* * * * *

“Arrangements are being made in all the stations throughout India for the celebration of the signing of the armistice.  In Simla the Commander-in-Chief will be present at a parade on the Ridge at 11.45 a.m., civilians in leaves dress assembling at 11.30.”—­Times of India.

It is pleasant to note that the establishment of the armistice brought about an immediate return, in Simla at least, to the conditions of Paradise.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  RUINS OF EMPIRE.

SHADE OF BISMARCK.  “I BUILT WITH BLOOD AND IRON, AND ONLY BLOOD
REMAINS.”]

* * * * *

THE NECROMANCERS.

The other day, while I was out for a ride, I happened to run up against my two Chinese acquaintances, Ah Sin and Dam Li, and I stopped to have a chat with them.  After the usual greetings Dam Li remarked:—­

“Hon’lable officer lookee too muchee sad.”

“Allee same like littlee dog when ’nother big dog stealum bone,” supplemented Ah Sin.

“I wasn’t aware of it,” I said shortly, a little hurt at the comparison.

“P’haps hon’lable officer losee lations allee same little dog,” suggested Dam Li.

“Well,” I admitted, “I have lost something—­at least the Mess has.  Only it isn’t rations; it’s a milk-jug.”

This, our only article of plate, was a battered piece of treasure-trove salved from the ruins of a derelict village.

Dam Li was all sympathy.

“You talkee China boy.  Him findum one time plenty quick,” he announced confidently.

“All right,” I said; “only you won’t get anything just for trying, mind.  You’ll have to succeed.”

“China boy no wantchee nothing,” replied Dam Li reproachfully.

“Him only wantchee officer smile allee same like dog waggee tail when lations come back,” added Ah Sin by way of embroidery.

“Thank you,” I said gravely.  “And when do you propose to start replacing my smile?”

Apparently there was no time like the present, so back we went to the Mess and they set to work.  Their opening move was somewhat startling, even to me who knew them of old.

“Giveum China boy one piecee blead,” commanded Dam Li.

“What for?” I demurred.

“China Boy eatum blead and talkee plenty good player [prayer],” said Ah Sin.  “Then thief-man too muchee flighten’ an’ giveum back jug plenty dam quick.”

“But why should he be afraid?” I asked.

Ah Sin was very patient with me.

“Players plenty stlong language talkee,” he said.  “S’pose thief-man not giveum back jug, belly get plenty too muchee fat ...”

“An’ go bang allee same air-dlagon bomb,” broke in Dam Li, rubbing his hands together at the prospect.

“Very well, you may have your loaf,” said I, capitulating; and then rashly I added, “Is there anything else you’d like?”