s was
vital. Every trick and every device of camouflage should be brought
into play. There should be no violent preliminary bombardment of
ground-bait to alarm the hostile forces, but the sector should be
unostentatiously registered on the preceding night. The enemy's first
realisation of attack should be at that moment when resistance was
futile--though for his part he preferred a foe that would fight to the
fish-basket, as it were. He thought the weather was vastly improved
and admitted that his hopes were high.

In the evening the Colonel positively swaggered into Mess. He radiated
good fellowship and even bandied witticisms with the junior subaltern
in an admirable spirit of give-and-take. He had enjoyed excellent
sport. Later, in the ante-room, he delivered a useful little homily on
the surmounting of obstacles, on patience, on presence of mind and on
nerve, copiously illustrated from a day's triumph that will resound
on the Murman coast as the unconditional surrender of the intimidated
roach. He described how he had cunningly outmanoeuvred the patrols,
defeated the vigilance of the pickets, pierced the line of resistance,
launched a surprise attack on the main body, and spread panic in the
hearts of the hostile legions.

Unhappily for us, common decency, he said, had forced him to present
his catch to his friend.

* * * * *

"Wanted, to kill time whilst waiting demobilisation, an old
gun, rifle, or pistol."--_Morning Paper_.

Now we know why Time flies.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Barber_ (_carried away by his reminiscences_). "AND
WHEN HE'D LOOPED THE LOOP HE DID A NOSE-DIVE THAT FAIRLY TOOK YOUR
BREATH AWAY."]

* * * * *

THE TWOPENNY BIN.

It was called _Greatheart_; or, _Samuel's Sentimental Side_; and I
think you will agree that it was a lot of title for twopence. Day
after day, as I fumbled among the old books in the Twopenny Bin of the
little secondhand bookseller's shop, that volume would wriggle itself
forward and worm its way into my hands; and I would clench my teeth
and thrust it to the remotest depths of the box.

Then it haunted me. All day in my room I could hear _Greatheart_; or,
_Samuel's Sentimental Side_ calling out to me, "How would you like to
be in the Twopenny Bin?"

I began to grow sentimental myself, and to handle those unconsidered
trifles with tenderness. For you never kn