We are not quite sure whether our spirited contemporary refers to justice or ju-jitsu; but, either way, it means to give the Huns a knock-out.

* * * * *

    “For British and Oversea soldiers and sailors who visit Paris a
    club is to be opened at the Hotel Moderne, Place de la Republique.

“The British Ambassador, Sir Douglas Haig, Sir John Jellicoe, and Sir William Robertson have become patrons of the club, which will provide them with comfortable quarters and meals at reasonable prices, supply guides, and generally fulfil a useful purpose.”

    Evening Standard.

But surely the British Ambassador has already fairly comfortable quarters in the Rue Faubourg St. Honore.

* * * * *

SMALL CRAFT.

When Drake sailed out from Devon to break King PHILIP’S pride, He had great ships at his bidding and little ones beside; Revenge was there, and Lion, and others known to fame, And likewise he had small craft, which hadn’t any name.

  Small craft—­small craft, to harry and to flout ’em! 
  Small craft—­small craft, you cannot do without ’em! 
  Their deeds are unrecorded, their names are never seen,
  But we know that there were small craft, because there must have been.

  When NELSON was blockading for three long years and more,
  With many a bluff first-rater and oaken seventy-four,
  To share the fun and fighting, the good chance and the bad,
  Oh, he had also small craft, because he must have had.

  Upon the skirts of battle, from Sluys to Trafalgar,
  We know that there were small craft, because there always are;
  Yacht, sweeper, sloop and drifter, to-day as yesterday,
  The big ships fight the battles, but the small craft clear the way.

  They scout before the squadrons when mighty fleets engage;
  They glean War’s dreadful harvest when the fight has ceased to rage;
  Too great they count no hazard, no task beyond their power,
  And merchantmen bless small craft a hundred times an hour.

  In Admirals’ despatches their names are seldom heard;
  They justify their being by more than written word;
  In battle, toil and tempest and dangers manifold
  The doughty deeds of small craft will never all be told.

  Scant ease and scantier leisure—­they take no heed of these,
  For men lie hard in small craft when storm is on the seas;
  A long watch and a weary, from dawn to set of sun—­
  The men who serve in small craft, their work is never done.

  And if, as chance may have it, some bitter day they lie
  Out-classed, out-gunned, out-numbered, with nought to do but die,
  When the last gun’s out of action, good-bye to ship and crew,
  But men die hard in small craft, as they will always do.

  Oh, death comes once to each man, and the game it pays for all,
  And duty is but duty in great ship and in small,
  And it will not vex their slumbers or make less sweet their rest,
  Though there’s never a big black headline for small craft going west.