3.  A Quartermaster-Sergeant put all the contents of the rum-jar into the tea.

4.  A sniper fired at a Hun and reported a miss.

5.  A bombing-party threw bombs into a sap without reporting “shrieks and groans were heard, and it is thought that many casualties were inflicted.”

6.  A Sergeant-Major complimented a new squad of recruits.

7.  Somebody read an Intelligence Summary.

8.  A very high official fired the first shot to open the new rifle-range and failed to hit the bull.

    NOTE—­(a) The Marker was not court-martialled for spreading alarm
    and despondency in His Majesty’s forces; but

    (b) The quality of mercy was fearfully strained.

9.  A bombing-class came back from practice without a single casualty.

10.  A Subaltern got leave on compassionate grounds.  He wanted to be married.

11.  A Corps Commander was punctual at an inspection.  And

12.  It did not rain on the day of the offensive.

Truly an extraordinary day.  Shall we ever live to see it, I wonder?

* * * * *

MORE SEX PROBLEMS

    “For Sale.—­Dark red Shorthorn Bulls, from two years downwards,
    bred to milk for thirty years.”—­Farmer’s Weekly.

    “For Sale by Auction, one Mare Colt.”—­Kent and Sussex Courier.

    “Then again the cockerel is a summer layer.”—­Irish Farming
    World.

* * * * *

    “Sir Godfrey Baring, the sitting Liberal member, is not standing
    again.”—­Evening Paper.

If he’s not going to sit or stand, he’ll have to take it lying down.

* * * * *

  A Venetian boy-scout on the Lido
  Had sighted a hostile torpedo,
    So he cried, “Don’t suppoge
    You can blow up the Doge;
  You must do without him—­as we do.”

* * * * *

“WEST OF ENGLAND.—­To be Sold, a perfect gentleman’s Residence, in faultless condition and all modern improvements, and a pedigree Stock Farm of 150 acres adjoining, with possession.”—­Daily Paper.

We hope the pedigree of the perfect gentleman is included as well as that of the stock farm.

* * * * *

PETHERTON AND THE RAG AUCTION.

A letter I received last Friday gave me one of those welcome excuses to get into closer touch with my neighbour, Petherton, than our daily proximity might seem to connote.  I wrote to him thus:—­