French Commandant should not dine. There is every reason, I imagine, for railway companies to furnish their dining-cars with those little tables for two which bring it about that a pair of passengers, who have never seen each other before and have not elected to meet on this occasion, find themselves together, for a period, on the terms of the most complete and homely intimacy. Lastly, the attendant had every reason to put the Corporal and the Commandant to dine together, for there was nowhere else to put either of them.

What would have happened if this had taken place ten years ago, and the French Commandant had been an English Major? The situation, of course, simply could not have arisen; it would have been unthinkable. But if it had arisen the train would certainly have stopped for good; probably the world would have come to an end. As it was, what did happen? Let me say at once that both the Corporal and the Commandant behaved with a generosity which was entirely delightful; the Corporal's was pecuniary generosity, the Commandant's generosity of spirit. This was as it should be, and both were true to type.

Quick though the French are at the uptake, it took the good Commandant just a little while to settle down to the odd position. This was not the size and shape and manner of man with whom he was used to take his meals. As an officer one feels one's responsibilities on these public occasions, and I felt I ought to intervene and to do something to rearrange the general position. But at the start I caught the Corporal's eye, and there was in it such a convincing look of "Whatever I may do I mean awfully well," that I just sat still and did nothing.

The awkward pause was over before the soup was finished. Rough good-nature and subtle good sense soon combined to eliminate arbitrary distinctions. The Commandant won the first credit by starting a conversation; it was really the only thing to do. Had the Commandant and I been opposite each other we should probably have dined in polite silence. But the Corporal was one of those red-faced burly people with whom you have, if you are close to them, either to laugh or fight.

The Commandant was not inwardly afraid; he was innately polite. He talked pleasantly to his vis-à-vis. The Corporal, a trifle abashed at first, listened deferentially, but as the good food enlivened him he ceased to be abashed and became cordial. From cordial he became affable, from affable affectionate, and from affectionate he passed to that degree of friendship in which you lean across the dinner-table, tap a man on the shoulder and call him "old pal." Finally, he insisted upon the Commandant cracking with him a bottle of champagne. I give the Commandant full marks for not persisting in his refusal.

A draught or two of champagne has, as you may be aware, the effect of developing to an extreme any friendly feelings you may at the moment happen to possess ...

The train chanced to stop just after dinner was finished, and the Commandant, seizing his opportunity, hurriedly paid his bill and got into another carriage. My vis-à-vis also left the car, though I must confess that I had not stood him so much as a glass of beer. I and the Canadian Corporal were left facing each other, and the position was such that I couldn't avoid his eye. I had no feelings with regard to him, but I simply could not smile at him, since I do not like champagne. So I suppose I must have frowned at him; anyhow, he came along and sat down at my table in order to explain at length that he was not drunk.

He wasn't drunk, and I had never said he was, and I was not in the least interested in his theme, until he got to the point of what his main reason was for not being drunk. This, I admit, interested me deeply. "When we get to Parry," said he, "we shall be met by Military Police, and they will ask to see our papers. And if my papers weren't in order and if I wasn't in order myself I should be put under arrest and sent back again. And I don't mean to be sent back, and I have all my papers in order and I'm in order myself." And, dash it all, the fellow was right, and when we got to the Gare du Nord there were the Military Police as large as life, and clearly there was no avoiding them.

At first I didn't quite know what to do about it, but a little thought decided me. "There are your M.P.," I said to the Corporal, as we trooped slowly out of the dining-car. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come along with me and interview one of them." Giving him no time to argue, I led him straight to the Police Sergeant and insisted upon this case being dealt with before all others. "I must ask you, Sergeant, to make this man produce his papers. I have reason to doubt whether he is in order."

The Corporal began to expostulate, but the Sergeant adopted the none-of-that-I-know-all-about-your-sort attitude which is so admirable in these officials. The Corporal produced some papers and tendered them indignantly. The Police Sergeant remained impassively unconvinced, but gave me one fleeting look, as if he wondered whether I had put him on to a good thing. "There are papers and papers," said I, as if I too knew all about the business. "Let us see if they are in order." The Sergeant's instinct had already told him that the papers were quite in order, and he was all for cutting the business short and getting out of it as quickly as he could. But I insisted upon the most minute examination and would not give in and admit my mistake until the Sergeant practically ordered us both off the station.

Having given the Sergeant to understand that he was to blame for the Corporal's papers being in order, I allowed myself to be passed on. The Corporal followed me; he wanted an explanation. When we got outside the station I let him catch me up, because I thought he was entitled to one.

"Will you allow me to ask why you did that, Sir?" he said very indignantly but not rudely. "You knew that I had my papers, Sir, and that they were in order."

"Yes," I said. "But I knew that my own weren't."

His cheeks suffused with the most jovial red I have ever seen.

"In the very strictest confidence, Corporal," I said, "I haven't any papers."

I didn't know that a human laugh could be so loud. On the whole I think it was a good thing that we had arrived in Paris after closing time, since otherwise, in spite of my dislike of the stuff, I'm sure that three more bottles of the most expensive brand would have been cracked. I should have had to stand one; he would have positively insisted on standing two.

Yours ever, HENRY.

Skipper of Drifter (who has been fined thirty-five shillings for losing a pair of binoculars). "PROPER JUSTICE I CALLS IT; MY BROTHER-IN-LAW LOSES HIS WHOLE BLINKING DRIFTER AND YOU DON'T FINE 'IM A BLOOMING CENT."

Tommy. "'E'S A WONDER AN' NO MISTAKE. I CAN'T TEACH MY OLD DAWG AT HOME TO DO ANYTHINK."

Pal. "AH, BUT YER SEE, MATEY, YOU 'AVE TO KNOW MORE 'N A DAWG, OR YER CAN'T LEARN 'IM NUTHIN."

A SIGN OF THE TIMES.

"YOUNG LADY Wants post as Housekeeper to working man."—Halifax Evening Courier.

"Planers (large letters) Wanted, for machine tool work; good bonus; war work; permanent job."—Daily Dispatch.

Pessimist!

"WHAT DISABLED SOLDIERS SHOULD KNOW.

"That there is no such word as 'imossible' in his