passing a prison camp near London when an interned German shouted at him from the barbed wire fence:

“‘Hey, Kitchener vants you!’

“The slacker frowned. ‘What?’ he said.

“‘Kitchener vants you,’ the German repeated.

“‘Well, by Jove,’ said the slacker, ‘he’s got you, all right!’”

NEW CAUSE FOR WAR

Robert Skinner, ex-consul-general to London, said at a dinner:

“Of course neutrals see things from one viewpoint and belligerents from another. We all have our various viewpoints.

“An English inebriate was recently released from jail. To a friend who met him outside the prison gates he said:

“‘Well, mate, wot noose?’

“‘There’s a law agin’ treatin’, was the reply, ‘and pretty near the whole world is at war.’

“‘Just think,’ he said. ‘Just think of a no-treatin’ law havin’ sech an effect as that.’”

NO ROSE WITHOUT ITS THORN

The wounded soldier had reached home and was just out of a long delirium.

“Where am I?” he said, feebly, as he felt the loving hands making him comfortable. “Where am I? In heaven?”

“No, dear,” cooed his devoted wife. “I am still with you.”

A GOOD COME-BACK, BILL

A chaplain in the navy enjoys telling of his endeavors to induce a marine to give up the use of tobacco. During a talk that ensued between the two, the chaplain said:—

“After all, Bill, you must reflect that in all creation there is not to be found any animal except man that smokes.”

The marine sniffed.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and you won’t find, either, any other animal in all creation that cooks its food, or wears clothes.”

ON THE SAFE SIDE

Zealous Sentry—“Afraid I can’t let you go by without the password, sir.”

Irate Officer—“But, confound you! I tell you I have forgotten it. You know me well enough. I’m Major Jones.”

Sentry—“Can’t help it, sir; must have the password.”

Voice from the Guard-Tent—“Oh, don’t stand arguing all night, Bill; shoot ’im.”

COULDN’T BE DONE

The English official had been telling the old Scottish farmer what he must do in the case of a German invasion on the East Coast of Scotland.

“An’ hiv I reely tae dae this wi’ a’ ma beesties gin the Germans come?” asked the old fellow at the finish.

The official informed him that such was the law, “All live stock of every description must be branded and driven inland.”

“Dearie me!” gasped the farmer, in dismay. “I’m thinking I’ll hae an awful; ob wi’ ma bees!”

ON THE FIRING LINE

A stranger became one of a group of listeners to a veteran of many battles. The veteran had about concluded a vividly colored narrative of a furious battle, in which he had taken part.

“Just think of it,” exclaimed one of the party, turning to the stranger. “How would you like to stand with shells bursting all around you?”

“I have been there,” responded the newcomer.

“What? Have you, too, been a soldier?”

“No,” answered the stranger. “I am an actor.”

A MATTER OF TRADE

Outside one of the recruiting depots in a large town a sergeant saw a smart young milkman, and, thinking to get a fresh recruit, said:

“Young man, would you like to serve the King?”

“Rather!” said the milkman, eagerly. “How many quarts does he want?”

NOT LIKELY

Two Irishmen were walking into Dublin from one of the outlying villages, and fell to discussing the war and the consequent increase in the cost of living.

“But have ye heard the latest news?” says Tim.

“No,” says Pat. “Phwat is it?”

“There’s a penny off the loaf.”

“Bedad,” says Phat, “I hope it’s off the penny ones.”

IMPORTANT POSTSCRIPT

An Army officer’s wife wrote to a Royal Army medical corps officer saying her child was suffering during teething; she addressed the letter “Dr. Brown.”

The recipient returned it with the remark that he should be addressed “Brigade-Surgeon Lieutenant-Colonel Brown.”

Whereupon the lady wrote back:—

“Dear Brigade-Surgeon Lieutenant-Colonel Brown—I am sorry about mistake.—Yours, May Jones.

“P. S.-Please bring your sword to lance baby’s gums.”

OR A SCRAP OF PAPER

“I suppose you had a good deal of trouble when you spent your holiday in Germany this summer?” said Mrs. De Jinks.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Von Slammerton; “chiefly in the matter of getting money, however. Why, would you believe it, Mrs. De Jinks, a letter of credit over there wasn’t of any more value than a treaty of neutrality?”

NOT TO BE OUTDONE

An Irishman who had recently joined Lord Kitchener’s Army was sitting in a railway refreshment room the other day, when two smart young soldiers entered. Thinking to make the Irishman look small, one of them went up to the young lady attendant and asked for “A good cigar for a Hussar!”

A little time afterwards the other one went up and said: “A glass of beer for a Grenadier!”

Pat was not to be taken down so easily, and after a few moments’ thought went up to the bar and, in a loud voice, ordered “A good tea for a V. C.!”

NEVER FAZED HIM

At a recruiting meeting recently the speaker, having got his audience in a high state of enthusiasm by telling them of the many brave deeds of the British soldiers in France, suddenly espied a big, strongly built man at the back of the hall. “My man,” he cried, “how is it that you are not at the front?”

“Oh, it is all right,” replied the burly yokel; “I can hear every word you say from here.”

STAY-AT-HOME TOILET

A South London resident, whose garden runs down to the railway line, has hit upon a novel recruiting advertisement.

He has hung out two old petticoats with a poster reading:

“If you won’t help your King and Country now you had better wear these.”

WHY BE NEUTRAL?

