When the fighting is finally over, And victory smiles on our land, And we 're living in comfort and clover, We must take our religion in hand; We must make it heroic and German, With "Fatherland-love" as its fount; We must reconcile War with the Sermon Once preached on the Mount.
'Twill embrace the disciples of HAECKEL'S Monistic material creed, The Mammonite worship of shekels, The gospel of hunger and greed; And the layman, so Laodicean, No more his devotions will shirk, But will kneel with the mild Manichean, The amiable Turk.
In fine, there'll be nothing sectarian In Germany's National Church; And the pedants, Pelagian and Arian, Will be knocked from their petulant perch; All paltry divisions 'twill level That tend to enfeeble the Hun, And the worship of God and the Devil Will merge into one.
"Miss ---- has a sweet voice.... Perhaps her greatest appeal was simplicity and an entire lack of effectiveness."
We have singers just like that in the old country, too.
"Lieutenant ---- is reported wounded by the War Office."--_Liverpool Daily Post._
He is not the only one who has been hurt by this agency.
"WANTED immediately for Boys' Industrial School (temporarily and possibly permanently), an All-round Tanner."--_Natal Mercury._
There is evidently a good deal of leathering to be done.
"She had been hung up by one arm in the sun for two days and nights."
Somewhere north of the Arctic Circle, we presume.
He boarded the 'bus just as it was leaving Piccadilly Circus. "Full ahtside," chanted the conductor, so the A.B. squeezed into a totally inadequate space between a girl of sixteen and an elderly and benevolent-looking lady. Squaring himself forward, he placed a hand like a boxing-glove on either knee and glanced genially up and down the 'bus. He was a large man, dark and hairy, and it was quite easy to associate him with pigtails, tar and cutlasses. After the first impression there came to one a sense of something odd and un-nautical. Then one became suddenly aware that, instead of the regulation Navy cap, he was wearing a rough woollen tam-o'-shanter, which hung coyly over one ear.
A thin man in a top-hat was the first to notice it.
"Still pretty cold in the North Sea?" he ventured, with an eye upon the tam-o'-shanter.