For instance, once he had to tea
  A private in the A.S.C.,
  And asked to meet him Cathcart-Crewe,
  A Major in the Horse Guards Blue. 
  Too frequently did it occur
  That, when a senior officer
  Was with him, he would up and take
  Salutes from privates.  Why, he’d shake
  Even Sir DOUGLAS by the hand
  And say, “Old chap, you’re doing grand.”

  This sort of thing caused some distress
  Among the members of his mess. 
  He often took the Colonel’s chair;
  He often flourished in the air
  His water-glass (when wine was scanty),
  And shouted, “Cheero, Adjutanty!”
  You see, he simply had no sense
  Of military precedence.

  His regiment went out to France
  To help a general advance. 
  Now in a minute they must hop
  Like billy-o across the top. 
  Amid the din the Colonel said,
  “It will be hellish overhead. 
  Machine-guns will let loose a jet
  Of bullets on the parapet;
  We’ll meet a burst of rifle fire,
  And, as for shells, I don’t desire
  To see in so confined a space
  A thicker lot than we shall face. 
  Now, gentlemen, attend, I pray—­
  When we attack, I lead the way!”

  Now wouldn’t anyone concur,
  Saying at once, “With pleasure, Sir!”
  Nor with undisciplined delight
  Baulk the good Colonel of his right? 
  Not so young Spence.  The moment came,
  And, heedless of the cries of “Shame!”
  He never offered once to wait
  Until the Colonel, more sedate,
  Had scrambled o’er the parapet,
  But got there first—­and promptly met
  A bullet.... Folk who arrogate
  The privileges of the great
  Must take what ills thereto attach
  (The Colonel never got a scratch).

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Distracted Wife.  “OH, ALFRED—­THE POTATO-PATCH!”]

* * * * *

“KAMERAD!”

“Baby Girl, 18 months, will surrender entirely to good home.”—­Daily Paper.

* * * * *

    “The Archdeacon of Stow thought it was a good maxim not to
    argue with the huntsmen while shooting the rabbits, and moved
    the previous question.”—­Morning Post.

If you want a real argument with a huntsman (of the ante-bellum type) you should try shooting a fox.

* * * * *

Consecutive paragraphs from The Continental Daily Mail:—­

“Mr. Arthur J. Balfour, like President Wilson, is an ardent golfer.  He has challenged Mr. Wilson to a match, and the President of the United States immediately took him up.  The match will be played in a few days.

“’Every able-bodied man and woman found golfing at the present time should be taken by the scruff of the neck and made to do some work of national importance,’ said Mr. Waldie at the Edinburgh Parish Council.”

So that’s that.