Chapter 2

But, when evening came and the tower still stood untouched, 0000th Battery began to be worried indeed. A little more of this and they might as well blow themselves up. They would be disgraced, a laughing-stock to the whole Front. After hopeless arguments and bitter recriminations they turned in with the intention of beginning again bright and early in one last stupendous effort.

Great and shattering was their surprise when the dawn showed them no tower at all, nothing but a heap of rubble in the midst of desolation. The hated O.P. had disappeared in the night.

0000th Battery rubbed its eyes and wild surmise ran from man to man. "An unexploded shell must 'ave gorn orf in the night."

"A mine may 'ave bin laid under 'er, and somethink's touched it off, like."

But the real explanation, stranger still, was supplied later by a letter dropped from a Taube flying over the Battery's position. It ran thus:--

"Having noticed with regret that the enemy objected to the tower in front of X position, the Ober-Kommando gave orders to have it removed, in the interests of the surrounding country."

* * * * *

"Once or twice in the course of his speech Mr. Macdonald spoke of himself and his Labour friends as 'we.' 'Who are "we"?' sharply challenged Mr. Wardle, reviving a question familiar in the annals of split parties. 'You knof perfectly wel thlat you are not inclueddin the "we,"' was the retort."--_Manchester Guardian_.

Pretty crushing, wasn't it?

* * * * *

* * * * *

FRAGMENT OF A TRAGEDY.

_Dramatis Personæ_. A Staff Officer. A Colonel. A Captain. A Herald. Chorus of Officers' Servants and Orderlies.

SCENE.--_Exterior of Battalion Headquarters Dug-out_.

_Leader of Chorus_. Ho! friends, a stranger cometh; by his dress Some nobleman of leisure, I should guess; Come, let us seem to labour, lest he strafe; A soldier ever eye-washes the Staff.

_Chorus start work, singing_. Brighter than the queenly rose, Brighter than the setting sun, Brighter than old Ginger's nose The raiment of the gilded one.

The red tab points towards each breast, The red band binds his forehead stern; The rainbow ribbons on his chest Proclaim what fires within him burn.

Upon his throne amid the din He sits serene--yet sometimes stoops To take a kindly interest in The trousers issued to the troops.

_Enter_ Staff Officer.

_Staff Officer_. Ho, slaves! your Colonel seeking have I come.

_L. of C._ This is his house, but he is far from home.

_Staff O._ And whither gone? Reply without delay.

_L. of C._ Ask of the Captain. See, he comes this way.

_Enter_ Captain _from dug-out_.

_Captain_. Immaculate stranger, hail! What lucky chance Has brought you to this dirty bit of France?

_Staff O_. Not chance. A conscientious Brigadier Has sent me hither.

_Captain_. And what seek you here?

_Staff_. I seek your Colonel.

_Captain_. He is up the line. 'Tis said the foe will soon explode a mine, And we must be prepared should he attack.

_Staff O_. I think I will await his coming back.

_Captain_. Then chance to me at least has been most kind; Come, let me lead you where a drink you'll find.

[_They enter dug-out and are seen relieving their thirst_.

_Chorus_. Beyond the distant bower, Where skirted men abide And in an uncouth language Their skirted children chide; Beyond the land of sunshine, Where never skies are blue, There lives a silent people Who know a thing or two. All is not gold that glitters, And _sirops_ are rather sad; All is not Bass that's "bitters," And Gallic beer is bad; But out of the misty regions Where loom the mountains tall There comes the drink of princes-- Whisky, the best of all.

_Staff O_. This is my seventh drink, and yet, alas! The Colonel comes not.

_Captain_. Fill another glass.

_Staff O_. I will [_he does_]. The bottle's finished, I'm afraid.

_Captain_. It does not matter. I drink lemonade.

_L. of C._ A doom descends upon this house, I fear; That was the only bottle left us here.

_Enter_ Herald.

_Herald_. The Colonel comes. Let no ill-omened word Escape the barrier of your teeth. I heard Men say his temper's in an awful state; Therefore beware lest some untoward fate Befall you; and--I do not think I'll wait.

