Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/335

Charles. "Mummy, I love you more than Lois does. I love you 100 and 1,000 and 100,000."

Lois. "I love her billions―I love her the whole world."

Charles (in a disgusted tone.) "I don't love her the whole world. I don't love her the Germany part."

Weeks and weeks ago a German battery got the range of a slab of railway from which our armoured train had been grieving them; and but for the fact that the train had moved off about half-an-hour earlier it might quite easily have been hit. The German battery was so pleased at this victory that they now make a hobby of this bit of the line, dusting it up daily from 5 to 7.30 P.M.; and I should think it would be very dangerous for anyone who was actually present at that hour. But, as nobody ever is, our casualties at this point are negligible. In the meantime the noise is horrid; and our billet has already thought out several polite notes to the battery commander, pointing out that we like to make up lost sleep between tea and dinner. The only difficulty is in the matter of delivery.

In the There was a time when the trenches were as restful as billets; such halcyon days are gone. An offensive attitude is demanded. We must, it is felt, prove to the Bosch our activity, our confidence in ourselves, our contempt of him, and, in short, our höchste Gefechtbereitschaft (all rights still reserved). To achieve this without actually attacking takes a bit of doing. A specimen of demonstrative operations ordered during twenty-four hours may, without giving too much away, be briefly sketched:―

4 A.M. Alternate platoons will sing God save the King, Tipperary and The Rosary until 4.15, and alternate sections will fire one round rapid. Should the Bosch disregard this―

6 A.M. Swedish drill will take place on the parapet. This having failed to draw fire or other sign of hostile attention―

10 A.M. The regimental mouth-organist section will play the Wacht am Rhein flatly, timelessly, tunelessly, but still recognizably. When both sides have recovered―

5 P.M. Two companties will fire salutes at the setting sun, while the remaining two will play association football in front of the barbed wire.

By some such policy of frightfulness we daunt the Bosch from day to day, and we have small doubt that on that afternoon when we go "over the top" to take tea with him he will meet us halfway with raised arms and a happy smile of relief at the ending of his suspense.

Underneath a picture representing a soldier jumping from the ground on to a trotting horse:―

"A well-known French jockey, now galloper to a French General, setting off in haste with an important message."―Daily Mail.

"Convalescent British and French soldiers amused at the antics of Daix, the well-known French jockey, who entertained them with an exhibition of trick-riding."―Daily Graphic.

"The man who stole the tyres of Mr. Eggar's brougham at the Pegu Club (or anybody else) can have the whole Turn-out (brougham, horse, harness, coachman and syce) for Rs. 750, because the owner is fed up about it."

Rangoon Times.

An old brougham and a clean sweep.