of you will have an opportunity of making a complaint in the correct manner.

"In making his complaint the man should advance two paces forward, salute smartly, stand to attention and make his complaint.

"And, by Heavens, if anybody does...!"

Yours ever,

HENRY.

A TRACT FOR GROUSERS.

Ernest and I were seated by the river. It was very pleasant there, and it seemed a small thing to us that we were both still disabled.

"Did you ever say to yourself, when you were out there, that if ever you got out of it alive you'd never grumble at anything again?'" said Ernest.

My reply was in the affirmative.

We were silent for a while, remorse weighing heavily upon us.

"The worst case," said Ernest at length, "was when I got my commission and came home for my kit."

I composed myself to listen, piously determined not to grumble however tedious I might find his recital.

"We'd been near a place called Ypres," he began.

"I seem to have heard the name," I murmured.

"I hadn't been sleeping really well for a week—we'd been in the trenches that time—and before that I had lain somewhat uneasily upon a concrete floor."

"Yes, concrete is hard, isn't it?" I said.

"We came out at three in the morning, and arrived at our billets about seven. I knew this commission was on the tapis—French word meaning carpet—so I hung round not daring to turn in. At eleven o'clock I had orders to push off home to get my kit. You'll guess I didn't want asking twice. I made my way to the railhead at once in case of any hitch, and had to wait some time for a train. It was a goods train when it came, but it did quite well and deposited me outside the port of embarkation about nine o'clock at night. I walked on into the port and found the ship that was crossing next morning. I went below in search of a cabin. There was a French sailor there to whom I explained my need."

"How?" I asked, for I do not share Ernest's opinion of his mastery of the French language, but he ignored this.

"It was dark down there," he went on, "too dark for him to see that I was in a private's uniform, so I put on a bit of side and he took me for an officer."

"A French officer?"

"Very likely. Anyway he found me a beautiful cabin with a lovely couch in it all covered with plush. You would have thought I should want nothing but to be left to sleep; but no, I saw that the officer in the next cabin had a candle, and there was no candle for me. Instantly my worst instincts were aroused. I felt I was being put upon. I demanded a candle. The sailor declared there wasn't one left."

"You're sure he understood what you were asking for?"

"Yes, I know that candle is boogy, thank you. I argued with him for ten minutes and then turned in, grumbling. Queer, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I said.

I sat there for a while, thinking over Ernest's story, which had, it seemed to me, something of the tract about it.

Later the midges began to attack us.

"Aren't these midges absolutely—" I began, and then stopped, remembering Ernest's tract. It only shows, as I said to Ernest, that we may learn something even from the most unlikely people.

"Wanted, a strong Boy, about 15 years old, for bottling, &c. The Brewery, Brixham."
The Western Guardian.

"Waiter, bring me a bottle of the boy."

"... contest the right of the Spanish authorities to intern damaged submarines seeking refuse in neutral ports."—Star.

The Spanish authorities are expected to reply that if that is what the U-boats are after there is no need for them to leave home.

First Artist. "BY GAD! OLD PARSLEY'S SURPASSED HIMSELF. LAMB CUTLETS, TWO CHOCOLATE CAKES AND THREE LUMPS OF SUGAR. RATTLING GOOD SUBJECT."

Second Artist. "I THOUGHT OF ONE NEARLY AS GOOD, BUT COULDN'T AFFORD THE MODELS."

HEART-TO-HEART TALKS.

(The GERMAN CROWN PRINCE and Fritz, his Valet.)

The Crown Prince (in bed and yawning). Is that you, Fritz?

Fritz. Yes, your Royal Highness. What uniform shall I lay out for his Royal Highness?

The C.P. You can lay out the best I have—the one of the Death's Head Hussars, with all my stars and medals. I am expecting an important visit.

Fritz (with a meaning smile). If I might venture so far, I would suggest to his Royal Highness that he should wear the Trench uniform, which I arranged with the bullet-holes and the mud-splashes. It creates a greater effect, especially if the visitor be a lady.

The C.P. Fritz, you dog, how dare you? Very well, have it your own way and let it be the Trench uniform.

Fritz. I am only anxious to promote his Royal Highness's interest in every possible way.

The C.P. I know, I know. Only we shall have old HINDENBURG growling and grunting and looking as black as a thundercloud. I cannot imagine what my revered father sees in that old wooden effigy, whose only idea of strategy is to retreat from strong positions. That, at any rate, is not the fashion in which I have learnt war. I'm thoroughly tired of hearing of all these HINDENBURG plans, which come to nothing.

Fritz. Your Royal Highness is, of course, right. But what I say to myself is that the ALL-HIGHEST, your Royal Highness's most gracious father, has in all this a deep-laid design to show conclusively that all these HINDENBURG plans mean nothing, so that in the end true skill and merit may have a chance, and the chief command may be placed in the only hands that are fit to exercise it. Oh, yes, I know what I'm talking about, and everyone I meet says the same.

The C.P. I have always felt that that must be so. No matter, a time will come. By the way, Fritz, have you packed up the Sèvres dinner-service?

Fritz. I have already packed six from as many different French and Belgian houses, and have sent them to Berlin, according to your Royal Highness's directions. Which does your Royal Highness refer to?

The C.P. I mean the one with the simple pattern of pink flowers and the coat-of-arms.

Fritz. Yes, that I have packed like the rest and have sent off.

The C.P. And the silver dishes and the lace?

Fritz. Yes, they have all gone.

The C.P. Good. And the clocks?

Fritz. Yes, I did in every case what your Royal Highness ordered me to do.

The C.P. And you packed them, I hope, with the greatest care?

Fritz. I did; nothing, I am certain, will suffer damage.

The C.P. Excellent. War is, no doubt, a rough and brutal affair, but at least it cannot be said that we Prussians do not behave like gentlemen.

Fritz. Your Royal Highness speaks, as always, the plain truth. How different from the degenerate French and the intolerable English.

The C.P. Yes, Fritz; and now you can go. Stay; there was something I wanted to ask you. Dear me, I am losing my memory. Ah! I have it. How is my offensive getting on? Has any news come in from the Chemin des Dames?

Fritz. Your Royal Highness's offensive has not advanced to any great extent. The French last night recaptured all their positions and even penetrated into ours.

The C.P. Did they? How very annoying. Somebody bungled, of course. Well, well, I shall have to put it right when I have time. Have you finished laying out my uniform? Yes. Then you can go.