class="c4">The right to put one's neighbours in their place;
I liked to argue and I loved to pass
Slighting remarks on Robert, who's an ass,
To hint that Henry's manners were no class,
Or simply say I did not like his face.

But things are changed. To-day I had a tussle
With some low scion of an upstart line;
Meagre his intellect, absurd his muscle,
I should have strafed him in the days long syne;
I took a First, and he could hardly parse;
I have more eloquence but he more stars;
Yet (so insane the ordinance of Mars)
I must say "Yessir," and salute the swine.

And it was hard when that abrupt Staff-Major
Up to the firing-line one evening came
(Unknown his motive, probably a wager),
And said quite rudely, "You are much to blame;
Those beggars yonder you should enfilade."
I fingered longingly a nice grenade;
I said those beggars were our First Brigade,
But might not call him any kind of name.

Yet not for ever shall the bard be muted
By stars and stripes, but freely, as of yore,
When swords are sheathed and I'm civilian-suited,
I shall have speech with certain of my corps,
Speak them the insults which I now but brood:
"Pompous," "incompetent," "too fond of food,"
And fiercely taste the bliss of being rude
And unrestrained by Articles of War.

That will be great; but what if such intentions
Are likewise present in the Tenth Platoon?
What if some labourer of huge dimensions
Meet me defenceless in a Tube saloon,
And hiss his catalogue of unpaid scores,
How oft I criticised his forming fours,
Or prisoned him behind the Depôt doors,
Or kept him digging on the Fourth of June?

Painful. And then, when all these arméd millions
Unknot with zest the military noose,
Will the whole world be full of wroth civilians,
Each one exulting in a tongue let loose?
And who shall picture or what bard shall pen
The crowning horror which awaits us then—
That civil warfare of uncivil men
In one great Armageddon of abuse?

A Pluralist.

The writer of a letter appearing in The Daily Mail signs herself "Wife of Group 41."

THE QUESTION OF THE HOUR.

John Bull (to himself). "TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, MY FRIEND—YOU'VE BEEN DOING YOURSELF TOO WELL. IF YOU MEAN TO WIN THIS WAR YOU'VE GOT TO SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO WITHOUT."

FRANK.

In my first formal introduction to Frank he appeared, together with his clothing and various belongings, as an item in a list of things to be taken over. I knew him already by reputation, and I remembered some of the occasions when he had appeared on parade. Also I knew that two successive Company Commanders had managed in turn to exchange him with some unsuspecting newly appointed O.C. Company for something more tractable. This last process, indeed, accounted for my having to take him over instead of the mild creature with the duck-waddle action which my predecessor had ridden or, let me say, sat.

It became then my lot to take over Frank, or, to put it more correctly, I was issued with him. That is part of the military principle of fixing responsibility. Things are not issued to you; you are issued with them, and you alone are accountable. I was issued with Frank and all his harness and appointments and, incidentally, his parlour tricks. This was the formal introduction. I didn't meet him at close range until later. When I was issued with him I didn't even know his name. No previous owner had ever thought of asking it, and had they asked they would not have believed that a horse could be called Frank. On general principles it seems wrong, but on nearer acquaintance I found that Frank was exactly the name for him. The great thing about him was that if he thought a thing he said it.

For example, when I first mounted him he thought he would prefer to remain in the stable where he had been for the best part of a week. He said so quite candidly. I am nothing very great as a handler of wild animals, and he gave me three minutes made up of every action in his repertoire—no limited one. At the end of it I very kindly dismounted. I didn't want him to think I was not intelligent enough to understand what he meant, and moreover I hated the idea of marring our first meeting by refusing so unmistakable a request. So he was led back to his quarters and the incident closed, if not with mutual goodwill at least with some degree of satisfaction fairly evenly distributed among the parties.

It was, I remember, on the next morning that the Mess Sergeant noticed a shortage of lump sugar in one of the basins. I mention this merely because it fixes in my mind the first day on which I had a comfortable ride. Frank started out in a good temper and came home at his best pace, hoping to get some more sugar. That, at least, is how I read his meaning, and I pursued my policy of not misunderstanding him. After this he developed a parlour trick which made me quite fond of him. When I went to the stable he would put his nose round to the side pocket whore I kept the sugar. He always got some, and he knew there would always be some more when he got home.

Thus it became necessary to instruct him in topography. He quickly learned that certain turnings led to the camp, and I was reduced to subterfuges to prove to him that they did not. It was essential to go over every road at various times in opposite directions. That confused him, and though I disliked the deception I had to resort to it, with the result that Frank finally accepted me at my own fictitious valuation as a person who did not properly know his own mind.

But it took him some time to get into my ways. Once we spent twenty minutes on a small stretch of road leading from the parade ground to a railway bridge. I wanted to cross the bridge and Frank did not. I took him towards the bridge and he took me back towards the camp. This happened thirteen times. At the fourteenth there was a variation; he changed his mind and we crossed the bridge. During the twenty minutes, I remember, we had a further slight disagreement about a stick. I was glad I had brought it, and he was not. But on the other side of the bridge we let bygones be bygones. Frank had his moods, but he was always a gentleman.

He was also a soldier. His strong point really was that he was excellent on parade. He would look round, grasp the formation at a glance, and drop into his place. He was never