My dear James,—­Ere long the military machine will be able to spare one of its cogs—­myself.  Yes, James, soon you will once again see me in my silk hat, cerise fancy vest and brown boots (among other garments).  I think I shall have brass buttons on all my coats for the sheer joy of seeing them without let or hindrance grow green from lack of polish.  I shall once again train my hair in graceful curling strands under (respectively) the south-east and south-west corners of my ears.  If I meet my Brigadier in the street I shall notice him or not just according to my whim of the moment.  But, James, I shall have to work for my living.  There’s the rub.

I must say the Army tries to help one.  Somebody or other has issued a whole schedule of civil occupations to assist me in my choice of a career.  It offers an embarrassment of riches.

Take the “A’s.”  I was momentarily attracted by Air Balloon Maker.  It sounds a joyous job.  Think of the delight of sending forth these delicate nothings inflated and perfect.  My only fear is that I should destroy the fruits of my own labour.  One touch of my rough hands is always inimical to an air-balloon.  And if you know of any more depressing sight than a collapsed air-balloon, all moist and incapable of resurrection, for heaven’s sake keep it to yourself.

Allowance Man (brewing) sounds hopeful.  My only question is:  Does an Allowance Man (brewing) fix his own allowance (brewed)?

Am I slightly knock-kneed or am I not?  Do write me frankly on the subject.  You have seen me divested of trousers.  Because if I am then I don’t think I will try my luck as an Artist’s Model.

Athlete.—­Ha!  I feel my biceps and find it not so soft.  It’s a wearing life, though.  Is there such a thing as an Athlete (indoor)?  You know my speed and agility at Ludo.

I flatter myself I have musical taste, but Back and Belly Maker (piano) I consider vulgar—­almost indecent, in fact.  Such anatomical intimacy with the piano would destroy for me the bewitchment of the Moonlight Sonata.

There is something very alluring about Bank Note Printer.  I see the chance of continuing the Army trick of making a living without working for it.  Surely a Bank Note Printer is allowed his little perquisites.  Why should he print millions of bank notes for other people and none for himself?  I can imagine an ill-used Bank Note Printer very easily becoming a Bolshevist.

Barb Maker (wire) I do not like.  I have too many unpleasant memories of the Somme.  It is a hideous trade and ought to be abolished altogether.

If I am wrong correct me, but isn’t the prime function of a Bargee to swear incessantly?  Not my forte, James.  What you thought you heard that day in 1911, when I missed a six-inch putt, was only “Yam,” which is a Thibetan expression meaning “How dreadfully unfortunate!” I knew a Major once—­but that’s for another article.