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.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  THE RECRUIT’S FAREWELL TO HIS BOWLER.]

* * * * *

JOLLYMOUSE.

In what I will particularise as the ——­ area of the War zone, there is a small village-by-a-stream where Generals stride about the narrow streets or whirl through them in gigantic cars, and guards at every corner clank and turn out umpty times a day.  Down in the hollow the stream by the village laughs placidly along, mocking at the Great War, but I doubt if the Generals have much time to listen to it, for the village-by-the-stream is a Corps Headquarters.

However the Doctor led us (which includes the War Babe and James the Acting Adjutant) to the village-by-the-stream, where, just across the stone bridge, he indicated on the wall of a house the legend: 

RESTAURANT FOR OFFICERS.

TEA, COFFEE, CHAMPAGNE AND ALL SUCH ARTICLE IS SELL HERE.

“Tea,” he said feelingly, “and there will be china cups and thin bread-and-butter, and real milk and come along in.”

It was rather a composite restaurant.  There was a glassed-in balcony with tables and chairs; and all around there were puttees, handkerchiefs, paper-weights, inkstands, wrist-watches and electric torches.  There were loose-leaved pocket diaries of abominable ingenuity (irresistible to Adjutants); collars and ties to clothe the neck of man, and soap to wash it withal.  Hair lotions, safety-razors, pate de foie gras, sponges and writing-pads jostled each other on the shelves.  Walking-sticks and bottles of champagne lay in profusion on the floor.  It was less of a restaurant than an emporium, but the Doctor sat down contentedly and rang the bell; and the War Babe threw out battle patrols to reconnoitre the position.

He passed unscathed through the barrage of sticks and diaries; evaded skilfully the indirect fire of electric torches; reached his first objective among the soap-boxes, and there met his fate.