Once she kissed me with a jest,
    Once with a tear—­
  O where’s the heart was in my breast
    And the ring was in my ear?

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Head of Government Department (in his private room in recently-commandeered hotel).  “BOY!  BRING SOME MORE COAL!”]

* * * * *

WAR’S ROMANCES. [Now that fiction is occupying itself so much with military matters, it is necessary to warn the lady novelist—­as it used to be necessary in other days to warn her in relation to sport—­to cultivate accuracy.  There is a constant danger that the popular story will include such passages as follow.]

“Corporal Cuthbert Crewdson,” said the Colonel in a kindly voice, “your work has been very satisfactory—­so much so that I have decided to promote you.  From to-day you will no longer be Corporal, but Lance-Corporal.”  With a grateful smile our hero saluted and retired to draw his lance at the Adjutant’s stores.

* * * * *

“Darling,” cried the handsome young private, “I told the Colonel of our engagement, and he said at once I might bring you to tea at our Mess any Sunday afternoon.”

* * * * *

One night, as Private Jones and the Sergeant-major were strolling arm-in-arm through the High Street...

* * * * *

“Remember,” said the old Major, eyeing his eighteen-year-old subaltern son with a shrewd affectionate glance, “a little well-placed courtesy goes a long way.  For instance, if a Sergeant should call you ‘Sir,’ never forget to say ‘Sir’ to him.”

* * * * *

Osbert, his cane dangling from his left hand and with Mabel at his side, sailed proudly down Oxford Street.  Suddenly a Tommy hove in sight.  At once Osbert passed his stick to his other hand, leaving the left one free.  The next moment the man was saluting, and Osbert, bringing up his left hand in acknowledgment, passed on.

“It is always well to be scrupulously correct in these little details,” he explained.

* * * * *

Mildred, her heart beating rapidly, stood shyly behind the muslin curtain as George, looking very gallant in khaki, strode past the window with his frog hopping along at his side.

* * * * *

Sidney Bellairs, apparently so stern and unbending on parade, was adored by his men.  Often he had been known, when acting as “orderly officer” (as the officer is called who has to keep order), to carry round with him a light camp-stool, which, with his unfailing charm of manner, he would offer to some weary sentry.  “There, my boy, sit down,” he would say, without a trace of condescension.

* * * * *

Lord Debenham succeeded because even in small things he could look ahead.  “Ethelred,” he would say to his batman, “there is to be a field-day to-morrow, so see that my haversack, water-bottle and slacks are put ready for me in the morning.”