We slept.  The seasons went their round.  We did not hear the rover
    Winds in our coverlets of grass, the plough-shares tear the mould;
  We did not feel the bridal earth thrill to her April lover
  Nor hear the song of bees among the poppies and the clover;
    Snow-fall or sun to us were one and time went by untold.

  We woke.  The soil about us shook to the long boom of thunder—­
    War loose and making music on his crashing brazen gongs—­
  The sharp hoof-beat, the thresh of feet stirred our old bones down under;
  Wheels upon wheels ground overhead; then with a glow of wonder
    We heard the chant of Englishmen singing their marching songs.

  Blood of our blood!  We heard them swing a-down the teeming highways,
    As we swung once.  We heard them shout; we heard the jests they cast. 
  And we dead men remembered then blue Junes in Devon by-ways,
  Star-dusted skies and women’s eyes, women with sweet and shy ways. 
    These were their race!  We strove to rise, but the strong clay held us fast.

  Year in, year out, along the roads the ceaseless wagons clattered;
    Listened we for an English voice ever, ever in vain;
  Far in the west, year out, year in, terrible thunders battered,
  Drumming the doom of whom—­of whom?  Hope in our hearts lay shattered.... 
    Then we heard the lilt of Highland pipes and English songs again.

  On, ever on, we heard them press; their jaunty bugles blended
    Proudly and clear that we might hear, we dead men of old wars,
  How the red agony was passed and the long vigil ended. 
  Now may we sleep in peace again lapped in a vision splendid
    Of England’s banners marching onwards, upwards to the stars.

PATLANDER.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  THE MILITARY MUZZLE.

FRITZ.  “AFTER ALL, IT’S NOT MUCH GOOD BARKING WHEN THEY’VE STOPPED MY
BITE.”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  OUR SENSITIVE YOUTH.

Cadet. “’SCUSE ME, SIR—­ARE YOU A DOCTOR?  THERE’S A BOY FAINTED.”

Doctor.  “AH—­FATIGUE, I SUPPOSE?”

Cadet.  “No, SIR.  THE SERGEANT SPLIT AN INFINITIVE.”]

* * * * *

BRAINS AND BALDNESS.

BY OUR MEDICAL EXPERT.

(With acknowledgments to “The Times").

Baldness among men is undoubtedly on the increase, and various reasons have been assigned for its appearance in an exacerbated form.  In particular the stress and strain of the War have been mooted, and the argument is reinforced by such words as Chauvinism, which, Mr. LLOYD GEORGE is probably not aware, is derived from chauve.  War is a solvent of equanimity; in the cant but expressive phrase it becomes harder to keep one’s hair on.  Again, inter arma silent Musae.  Fewer people have been playing the pianoforte, an exercise which has always exerted a stimulating effect on the follicles.  Our political correspondent at Paris writes that M. PADEREWSKI’S once luxuriant chevelure has suffered sadly since he has taken to politics, but that after playing for a couple of hours to Mr. BALFOUR a distinct improvement was noticeable.