Chapter 2

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"Required, very small nicely Furnished House or Cottage. Bathroom and good private girls' school within easy walk essential."--_Daily Paper_.

There is nothing so invigorating as a little walk before one's bath.

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_SEMPER EADEM_.

A prisoner, Gunner Grogan, E., To-day will be brought up to me For impudence and sloth; _Reveillé_ only made him sneer; Aroused, he lipped a Bombardier (And very natural--both).

And I shall counter, with disdain, His feeble efforts to explain Or justify such deeds. It will be funny if I fail To twist young Gunner Grogan's tail, That being what he needs.

I know he isn't really bad; Myself, I rather like the lad. (And loathe that Bombardier!) Beneath his buttons--none too bright-- May lurk the spirit of a knight-- A thwarted cavalier.

For some who fought at Creçy, too, Snored on or scoffed when trumpets blew, And presently were caught; And when the clanking N.C.O.'s Came round to prod them, I suppose They up and spoke their thought.

Then they were for it; up they went Paraded by the Prince's tent, While he, to meet the crime, Recalled the nastiest words he knew, And learned the worst that he could do From "K.R." of the time.

And yet such criminals as those Did England proud with English bows As schoolboys have to read; And Gunner Grogan would to-day Prove every bit as stout as they Should there arise the need.

But just as heroes of Romance, Who dodged parades with half a chance, Were strafed--and mighty hard-- So likewise Gunner Grogan, E., Employed in making history, Will do an extra guard.

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"We are informed by the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of Bristol that his Lordship still has a supply of famous men connected with the great war, and will be pleased to supply them to applicants."--_Evening Times and Echo (Bristol)_.

Will the PRIME MINISTER please note?

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"A conference of the Ministers of departments concerned will take place in London to arrange measures for their execution."--_Daily Chronicle_.

Anticipated comment from _The Mourning Toast_: "And quite time, too."

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"Lord Lawrence, once Viceroy of India, said, 'Notwithstanding all that English people have done to benefit India, the missionaries have done more than all other agonies combined.'"--_Malay Tribune_.

Missionaries in the East have a lot to put up with.

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A LETTER FROM THE FRONT

ON A PURELY DOMESTIC MATTER.

MY DEAR WIFE,--Yours to hand of the 10th inst., and contents, _re_ son, noted. I observe that you are for the moment satisfied with his progress, and that you feel yourself in a position to be able to see your way to inform me that he is beginning to have and express ideas of his own on all subjects. He shows himself a fine fellow, and you have every reason to be as happy as it is possible to be in wartime.

By the same post arrived the new uniform from Dover Street, London, W. You will be glad to hear that Messrs. Blenkinson have done us proud, managing to carry out your many suggestions without departing from regulation. They make a fine fellow of me, neat but not gaudy, striking in appearance without being offensive to the eye. Once more they too have shown themselves fine fellows. We are all fine fellows; my dear, you are positively surrounded on all sides by fine fellows, and it would look as if, given peace, we are all together going to be as happy as the day is long.

So I thought at first blush; but are we so sure? The separate ingredients are excellent; there couldn't be a better son than Robert or better tailors than Messrs. Blenkinson. But how will they blend? Mind you, I'm not daring to doubt the courtesy and tact of a single Blenkinson; but these views which son Robert is beginning to form, where will they lead him ... and us ... and the Blenkinsons? Again, I'm not suggesting that Robert will ever go to such lengths in view-forming as to dare to attack such an anciently and honourably established firm as Messrs. Blenkinson; indeed, I could almost wish it might fall out that way, and that they and I might continue, without intervention, upon our present terms of mutual esteem and entire satisfaction. If things stand so well between us, while I am but young, claiming no higher rank or standing than that of Captain (Temp.), how much more must we flourish when I have risen to those heights to which we know I am bound to reach in my full maturity? Against such an alliance even the youthful and vigorous Robert would hurl himself and his criticisms in vain. No, I foresee a danger more subtle and formidable than that.

Some of the very first views that Robert forms will be on the subject of clothes. His very desire to be perfectly dressed will take him to Blenkinsons', and, when he has spent two hours trying on the very latest, his desire to get me, at any rate, passably dressed will induce him to say to Mr. Blenkinson, senior: "I say, can't you do something to stop the governor wearing clothes like _that?_"

Blenkinson, having long anticipated and dreaded this, will at once hasten round to the back with the tape-measure; but Robert will catch him when he comes round again and say, "I shouldn't have believed that _you_ would ever consent to make such clothes as he insists on wearing."

Blenkinson perforce will smile that deferential and conciliatory smile of his, which seems to say: "We entirely agree with you, Sir, but it isn't for us to say so."

