As the centuries receded came a parting of the ways
    Till in time the separation went so far
  That a family was founded who were traders all their days,
    And another who were always men-of-war;
  But whene’er they dipped their colours, one in faith, they understood—­
    And the sea, who taught them both, could tell you why—­
  That the custom never altered, so the greeting still held good,
    “God speed you, we be sisters, thou and I.”

  Then in days of common sacrifice and peril was it strange
    That they ratified the union of the past? 
  While their Masters, unsuspecting, greatly marvelled at the change,
    But they prayed with all their souls that it would last;
  And the ships, who know the secret, go rejoicing on their way,
    For whatever be the ensign that they fly,
  Such as keep the seas with honour are united when they pray,
    “God speed you, we be sisters, thou and I.”

[Illustration: 

“WAR PICTURES”

THE MOTHER:  “Of course, I don’t understand them, dear; but they give me a dreadful feeling.  I can’t bear to look at them.  Is it really like that at the Front?”

THE WARRIOR (who has seen terrible things in battle):  “Thank heaven, no, mother.”]

England deplores the death of Lord Rhondda, who achieved success in the most irksome and invidious of offices.  He undertook the duties of Food Controller in broken health, never spared himself, and died in harness.  It is to be hoped that he realised what was the truth—­that he had won not only the confidence but the gratitude of the public.

Spain has rendered herself unpleasantly conspicuous by developing and exporting a new form of influenza, and a Spanish astrologer predicts the end of the world in a few months’ time.  But we are not going to allow those petty distractions to take our minds off the War.  Here we may note that Baron Burian’s recent message indicates that but for the War everything would be all right in Austria.  Our artists are certainly determined not to let us forget it.  But the most valuable pictures do not find their way into galleries, though they do not lack appreciative spectators.

[Illustration: 

CAMOUFLAGE OFFICER:  “That’s very clever.  Who did it?”

SERGEANT.  “Oh, that’s by Perkins, sir—­quite an expert.  Used to paint sparrows before the war and sell ’em for canaries.”]

No record of the month would be complete without notice of the unique way in which the Fourth of July has been celebrated by John Bull and Uncle Sam in France.  Truly such a meeting as this does make amends.

August, 1918.