_Enter_ Colonel.

_He sees empty whisky-bottle, looks at Staff Officer, and--_

[_Here the fragment leaves off._

* * * * *

"Turnouts. Odd colour miniature pony, 36in. high, used to children, coming 5 years, and Swiss governess and brown harness; can be seen any time, a miniature lot; £25."--_The Bazaar, Exchange and Mart_.

It may be right to turn out aliens, but is not this rather hard on the miniature Swiss Governess?

* * * * *

From an auctioneer's advertisement: "Grandfather Clocks, and other Arms and Armour."--_Manchester Guardian_.

In these days even our oldest clocks are expected to strike for their country.

* * * * *

"Herr Harden says:--

"'The aim of our enemies is-- Democracy; The right of nations to self-government; An honest, and not merely a specious, diminution of arguments.'" --_Provincial Paper_.

So far as this last aim is concerned the German Government appears to agree with the Allies, for it has just suppressed Herr HARDEN's journal.

* * * * *

DAVID.

The War brought about no more awful clash of personalities than when it threw David and myself into the same dug-out. Myself, I am the normal man--the man who wishes he were dead when he is called in the morning and who swears at his servant (1) for calling him; (2) for not calling him. My batman has learnt, after three years of war, to subdue feet which were intended by nature to be thunderous. His method of calling me is the result of careful training. If I am to wake at 7 A.M. he flings himself flat on his face outside my dug-out at 6 A.M. and wriggles snake-like towards my boots. He extracts these painlessly from under last night's salvage dump of tin-hats, gas-masks and deflated underclothes, noses out my jacket, detects my Sam Browne, and in awful silence bears these to the outer air, where he emits, like a whale, the breath which he has been holding for the last ten minutes. And meanwhile I sleep.

At 6.55 A.M. he brings back boots, belt and jacket. This time he breathes. He walks softly, but he walks. He places the boots down firmly. He begins to make little noises. He purrs and coughs and scratches his chin, and very gradually the air of the dug-out begins to vibrate with life. It is like _Peer Gynt_--the "Morning" thing on the gramophone, you know; he clinks a toothbrush against a mug, he pours out water. It is all gradual, _crescendo_; and meanwhile I am awakening. At 7 A.M., not being a perfect artist, he generally has to drop something; but by that time I am only pretending to be asleep, and I growl at him, ask him why he didn't call me an hour ago, and then fall asleep again. I get up at eight o'clock and dress in silence. If my batman speaks to me I cut myself, throw the razor at him, and completely break down. In short, as I say, I am the normal man.

With David it is otherwise. David is a big strong man. He blew into my dug-out late one night and occupied the other bed--an affair of rude beams and hard wire-netting. He spread himself there in sleep, and silence fell. At dawn next morning an awful sound hurled me out of dreams towards my revolver. I clutched it in sweating terror, and stared round the dug-out with my heart going like a machine-gun. It was not, however, a Hun counter-attack. It was David calling for his servant. As the first ray of the sun lights the Eastern sky David calls for his servant. His servant is a North-countryman. Sleeping far off in some noxious haunt, he hears David's voice and instantly begins to speak. His voice comes swelling towards us, talking of boots and tunics. As he reaches the dug-out door he becomes deafening. He and David have a shouting match. He kicks over a petrol-tin full of water, smashes my shaving mirror, and sits on my feet while picking up the bits.

Meanwhile David is standing on his bed and jodelling, while his batman shrieks to him that his wife said in her last letter to him that if he doesn't get a leaf soon the home'll be bruk up. Then David starts slapping soap on to his face like a bill-sticker with a paste-brush. His servant drops a field boot on to my stomach, trips over an empty biscuit-tin and is heard grooming a boot without.

David now strops his razor. It is one of those self-binding safety razors which is all covered with cog-wheels and steam-gauges and levers and valves. You feed the strop into it like paper into a printing-press, and it eats up the leather as low people eat spaghetti, making all the time a noise like a mowing-machine. David loves that. He whistles gay tunes while it happens. He whistles while he shaves. He cannot whistle while brushing his teeth, but he brushes his teeth as a man might wash down a cab in a large yard with plenty of room.