Robert, blown out with conceit, upon being tacitly corroborated by Blenkinsons in a matter of taste, will pursue the subject mercilessly, until his victim is forced into some definite statement. Looking round to see that he cannot possibly be overheard, Blenkinson, senior, will be led by his too perfect courtesy to commit himself. "Well, Sir," he will murmur, "we have on one or two occasions dared to hint that his cut was rather out of date, and would he permit us to alter it in some small particulars? But Sir Reginald" (or shall we make it "the General"?) "prefers, quite rightly, of course, to decide these things for himself."

"'Quite rightly' be blowed," Robert will retort. "We know and he doesn't. Can't you make him understand? You can sometimes get him to be reasonable, if you stick to him long enough."

Blenkinson will be quite unable to let his old and honoured customer go entirely undefended or unexcused on so grave an issue. "We fancy, Sir, that the General" (or shall we say "His Lordship"?) "understands just as well as we do, Sir, but...."

"But what?" Robert would exclaim, a little exasperated to hear it suggested in his presence that I understand anything.

Mr. Blenkinson, senior, will rub his chin, wondering very much whether he is justified in allowing himself to go so far as to hint at the truth in this instance. "But--er--well, Sir," will be extracted from him at last, "we gather--er--we gather, Sir--er'm--her Ladyship insists."

I see Robert's face clear and I hear him say in quite a different tone, "Oh, I'll soon manage mother for you." And off he trots home, and in a week or less I have to adopt his ridiculously ugly, obviously impracticable and damnably uncomfortable fashions--tight trousers and high collars, no doubt.

Yes, that's where Robert, and you, with your Robert, are leading me, confound you both. It will be as bad as that; confound you both.

"Don't speak like that, even in jest," you'll say brazenly.

"But damme, Mary--"

"And I certainly will not have my name coupled with that sort of language, please."

I shall appeal to Robert to bear evidence that I am the injured party, and not you. Robert of course will stand by you, and you, worthless woman that you are, will sink your identity and sacrifice your soul and stand by TIGHT TROUSERS AND HIGH COLLARS.

And I shall get red in the face (and at the back of the neck).

And in the end I shall have to make good by taking you all out to the most expensive dinner, theatre and supper possible--very nice for you two, no doubt, but what about me in those infernal trousers and collars?

It will right itself in the end, for I cannot believe your reason will permanently forsake you, even for that precious nut of a Robert. Eventually we shall prefer, unanimously you and I, to slink about the back streets, clothed in our own ideas, rather than promenade the fashionable parts clothed in Robert's.

Do you say to yourself that that supreme test, the sacrifice of Piccadilly, Bond Street and the Park, is too much? Don't cry, darling; it will never be as bad as that. And why? Because, according to that incredibly stupid young man, Robert, Piccadilly, Bond Street and the Park will then be the back streets, in which no decent people, except out-of-date, old-fashioned fogeys like ourselves, would ever consent to be seen. So it is really myself who is still alone. Yours, R.

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LOVELY WOMAN.

If the casual gods send inquiring strangers into my camp, let them (the intruders) be civil, please, or at least be male. Citizens I can at once wave away with a regretful _nescio vos_; foot-officers are decently reserved in their thirst for knowledge of an essentially Secret Service; but officers' wives--

I was growing to like the Royal Gapshire Cyclists (H.D.), my neighbours in the next field, until last Friday, when they perpetrated their Grand Athletic Tournament. Quite early in the day twos and threes of subalterns, with here and there a company commander, dribbled across with a diffident wish to be shown round the guns, and round we went. By the ninth tour I was wearying fast of the cicerone act, and hoping they would not mistake my dutiful reticence for stuffiness. They had made me free of a mess that has its points. Then, towards tea-time, She came. The Major, who brought, introduced Her, apologised (not for bringing Her) and withdrew. He was due to start the Three-Legged Obstacle Relay. She, on the other hand, was _so_ interested, and _would_ I, etc.? Would I not!

"Lovely woman!" thought I. "Fit soil for a romantic seed! Farewell reserve and half-told truth!" I then proceeded to describe unto her things unattempted yet in Field, Garrison, or High Angle Ballistics. Her first question (pointing to the recoil-controlling gear of No. 2 gun), whether _both_ barrels were fired at once, gave me a cue priceless and not to be missed. My imagination held good for full fifteen minutes, and by the time we were ambling back to the fence I had got on to our new sensitive electrical plant for registering the sound, height, range, speed and direction of hostile aircraft. The fluent ease of it intoxicated, and I was lucky not to mar the whole by working in something crude and trite about the pilot's name.

She departed, smiling radiant thanks, and I thought no more of it until this morning, when Post Orderly handed me the following note:--

"DEAR SIR,--It was too kind of you to tell me all about your guns the other day, and it was too bad of me to let you. I ought to have mentioned that my husband is _the_ Colonel Strokes, of the High Angle Ordnance Council. One of his favourite remarks is that the one woman of his acquaintance who knows more about artillery than a cow does of mathematics is

"Very sincerely yours,

"EVELYN STROKES.

