d bein' like them chaps what stands in the gutter and
whispers, 'Umberella ring a penny,' to their boots."

"But what about the D.C.M.?"

"I'm comin' to it, Sir. You see, I got it in connection with a little bit
o' work Trones Wood way. Through various circs, fault o' nobody really, me
and Sam Corney found ourselves alone alongside a dug-out full o' Bosches.
If we'd 'ad a few bombs we'd 'a' bin all right, but we 'adn't. I sez to
Sam, 'We must scare 'em,' I sez, and I shouts, '_'Oo says a blood orange?_'
at the top o' my voice into the dug-out, which was dark, of course, and I
stands in the doorway with my bayonet ready. I can't say what they mistook
it for. Crack o' doom, Sam sez. But eight come out o' that dug-out with
their 'ands up. I sent Sam off 'ome with 'em, though they'd 'a' gone with
no escort at all, I reckon, bein' sort o' stunned. And I went on down the
trench.

"At the turn there was another dug-out. '_'Ave a banana?_' I yells, and out
come ten of 'em, cryin' for mercy. I took 'em back to what we calls
Petticoat Lane and 'ands 'em over and come up again. But I didn't get no
more barrow-work that day, and my D.C.M. was for them prisoners right
enough. So now you see what I feels like about the fruit business. It's
like an old pal bein' done in."

"I shouldn't worry too much about it," I said. "You've each had a bit of a
knock-out; but you'll soon be on your legs again, and so will your barrow,
and going strong, both of you."

* * * * *

SCOTLAND YET.

[Dr. GEORG BIEDENKAPP, writing in the _Muenchner Neueste Nachrichten_,
says that if you examine any famous "Englishman" you find that he
really comes from Scotland, to which country he assigns a place with
Suabia, Thuringia, and the Hartz Mountains as "a cradle of Kultur and a
fountain of first-class genius."]

Man Sandy, here's a German Hun
Wha thinks he's on a track
That nane hae trodden, having fun'
A new an' stairtlin' fac';
A' English thocht he doots is nocht,
An' English ways are henious,
But ah, says he, in Scotland see
The hame o' first-class genius.

New? Why, my feyther kent it fine,
An', Sandy, I'll be sworn
The knowledge o' the fac' was mine
Or ever I was born;
If there be ane wad daur maintain
The truth is still to settle,
I haena met the madman yet
In bonny braw Kingskettle.

Ay, yon's a truth that's kent fu' weel
In ilka bu