O.C.  A Company to Quartermaster.

Please note fact that the boots, khaki suede uppers, pair, one, issued yesterday to 21537 Private B. Prig, are not supplied with regulation Louis-Quinze heels.  The boots are therefore herewith returned.

  BOADICEA BLUNT.
      Capt.  O.C.  A Coy.

From O.C.  B Company to O.C.  D Company.

Herewith A.F. 26511, with cheque for pay of 2773, Private O. Jones, B Company, attached D Company, for your attention and necessary action, please.

(Have you heard the absolutely latest?  The Major is engaged, and she has asked O.C.  C Company and the Quartermaster to be bridesmaids!  Not that I wanted to take it on.  But think of poor dear O.C.  C! Won’t she look too-too?)

  MILDRED NORTON,
      Capt.  O.C.  B Coy.

From Adjutant to Lieut.  S.O.  Marshall.

Please note that you are detailed as a member of a Board of Survey, which assembles at these Headquarters on January 31st for the purpose of inquiring into the circumstances whereby box, powder, face, one, on charge of this unit, became used up suddenly.  The Quartermaster will arrange for the necessary witnesses to attend, and the proceedings will be forwarded to the Adjutant in triplicate.

* * * * *

OUR MILITARY EXPERTS.

    “The invasion of Switzerland ... if accomplished rapidly and with luck,
    would involve a threat to the French left and to the communications
    with Italy.”—­Pall Mall Gazette.

Our own Military Expert is of opinion that the invasion of Holland would in very much the same way threaten the British right and our communications with Scotland.

* * * * *

“The use of barkless dogs, songless cats and whispering parrots is advocated in Philadelphia, following on recent announcements from the battlefields of Europe that ‘brayless’ mules have been perfected for trench and other battle-front labours by a simple operation on the nostrils and the nerves affecting the vocal cords.”—­Daily Paper.

Why not speechless Presidents?

* * * * *

NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN.

(SECOND SERIES.)

XVI.

MARYLEBONE.

  Mary Lebone
    She gets no meat,
  She never has anything
    Nice to eat;
  A supper fit
    For a dog alone
  Is all the fare
    Of poor Mary Lebone. 
  She squats by the corner
    Of Baker Street
  And snuffs the air
    So spicy and sweet
  When the Bakers are baking
    Their puddings and pies,
  Their buns and their biscuits
    And Banburies—­
  A tart for Jocelyn
    A cake for Joan,
  And nothing at all
    For poor Mary Lebone!