The moment it is over he whistles again. Then he does deep breathing at the door of the dug-out. (Aeroplanes passing overhead have had narrow escapes from being dragged into the dug-out by sheer power of suction, when David deep-breathes.) Then he does muscle exercises. He crooks his finger and from behind you see a muscle like a mushroom get up suddenly in the small of his back, run up his spine and hit him under the left ear.

Meanwhile he is whistling, and his batman is making sparks fly out of the buttons, which he cleans with glass-paper and gun-cotton just outside the door.

At eight, when I get carefully out of bed, David is beginning to don his shirt. At nine we move together towards breakfast.

I am training David to say "Rah! Rah!" against the day when he and General ROOSEVELT meet in a communication trench. I am sure they will take to each other at once.

* * * * *

* * * * *

SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE.

["The plain truth is that there are very few jobs that could not be done by women as well as they are being done by men."--_Daily Paper_.]

Chloe, in the placid days Ere the war-clouds gathered, I was prodigal in praise Of your charm and winning ways; You became a cult, a craze (Heavens, how I blathered!); With an ardour undismayed and treacly I proposed (without success) bi-weekly.

Now, my dear, it's up to you To become the hero; Show us how a man should woo When he wills to win, and do Teach us how to bill and coo With our hopes at zero. Chloe, for a change (it may amuse you), _You_ propose to me--_and I'll refuse you_.

* * * * *

From an auction catalogue:--

"PRINCESS, Brown Mare, 7 years, 15-3, has been ridden by a nervous person, good manners, trained to the High School, Hant-le-Cole."

_Haute Êcole_ manners are usually of the best and we are glad that Hant-le-Cole, which we have been unable to find on the map, provides no exception.

* * * * * [Illustration: A MISFIT.

_Recruit_. "IT'S NO USE, GUV'NOR. I 'ATES AN' DETESTS 'ORSES, AN' THEY FAIR LOATHES ME. IT'S A HENGINE-DRIVER I AM--NOT AN 'ORSE-DRIVER."]

* * * * *

THE INVESTITURE.

Be silent, guns! for Bernard is invested, And wheresoe'er the slaves of strife are found Let your grim offices be now arrested, Nor the hot rifle shoot another round, Nor the pale flarelights toss, But for a space all devilry be barred, While Mars hangs motionless in pleased regard And the hushed lines look West to Palace Yard, Where on his breast our KING has pinned the Cross.

Oft in the Mess have we rehearsed that moment, In old French farms have staged the Royal Square, Or in cool caves by Germans made at Beaumont, Though there indeed we had no space to spare, So lifelike was it all, And when KING GEORGE (the Padre's hard to beat In that great _rôle_), surrounded by his suite, Pinned on the cover of the potted meat, The very Hippodrome had seemed too small.

Or we would act the homing of our Hector, Flushed up with pride beneath the ancestral fir, The cheering rustics and the sweet old Rector Welcoming back "our brave parishioner;" And since the lad was shy We made him get some simple phrases pat To thank them for the Presentation Bat, While Maud stood near (the Adjutant did that), So overcome that she could only sigh.

Ah! Bernard, say our pageants were not wasted, Not vain the Adjutant's laborious blush! Was it to Maud this glowing morn you hasted With yonder bauble in its bed of plush-- Or was it that Miss Blake? Say not you faced, with ill-concealed dismay, Your thronging townsmen and had nought to say, Or from your KING stepped tremblingly away With someone else's Order by mistake!

Surely you shamed us not! for all that splendour Can scarce have been more moving to the heart Than our glad rites, the Princess not so tender As was myself, who always took that part; I cannot think the KING, Nor gorgeous Lords, nor Officers of State, Nor seedy people peering through the gate, Felt half so proud or so affectionate As those far friends when _we_ arranged the thing.

A.P.H.

* * * * *

DISCONCERTING NEWS FOR THE KAISER.

