But war’s demands, if you desire to tread the simple road,
  Are somewhat hard to reconcile with the Decalogue of Mode;
  So I gave away my topper to the man who winds our clocks,
  With a strangely mixed assortment of collars, ties and socks.

  And if I haven’t parted from my dear old silk-faced friend
  It isn’t out of sentiment—­all that is at an end—­
  It’s simply that the highest bid, in cash paid promptly down,
  I’ve had from any son of Shem is only half-a-crown.

* * * * *

    “The plots cultivated by the men who have learned in the best
    school of all—­experience—­stand out clearly among the others. 
    There is no overcrowing on their land.”—­Evening News.

The truly great are always modest.

* * * * *

    “Wanted, September and October, a comfortably Furnished
    House; five bedrooms, in adjoining counties.”—­East
    Anglian Daily Times.

It sounds a little detached.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  The counterblast.

Kaiser.  “Had A glorious time on the Eastern front.”

Hindenburg.  “A little Louder, all-loudest. I can’t hear you for these
cursed British guns in the West.”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “What do you mean by throwing Stones at those Boys?”

“It’s ORL right, sir.  We’re LEARNIN’ ’em to take cover for air raids.”]

* * * * *

The Mud larks.

Out here the telephone exists largely as a vehicle for the jeux d’esprit of the Brass Lids.  It is a one-way affair, working only from the inside out, for if you have a trifle of repartee to impart to the Brazen Ones the apparatus is either indefinitely engaged, or Na poo (as the French say).  If you are one of these bulldog lads and are determined to make the thing talk from the outside in, you had better migrate chez Signals, taking your bed, blankets, beer, tobacco and the unexpired portion of next week’s ration, and camp at the telephone orderly’s elbow.  After a day or two it will percolate through to the varlet’s intelligence that you are a desperate dog in urgent need of something, and he will bestir himself, and mayhap in a further two or three days’ time he will wind a crank, pull some strings, and announce that you are “on,” and you will find yourself in animated conversation with an inspector of cemeteries, a jam expert at the Base, or the Dalai Lama.  If you want to give back-chat to the Staff you had best take it there by hand.