If you favor war, dig a trench in your back yard, fill it half full of water, crawl into it, and stay there for a day or two without anything to eat, get a lunatic to shoot at you with a brace of revolvers and a machine-gun, and you will have something just as good, and you will save your country a great deal of expense.

BATHING IN TEARS

“Some of the soldiers in those trenches,” said a doctor, recently back for a rest, “don’t get a chance to wash for weeks at a time. They eat like bears, they never take cold, their health is superb—but, dear me, how they look, with never a wash!

“A humorist of the Coldstream Guards was singing in a second-line trench a parody of ‘Tipperary.’ It was a funny parody, and in the midst of it a young sergeant shouted to the singer:—

“Yer makin’ me laugh till I cry, Bill! Won’t yer stop it? The tears are makin’ me face all muddy.’”

WHERE HE COULDN’T GO

A few Sundays ago Bobby’s mother was hurrying him to get ready for Sunday-school. Bobby (aged seven), not being very fond of Sunday-school, was grumbling all the time about schools in general and Sunday-schools in particular. Finally, to give vent to his feelings, he exclaimed:—

“I wish there was only one Sunday-school in the world, and that—er—that one was in Germany.”

PEACE SUGGESTION

Ernest P. Bicknell, national director of the American Red Cross, said on his return from Belgium to a Washington reporter:

“If peace is to come, each side must do its share. Advances must be made like the girl, you know.

“A young millionaire said to a beautiful girl on a moonlit beach between two dances:

“‘Don’t you like that Shakespearean quotation:

“‘“The friends thou hast and their adoption tried, Grapple them to they soul with hoops of steel”?’

“The girl sighed.

“‘Beautiful,’ she said. ‘Beautiful. But wouldn’t hoops of gold be better?’”

HEADING HIM OFF

An absentee soldier at West London police court complained that he had not been able to get a decent dinner at the police station and that he was hungry.

“Well, I like to show consideration to men serving their country,” said the magistrate. “Would you like something now?”

“Yes, I could do with tea and bread and butter,” the soldier answered.

“All right,” said the magistrate, but the soldier amended his request.

“Can I have tea, bread and butter and cheese?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” said the magistrate, laughing, “but take him away, jailer, before he asks for champagne and oysters.”

CAPTURED, NOT STOLEN

A British soldier in Belgium was one morning wending his way to camp with a fine rooster in his arms when he was stopped by his colonel to know if he had been stealing chickens.

“No, colonel,” was the reply, “I saw the old fellow sitting on the wall and I ordered him to crow for England, and he wouldn’t, so I just took him prisoner.”

LANDED A LARGE ORDER

A Herculean soldier, arriving at Liverpool by rail, somewhat travel-stained, was passing along Lime Street when he stopped and called on a street arab to shine his boots. His feet were in proportion to his height, and, looking at the tremendous boots before him, the arab knelt down on the pavement and, hailing a companion near by, exclaimed:—

“Billie, come o’er and gie’s a hand; I’ve got an army contract.”

WELCOME RELIEF

A chap had just gone to Flanders from the training camp in Devon, and his calmness and cheerfulness under German fire impressed everyone. So much so, in fact, that his corporal declared:

“I never saw a new hand settle right down to it like George.”

“Oh,” said another recruit, “if you knew George’s wife, corporal, you’d understand how the poor fellow enjoys a quiet day among the vitriol sprays and poison bombs.”

THE USUAL QUERY

An English school inspector, who did not look beyond military age, got a Roland for his Oliver the other day. He invited a class he was examining to put questions to him.

“Now, boys,” he said, “don’t be shy; it’s your turn now. Ask me any question you like on any subject you like, and if I can, I’ll answer it.”

After hesitating, a small but courageous boy held up his hand and blurted out: “Why are you not in khaki?”

BEST OF REASONS

“No, sir, I don’t believe in war,” cried the little man. “It means invasion and confiscation and a forcible and brutal alteration of existing boundaries.”

The man across the way turned to his companion and asked in a whisper who the little man was.

“He is a mapmaker,” the companion whisperingly replied, “and he’s got an immense stock of old maps on hand.”

MOST UNUSUAL

A British officer inspecting sentries guarding the line in Flanders came across a raw-looking yoeman.

“What are you here for?” he asked.

“To report anything unusual, sir.”

“What would you call unusual?”

“I dunno exactly, sir.”

“What would you do if you saw five battleships steaming across the field?”

“Sign the pledge, sir.”

MORE SURFACE TO COVER

The people of Luxemburg are not wanting in a sense of humor. One day an officer of the Prussian Guard entered a barber shop and had a shave. Whereupon he tendered to the barber a twopenny piece.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the barber, “but it’s threepence now.”

“Why threepence?” asked the Kaiser’s Guardsman. “In August last you only charged me twopence.”

“That’s true enough,” was the barber’s reply; “but since the Battle of the Marne your face has grown much longer.”

WORSE THAN WURST

They were talking of the war.

“What an age we are living in, to be sure!” said one.

“Yes,” replied the other; “it is the German sauce age.”

SHE KNEW PADDY

When a certain Dublin woman was informed a few days ago that her son had been captured by the Germans with other prisoners, and that he had been put into a chain-gang, she said, with great emotion:—

“Heaven help the man that’s chained to our Paddy.”

HE HAD SMOKED ONE

English Host—“I thought of sending some of these cigars out to the front.”

The Victim—“Good idea! But how can you make certain that the Germans will get them?”

SALVAGE