"'The learned say that your light will one day be no more,' said the firefly to the stars. The stars made no answer."--R.T.
That's what I should have done, but MICHAELIS would keep on talking.--W.
"God is ashamed when the prosperous boast of His special favour."--R.T.
This must be some other god, not our German one.--W.
"Power takes as ingratitude the writhings of its victims."--R.T.
And quite rightly. That's all the thanks I got when my heart bled for Louvain.--W.
"Kicks only raise dust and not crops from the earth."--R.T.
Very sound. Roumania has been most disappointing.--W.
"Timid thoughts, do not be afraid of me. I am a poet."--R.T.
I shall send a copy of my collected poems to FERDIE.--W.
As I am not a banker or a high official swell, I never felt a pressing need for dressing extra well; And yet there were occasions, in days not long remote, When I assumed the stately garb of topper and frock-coat.
But war's demands, if you desire to tread the simple road, Are somewhat hard to reconcile with the Decalogue of Mode; So I gave away my topper to the man who winds our clocks, With a strangely mixed assortment of collars, ties and socks.
And if I haven't parted from my dear old silk-faced friend It isn't out of sentiment--all that is at an end-- It's simply that the highest bid, in cash paid promptly down, I've had from any son of SHEM is only half-a-crown.
"The plots cultivated by the men who have learned in the best school of all--experience--stand out clearly among the others. There is no overcrowing on their land."--_Evening News_.
"Wanted, September and October, a comfortably Furnished House; five bedrooms, in adjoining counties."--_East Anglian Daily Times_.
KAISER. "HAD A GLORIOUS TIME ON THE EASTERN FRONT."
HINDENBURG. "A LITTLE LOUDER, ALL-LOUDEST. I CAN'T HEAR YOU FOR THESE CURSED BRITISH GUNS IN THE WEST."]
[Illustration: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THROWING STONES AT THOSE BOYS?"
"IT'S ORL RIGHT, SIR. WE'RE LEARNIN' 'EM TO TAKE COVER FOR AIR RAIDS."]
Out here the telephone exists largely as a vehicle for the _jeux d'esprit_ of the Brass Lids. It is a one-way affair, working only from the inside out, for if you have a trifle of repartee to impart to the Brazen Ones the apparatus is either indefinitely engaged, or _Na poo_ (as the French say). If you are one of these bulldog lads and are determined to make the thing talk from the outside in, you had better migrate _chez_ Signals, taking your bed, blankets, beer, tobacco and the unexpired portion of next week's ration, and camp at the telephone orderly's elbow. After a day or two it will percolate through to the varlet's intelligence that you are a desperate dog in urgent need of something, and he will bestir himself, and mayhap in a further two or three days' time he will wind a crank, pull some strings, and announce that you are "on," and you will find yourself in animated conversation with an inspector of cemeteries, a jam expert at the Base, or the Dalai Lama. If you want to give back-chat to the Staff you had best take it there by hand.