Woman to Vicar: "Please Sir will you write to our George in France? 'is number is a 'undred and eleven million four thousand and six."

* * * * *

"The inmates of buses have changed, too. All classes travel side by side, the perspiring flower girl, with her heavy basket of roses, the charwoman clutching her morning purchase of fish, the daintily dressed lady going out to dinner, &c."--_The Daily Chronicle_.

A very early dinner, apparently; perhaps with the charwoman.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, July 30th._--The _obiter dicta_ dropped by Mr. BONAR LAW in the course of debate are gradually furnishing the House with an almost complete autobiography. To-day it learned that while, unlike Mr. BALFOUR, he reads a great many newspapers he does not include among them a certain financial organ which makes a speciality of spy-hunting in high places.

When the National Insurance Scheme was set on foot there were great complaints because some Friendly Societies were not allowed to share in its administration. Possibly the officials thought them a little too friendly in their ways. One of them, we learned to-day, employed an auditor who signed the return with a mark, like _Bill Stumps_; while another auditor had a habit of signing it in blank and leaving the secretary to fill in the figures.

Mr. ASQUITH used to allow his colleagues so much freedom of action that his Administration was nick-named "the Go-as-you-please Government"; and eventually it went as he did not please. But I cannot recall under his gentle rule anything quite so free-and-easy as Mr. HENDERSON'S visit to Paris. That a member of the War Cabinet should attend a Conference of French and Russian Socialists at all is in itself a sufficiently remarkable departure from Ministerial etiquette, but that he should be accompanied by Mr. RAMSAY MACDONALD, whose peculiar views upon the questions of war and peace have so recently been repudiated by the Government and the House of Commons, makes it still more extraordinary. In the circumstances it was almost surprising to learn that the complaisance of the Government did not extend to furnishing Mr. MACDONALD with a war-ship for his journey.

What Mr. BALFOUR, who is responsible for the foreign policy of this country, thinks about it all one can only surmise, for he said nothing directly on the subject in his great speech to-night--a speech which earned him the unique tribute of a compliment from Mr. PRINGLE. But the FOREIGN SECRETARY'S warning to the House not to try to anticipate the work of the Peace Congress may well have been inspired by apprehensions as to what the amateur diplomatists were saying at that moment in Paris.

_Tuesday, July 31st._--An attempt to obtain further light on the HENDERSON-MACDONALD excursion met with little success. Mr. BONAR LAW professed to see nothing unusual in Mr. HENDERSON'S taking part in a Labour Conference, and declared, on the somewhat slender ground that only the Allies were represented, that it was not of an international character. Mr. HOGGE essayed to move the adjournment, but had omitted to have his motion ready. The result of his hurried effort to draft one was not satisfactory, for the SPEAKER ruled that it constituted an attack on Mr. HENDERSON and ought not in fairness to be moved until the right hon. gentleman was back in his place. So the Government escaped--for the moment.

Wearing a jacket suit of Navy blue, and escorted by Lord EDMUND TALBOT and Mr. RAWLINSON, the new FIRST LORD OF THE ADMIRALTY walked up the floor to take the Oath. Members noted with satisfaction the buoyancy of his step and the firmness of his chin. If looks go for anything the Navy in his hands will not relax the bull-dog grip upon the enemy that it has maintained these three years.

Asked whether the Government proposed to institute a prosecution in regard to the disturbance of the peace (with alleged profane language) that recently occurred within the precincts of the Palace of Westminster, Sir GEORGE CAVE gravely recited the words of the statute providing that an offender in such circumstances was liable to have his right hand stricken off. All eyes instinctively turned to see how Mr. PEMBERTON-BILLING was taking it; but any anxiety that he may have felt was relieved when the HOME SECRETARY added that the statute in question was repealed in 1828.

A question put by Sir HENRY CRAIK about a C1 recruit included the statement that he was "suffering from Addison's disease"; and Mr. HOGGE voiced the general curiosity when he asked, obviously out of solicitude for the late Minister of Munitions, "What is ADDISON'S disease?" It is believed that the reply, if one had been given, would have been "Over-dilution."

