* * * * *

[Illustration:  Scientific Uncle.  “DO YOU KNOW, CHILDREN, THAT AT ONE TIME, LONG AGO, WE USED TO HAVE FIVE TOES ON EACH HAND, AND LIVE IN TREES?”

Niece.  “WE WON’T TELL ANYBODY, UNCLE.”]

* * * * *

THE ANNIVERSARY.

  The 23rd.  To-day, my son,
    Two turgid years ago,
  Your father battled with the Hun
    At five A.M. or so;
  This was the day (if I exclude
  A year of painful servitude
  Under the Ministry of Food)
    I struck my final blow.

  Ah, what a night!  The cannon roared;
    There was no food to spare;
  And first it froze and then it poured;
    Were we dismayed?  We were. 
  Three hundred yards we went or more,
    And, when we reached, through seas of gore,
  The village we were fighting for,
    The Germans were not there.

  But miles behind a 9.2
    Blew up a ration dump;
  Far, far and wide the tinned food flew
    From that tremendous crump: 
  And one immense and sharp-toothed tin
  Came whistling down, to my chagrin,
  And caught me smartly on the shin—­
    By Jove, it made me jump.

  A hideous wound.  The blood that flowed! 
    It was a job to dress;
  I hobbled bravely down the road
    And reached a C.C.S.;
  Nor was I so obsessed with gloom
  At leaving thus the field of doom
  As one might easily assume
    From stories in the Press.

  Though other soldiers as they fell—­
    Or so the papers say—­
  Cried, “GEORGE for England!  Give ’em hell!”
    (It was ST. GEORGE’S Day),
  Inspiring as a Saint can be,
  I should not readily agree
  That anyone detected me
    Behaving in that way.

  Such is the tale.  And, year by year,
    I shall no doubt relate
  For your fatigued but filial ear
    The history of this date;
  Yet, though I do not now enhance
  The crude events of that advance,
  There is a wild fantastic chance
    That they will grow more great.

  So be you certain while you may
    Of what in fact occurred,
  And if I have the face to say
    On some far 23rd
  That on this day the war was won,
  That I despatched a single Hun,
  Or even caught a glimpse of one—­
    Don’t you believe a word.

  A.P.H.

* * * * *

    ANOTHER IMPENDING APOLOGY.

“Miss ——­ looked sweetly pretty in an emerald-green satin (very short) skirt, white blouse, and emerald handkerchief tied over her head—­an Irish Colleen, and a bonie one too!”—­Colonial Paper.

* * * * *

    “According to a Vienna message, the Government has
    introduced a Bill dealing with the former reigning Mouse of
    Austria.”—­Provincial Paper.