I don’t agree with grousing, and I trust I shall escape any
  Desire to pick a quarrel with an egg at fivepence ha’penny;
  I’m quite prepared to recognise that no persuasive charm’ll aid
  In getting from a grocer either cheese or jam or marmalade;
  I brave the brackish bacon and refrain from ever uttering
  Complaints about the margarine that on my bread I’m buttering;
  I’m not unduly bored with CHARLIE CHAPLIN on the cinema
  And view serenely miners agitating for their minima;
  I sit with resignation in a study stark and shivery,
  Desiderating coal with little hope of its delivery;
  I realise that getting into tram or tube’s improbable
  And pardon profiteers for robbing ev’ryone that’s robable;
  I don’t mind cleaning doorsteps in the view of all ignoble eyes
  (Now Mary, my domestic, has decided to demobilise);
  Though life is like a poker that you’ve handled at the vivid end
  And all my wretched companies have ceased to pay a dividend—­
  All these and other worries, though they’re very near the limit, I
  Maintain that I can face with philosophic equanimity;
  But, when I by my family and fond and fussy friends am asked
  To trot about in public with my features influenza-masked,
  My sense of humour wrings from me (or possibly a lack of it)
  The protest of the camel at the straw that breaks the back of it.

* * * * *

RECONSTRUCTION IN LONDON.

Extract from a recent novel:—­

    “She sat at her desk and, without any palpable hesitation,
    wrote to Stanley asking him to meet her within an hour by
    the bridge over the Serpentine in St. James’s Park.”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  THE MAKING OF HISTORY.

1915.  THE PURCHASE OF THE SOUVENIR.

1920.  “THAT’S A SOUVENIR OF MY JOB AT HAVRE—­

1925. —­OF MY SERVICE IN FRANCE—­

1930. —­OF MY ACTIVE SERVICE—­

1935. —­OF MY FIGHTING DAYS

1940.  GOT THAT IN THE BIG PUSH

1945. —­FIERCE FIGHTING IT WAS—­

1950. —­DESPERATE FIGHTING.

1955. —­HACKED MY WAY THROUGH—­

1960. —­RIGHT UP TO THEIR GENERAL—­

1965. —­CUT HIS HEAD OFF—­

1970. —­THAT WAS ON IT!”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Infatuated Little Boy.  “I WISH YOU CAME TO OUR CHURCH.  WHY DON’T YOU?”

Little Girl.  “MOTHER SAYS IT’S TOO HIGH.”

I.L.B.  “IS THAT ALL?  WELL, I’LL SPEAK TO DADDY, AND I’M SURE HE’LL FIX THAT UP ALL RIGHT.”]

* * * * *

A GENTLE HINT.

The Corps Commander paced thoughtfully down the street of a half-ruined village in France and his thoughts were pleasant; for he alone amongst all other Corps Commanders was the owner of a cow.  There was no other cow in the whole army nearer than G.H.Q., and he pictured the envy of brother Generals when he invited them to come in and have a glass of milk.