laborious days

In working at Y.M.C.A.'s;

The servants vanished. Cook was found

Doing the conscript baker's round;

The housemaid, Jane, in shortened skirt

(She always was a brazen flirt),

Forsook her dusters, brooms and pails

To carry on with endless mails.

The parlourmaid became a vet.,

The tweeny a conductorette,

And both the others found their missions

In manufacturing munitions.

I was a City man. I knew

No useful trade. What could I do?

Your Granddad, boy, was not the sort

To yield to fate; he was a sport.

I set to work; I rose at six,

Summer and winter; chopped the sticks,

Kindled the fire, made early tea

For Aunties and the V.A.D.

I cooked the porridge, eggs and ham,

Set out the marmalade and jam,

And packed the workers off, well fed,

Well warmed, well brushed, well valeted.

I spent the morning in a rush

With dustpan, pail and scrubbing-brush;

Then with a string-bag sallied out

To net the cabbage or the sprout,

Or in the neighbouring butcher's shop

Select the juiciest steak or chop.

So when the sun had sought the West,

And brought my toilers home to rest,

Savours more sweet than scent of roses

Greeted their eager-sniffing noses—

Savours of dishes most divine

Prepared and cooked by skill of mine.

I was a General. Now you know

How Generals helped to down the foe."

The little chap slipped off my knee

And gazed in solemn awe at me,

Stood at attention, stiff and mute,

And gave his very best salute.

"Prescriptions (C.P.—197/30).—The replies to your queries are as follows:—(a) Refuse; (b) refuse; (c) refuse; (d) refuse; (e) No."—Pharmaceutical Journal.

We have often felt like that about prescriptions ourselves, but have never ventured to say so.