[Illustration: 

THE CAPTAIN:  “Your brother is doing splendidly in the Battalion.  Before long he’ll be our best man.”

THE SISTER:  “Oh, Reginald!  Really, this is so very sudden.”]

The education of those on the Home Front is also proceeding.  There are some maids who announce the approach of Zeppelins as if they were ordinary visitors.  There are others who politely decline to exchange a seat at an attic window for the security of the basement.

[Illustration: 

MISTRESS (coming to maid’s room as the Zeppelins approach):  “Jane!  Jane! 
Won’t you come downstairs with the rest of us?”

LITTLE MAID:  “Oh, thank you, Mum, but I can see beautiful from here, Mum.”]

According to the German papers Prince Frederick Leopold of Prussia has been severely reprimanded by the Kaiser for permitting his wild swine to escape from their enclosure and damage neighbouring property.  It would be interesting to know if Prince Leopold excused himself on the ground that he had merely followed the All Highest’s distinguished example.  When Princes are rebuked common editors cannot hope to escape censure.  The editor of the Vorwaerts has again been arrested, the reason given being that the newspaper does not truthfully represent Germany’s position in the War.  If the title of the organ is any indication of its contents the charge would appear to be more than justified.

September, 1916.

“IAN HAY” wrote a fine book on “The First Hundred Thousand”—­the first batch of Kitchener’s Army.  Another book, equally glorious, remains to be written about another Hundred Thousand—­the Sweepers of the Sea.  And with them are to be reckoned the heroes of the little ships of whom we hear naught save the laconic record in a daily paper that “the small steamer ------ struck a mine yesterday and sank,” and that all the crew were lost: 

  Who to the deep in ships go down,
   Great marvels do behold,
  But comes the day when some must drown
   In the grey sea and cold. 
  For galleons lost great bells do toll,
   But now we must implore
  God’s ear for sunken Little Ships
   Who are not heard of more.

  When ships of war put out to sea,
   They go with guns and mail,
  That so the chance may equal be
   Should foemen them assail;
  But Little Ships men’s errands run,
   And are not clad for strife;
  God’s mercy, then, on Little Ships
   Who cannot fight for life.

  To warm and cure, to clothe and feed,
   They stoutly put to sea,
  And since that men of them had need
   Made light of jeopardy;
  Each in her hour her fate did meet,
   Nor flinched nor made outcry;
  God’s love be with these Little Ships
   Who could not choose but die.

  To friar and nun, and every one
   Who lives to save and tend,
  Sisters were these whose work is done
   And cometh thus to end;
  Full well they knew what risk they ran
   But still were strong to give;
  God’s grace for all the Little Ships
   Who died that men might live.