Yours ever,
HENRY.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “WELL, SO YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE THE VOTE AT LAST.”

“OH, ONLY WOMEN OVER THIRTY, YOU KNOW.”]

* * * * *

    “General Ludendorff has received the Red Eagle of the First Class.”—­
    Central News.

An appropriate reward for his rapid flight.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Customer.  “LOOK OUT!  YOU’RE CONFOUNDEDLY CLUMSY!”

New Assistant.  “WELL, YOU CAN’T BE PARTICKLER WHAT YOU DO NOWADAYS.  I NEVER WAS A BARBER AFORE, AND I ’ATE AND DESPISE THE JOB—­SEE?”]

* * * * *

COMRADES.

  In every home in England you will find their wistful faces,
    Where, weary of adventure, lying lonely by the fire,
  Untempted by the sunlight and the call of open spaces,
    They are listening, listening, listening for the step of their desire.

  And, watching, we remember all the tried and never failing,
    The good ones and the game ones that have run the years at heel;
  Old Scamp that killed the badger single-handed by the railing,
    And Fan, the champion ratter, with her fifty off the reel.

  The bitches under Ranksboro’ with hackles up for slaughter,
    The otter hounds on Irfon as they part the alder bowers,
  The tufters drawing to their stag above the Horner Water,
    The setters on Ben Lomond when the purple heather flowers.

The collie climbing Cheviot to head his hill sheep stringing,
The Dandie digging to his fox among the Lakeside scars,
The Clumber in the marshes when the evening flight is winging
And the wild geese coming over through the rose light and the stars.

And my heart goes out in pity to each faithful one that’s fretting
Day by day in cot or castle with his dim eyes on the door. 
In his dreams he hunts with sorrow.  And for us there’s no forgetting
That he helped our love of England and he hardened us for war. 
W.H.O.

* * * * *

AUTRE TEMPS—­AUTRES MOEURS.

When MOSES fought with AMALEK in days of long ago,
And slew him for the glory of the Lord,
’Is longest range artill’ry was an arrow and a bow,
And ’is small arms was a barrel-lid and sword;
But to-day ’e would ’ave done ’em in with gas,
Or blowed ’em up with just a mine or so,
Then broken up their ranks by advancing with ’is tanks,
And started ’ome to draw his D.S.O.

  When ST. GEORGE ‘e went a-ridin’ all naked through the lands—­
    You can see ’im on the back of ’arf-a-quid—­
  ’E spiked the fiery dragon with a spear in both ’is ’ands,
    But to-day, if ’e ’d to do what then he did,
  ’E ’d roll up easy in an armoured car,
    ’E ’d loose off a little Lewis gun,
  Then ’e ’d ’oist the scaly dragon upon a G.S. wagon
    And cart ’im ’ome to show the job was done.