"P.S.--Do you by any chance write?"

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COMMERCIAL CANDOUR.

From a company's report:--

"Interim dividend on the Ordinary snares for half-year ended July 31, 1917, at the rate of 10 per cent. per annum, less income tax."--_Evening Paper._

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"A twelve-year-old boy was at Aberavon on Thursday sent to a reformatory school for five years. He was charged with stealing 5-1/2 6-5/8 Nbegetable marrows from an allotment."--_Western Mail._

It is supposed that he intended to reduce them to decimals.

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CRICKET.

There is no truth in the rumour that spectacular cricket is to be resumed. It is perfectly true that a section of the public who are devoted to watching the game and cannot understand why, because the nations happen to be at war, this favourite summer recreation should be denied them, have been agitating for the Government to arrange with the War Office to release all first-class cricketers now in the Forces, so that they may be free to play matches at home. It is also true that the Government, having refused to do this, subsequently, in view of the arguments urged by a deputation of cricket enthusiasts, agreed to do so, since it has always set its face against any pedantic rigidity of purpose. But none the less no such matches will be played, for the simple reason that the cricketers themselves refuse to come back until their job is finished.

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"Boots.--Save nearly 50% buying Factory direct."--_News of the World_.

On second thoughts we think we shall continue buying one pair at a time.

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THE BALLAD OF JONES'S BLIGHTY.

There are some men who dwell for years Within the battle's hem, Almost impervious, it appears, To shot or stratagem; Some well-intentioned sprite contrives By hook or crook to save their lives (It also keeps them from their wives), And Jones was one of them.

The hugest bolts of Messrs. KRUPP Hissed harmless through his hair; The Bosch might blow his billet up, But he would be elsewhere; And if with soul-destroying thud A monstrous Minnie hit the mud, The thing was sure to be a dud If only Jones was there.

Men envied him his scatheless skin, But he deplored the fact, And day by day, from sheer chagrin, He did some dangerous act; He slew innumerable Huns, He captured towns, he captured guns; His friends went home with Blighty ones, But he remained intact.

We had a horse of antique shape, Mild and of mellowed age, And, after some unique escape, Which made him mad with rage, On this grave steed Jones rode away... They bore him back at break of day, And Jones is now with Mrs. J.-- The convalescent stage.

The world observed the chance was droll That sent so mild a hack To smite the invulnerable soul Whom WILLIAM could not whack; But spiteful folk remarked, of course, He must have used terrific force Before he got that wretched horse To throw him off its back.

A.P.H.

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ANOTHER IMPENDING APOLOGY.

"Many coolies of the savage tribes from the hilly places, who have been enlisted for the labour corps, were seen passing this town by train lately. Some had too few clothes. Our late Chief Secretary, the Hon'ble Mr. ----, was seen among them."--_Times of Assam_.

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"All can sympathise with Mr. ---- and his teetotal party in deploring the excesses of 'liquor' of any description, and the vice, want and misery it brings in its course. But we cannot for a single moment listen to their selfish and pitiful beatings, when we know that if their methods were carried out through the land it would people our beloved country with a virile race of effete degenerates."--_Provincial Paper_.

"Virile" is good, and should encourage the teetotalers to proceed with their "beatings."

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GERMAN CAVALRY IN (AND OUT OF) ACTION.

"'Polybe,' writing in the _Figaro_, estimates the German losses at 20,000 horse de combat on the first day of the battle."--_Local Paper_.

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"Following the Franco-German war an epidemic of smallpox raged throughout Europe, which was not checked until Jenner's famous vaccination discovery."--_Liverpool Echo_.

It is sad to think that JENNER's discovery, made in 1796, should have remained dormant till after 1870.

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"Mr. Gerard's reminiscences have caused much perturbation in German Court circles."--_Daily Paper_.

Little scraps of paper, Little drops of ink Make the KAISER caper And the Nations think.

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"A money prize offered to boys at Barcombe, Suxxes, for killing cabbage butterflies resulted in over 4,000 insects being destroyed. The winner, Victor King, accounted for 1,395."--_Liverpool Echo_.

We congratulate him on his Suxxes.

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"One new thing he [Mr. HENDERSON] disclosed was that in his pervious statement that carried the Conference to the Stockholm vote, &c."--_Daily Mail_.

As "pervious," according to WEBSTER, means "capable of being seen through," we think the printer is to be congratulated.

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AN IDEAL MEDICAL BOARD.

(_A DREAM OF THE FUTURE_.)

I was due to go in front of the local Medical Board next morning, and I was seeking distraction in the evening paper. Suddenly my eye was caught by the headlines announcing the transfer of recruiting arrangements from the Military to the Civil authorities. This promised to be interesting.