Good progress was made with the Corn Production Bill, and on the vexed question as to how far allowances should be reckoned as part of the minimum wage an amendment was inserted enabling the Wages Boards to secure for the labourer a little more in cash and less in kind.

In the Lords a satisfactory account of the recent negotiations between British and German Commissioners at the Hague was given by Lord NEWTON. Incidentally he disposed of the suggestion that there had been anything in the way of fraternization. Both sides had held strictly to the business in hand, which was the exchange of prisoners, not of compliments.

_Wednesday, August 1st._--The Peers were to have had another field-day, for Lord SELBORNE had put down a motion calling attention to the alleged sale of honours. But, to the relief of certain of the recently ennobled, who could not be sure what the Unnatural History of SELBORNE might contain, the discussion was postponed.

Three hours' talk over Mr. HENDERSON'S dual personality left the Commons still vague as to how a Cabinet Minister becomes a Labour delegate at will. Perhaps the Channel passage may have had something to do with it.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE PICTURE POSTCARDS.

A little family party, with an acquaintance or two added, sat in deck chairs (at twopence each) at the head of the pier. Their complexions proved that there had been sun at Brightbourne in some strength. Their noses were already peeling a little, and the ladies had bright scarlet patches in the V of their blouses. To supply any defects in the entertainment provided by the ocean itself they had brought paper-covered novels, the two most popular illustrated dailies and chocolate. The boy and girl shared _Roaring Chips_ or some such comic weekly. The father and his gentleman-friend smoked their pipes. All were placid and contented, extending their limbs to receive every benediction that sun and sea air could confer.

A little desultory conversation having occurred--"There's a lady at our boarding-house," said one of the acquaintances, "who reads your hand wonderfully," a languid argument following on palmistry, in which one of the gentlemen disbelieved, but the other had had extraordinary experiences of the accuracy of the science--the mother of the boy and girl suddenly remembered that not yet had postcards been sent to Auntie and Uncle, Gus and Beatty, Mr. Brown and Mrs. Venning.

"We promised, you know," she said guiltily.

"Better late than never," said the father's friend jocularly.

"That's right," said the father.

"Come along," said the gentleman-friend to the boy and girl, "we'll go and choose the cards. There's a stall close by," and off they started.

"Don't let them see everything," the prudent mother called out, having some acquaintance with the physical trend of the moment in postcard humour, which has lost nothing in the general moral enfranchisement brought about by the War, one of the most notable achievements of which is the death and burial of _Mrs. Grundy_.

"Go on!" said the boy, with all the laughing scorn of youth. "We've seen them all already."

"You can't keep kids from seeing things nowadays," said the father sententiously. "Bring them up well and leave the rest to chance, is what I say."

"Very wise of you," remarked one of the lady-friends. "Besides, aren't all things pure to the pure?"

Having probably a very distinct idea as to the purity of many of the postcards which provide Brightbourne with its mirth, the father made no reply, but turned his attention to the deep-water bathers as they dived and swam and climbed on the raft and tumbled off it....

"Well, let's see what you've got," said the mother as the foraging party returned.

"We've got some beauties," said the daughter--"real screams, haven't we, Mr. Gates?"

"Yes, I think we selected the pick of the bunch," said Mr. Gates complacently, speaking as a man of the world who knows a good thing when he sees it.

"My husband's a rare one for fun," said his wife. "A regular connoozer."

"There's a pretty girl at the postcard place," said the boy. "Mr. Gates didn't half get off with her, did you?"

Mr. Gates laughed the laugh of triumph.

"She's not bad-looking," he said, "but not quite my sort. Still--" He stroked his moustache.

"Now, Fred," said Mrs. Gates archly, "that'll do; let's see the cards."

"This one," said the girl, "is for Gus. He's been called up, you know, so we got him a military one. You see that girl the soldier's squeezing? She's rather like his young lady, you know, and it says, 'Come down to Brightbourne and learn how to carry on.' Gus'll show it to her."

The mother agreed that it was well chosen.

"Where's Beatty's?" she asked.