Mr. SNOWDEN, however, learned from the HOME SECRETARY that the Government, the House and the Country were in full sympathy with the war-policy laid down by the French Government, and that we were prepared to go on fighting until it was achieved.  Here is something for his colleagues to tell the Stockholm Conference, if they can get there.

For some occult reason the word “cheese” always excites Parliamentary merriment.  Mr. GEORGE ROBERTS’S announcement that the Board of Trade had made arrangements by which a quantity of this commodity would be available for public use next week was greeted with the customary laughter.  Upon Army requirements, he added, would depend the quantity to be “released.”  Colonel YATE was perturbed by this Gorgonzolaesque phrase, and anxiously inquired to what species of cheese it referred.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  THE COMFORTER.

Lance-Corporal (in charge of footsore Tommy who has fallen out on the march).  “YOU’VE NOTHING TO GROUSE ABOUT.  YOU’RE GETTIN’ YOUR OWN BACK FROM THE GOVERNMENT.  AIN’T YOU WEARIN’ OUT THEIR BLINKIN’ BOOTS?”]

* * * * *

CAUTIONARY TALES FOR THE ARMY.

III.

(Private Whidden, who ate his Iron Rations and came to an untimely end.)

  Private Tom Whidden had a passion
  For eating of his iron ration—­
  A thing, you know, which isn’t done
  (Except, just now and then, for fun),
  Because there is a rule about it
  And decent people rarely flout it. 
  But Tom was greedy and each day
  He’d put a tin or two away,
  Though duty told him, clear and plain,
  To keep them safe as brewers’ grain,
  For eating as a last resort
  When eatables were running short. 
  His Corporal said, “My lad, don’t do it!”
  His Sergeant groaned, “I’m sure you’ll rue it!”
  But still he never stopped.  At last
  His Captain heard and stood aghast.... 
  Then he said sternly, “Private Whidden,
  Really, you know, this is forbidden. 
  Some day, Sir, if you will devour
  Your ration thus from hour to hour,
  You’ll find yourself in No Man’s Land
  With neither bite nor sup at hand. 
  Yes, when it is your proper fare,
  Your iron ration won’t be there;
  Then in your hour of bitter need
  You will be sorry for your greed.”

  He ceased.  But Private Thomas Whidden,
  Being thus seriously chidden,
  Said simply (with a Devon burr),
  “Law bless us! do ’ee zay zo, Zur?”
  Then with an uncontrolled passion
  He went and ate his iron ration.

  So, since he chose, from day to-day,
  Persistently to disobey,
  As you’d expect, the man is dead,
  Though not the way his Captain said. 
  The fate of starving out of hand,
  Or nearly so, in No Man’s Land—­
  Alas! it never came in question. 
  He died of chronic indigestion.