All at once the room grew misty, and when the atmosphere cleared again I found myself in the open street. Before me was a palatial building with the words "_Medical Board_" carved on a marble slab over the main entrance.

I entered, and was immediately confronted by a liveried janitor who bowed obsequiously.

"I have come to be medically examined," I explained.

"Yes, Sir," he replied. "Will you be good enough to wait one moment, Sir, while I settle with your taxi-driver, and then I will take you to the waiting-room, Sir."

"I have no taxi," I said. "I just walked."

An expression of concern passed across his face.

"Oh, you shouldn't have done that, Sir. The Authorities don't like it. There is a special fund for such expenses, you know, Sir. Will you please come this way, Sir?"

I followed him along the corridor, and was shown into a luxurious apartment overlooking a pleasant garden. The janitor placed an easy chair in position for me, handed me a copy of _Punch_, and brought me a glass of wine and some biscuits.

"Now, Sir, if you will give me your papers I will send them up to the Board."

I handed the packet to him, and he left the room.

A few minutes later a message-girl entered.

"Are you Mr. Smith?" she inquired.

I confessed that I was, upon which she handed me a sealed envelope. I opened it, and found a letter and a cheque for five pounds. The letter ran as follows:--

"SIR,--The above-named Medical Board regrets its inability to examine you to-day. As you are no doubt aware, it is contrary to its rule to examine more than three persons in one day, and an unusually difficult case, held over from yesterday, has upset all its arrangements.

"The Board would consider it a favour if you could make it convenient to call again to-morrow morning at the same time.

"The enclosed cheque is intended to compensate you for the unnecessary trouble to which you have been put.

"Your obedient Servants ----"

Punctually at the time appointed I again entered the building, and was met by the same janitor.

"The Board is quite ready for you, Sir," he said. "Will you please ascend to the dressing-room, Sir?"

He committed me to the care of a lift-girl, who conveyed me to the second storey. Here I was handed over to a smart valet, who assisted me to undress in a comfortable little apartment replete with every convenience.

Having donned a warm dressing-gown, I was conducted to the Board Room, where I found a dozen of our greatest Specialists assembled. The President shook hands and greeted me effusively. Then I passed in turn from one Doctor to another, each making, with the utmost delicacy and consideration, a thorough examination of that part of my anatomy on which he was an acknowledged expert.

When this was over I was invited to retire to the dressing-room and resume my garments while the Board held a protracted consultation on my case. On returning to the Board Room I was provided with a seat, and the President addressed me.

"Well, Mr. Smith, we can find nothing constitutionally wrong with you. But tell me, have you ever had any serious illness?"

I shook my head. I had always been abnormally healthy.

"Think carefully," he urged. "We don't want to pass you as fit if we can help it."

He seemed so anxious that I felt ashamed to disappoint him.

"Well," I replied, "the only thing I can call to mind is that, according to my mother, I had a severe teething rash when I was ten months old."

As I uttered these words the faces of all became suddenly grave.

"That is quite enough, Mr. Smith," said the President. "You are given total exemption. You should never have been brought here at all, but I am sure you will realise that in times of national emergency mistakes of this nature are bound to occur. If you will apply to the Cashier on your way out he will give you a draft for twenty pounds, to reimburse you in some small way for the loss of your valuable time. Good-bye!"

He held out his hand, but before I could grasp it a mist again enveloped me, from which I emerged upon the dreadful facts of life.

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SONGS OF FOOD PRODUCTION

VI.

BALLAD OF THE POTATO.

Above three hundred years ago To Britain's shores there came An immigrant of lineage low-- Sol Tuberose his name.

He settled down in mean estate, Despised on every side, Until at last he waxéd great, Grew rich and multiplied.

Now none so popular as he; To every house he goes, At every table he must be-- The great Sol Tuberose!

In time of war he proves his worth He helps us everywhere; There's nothing on (or in) this earth That can with him compare.

Not the great LLOYD could save the land Except for mighty Sol; For he is Bread's twin-brother--and He gives us Alcohol;

Not such as fills the toper's tum, But such as fills the shell-- Such as will be in days to come Heat, light, and pow'r as well.

Yes, in the spacious days to come We'll bless Sol Tuberose, When all our motor engines hum On what the farmer grows.

Then cultivate him all you can, With him and his stand well in; There's one that is a _Nobleman_, There's one _Sir John Llewellyn_.

There's one that is a _British Queen_, There's one a dwarf, _Ashleaf_, There's one that is a plain _Colleen_, There's one an _Arran Chief_.

He'll serve us if we do him well (Last year he failed our foes). Oh, who can all the praises tell Of good Sol Tuberose!

W.B.

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THE REVENANT.

"CAPTAIN STANLEY WILSON'S RETURN HOME.

"CHEERFUL AND WELL AFTER LONG INTERMENT."--_Yorkshire Post_.

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