verrun us,
And they're bad enough on economic grounds;
For their annual depredation
On the food-stuffs of the nation
He would estimate at twenty million pounds.

True, O Puss, romance is lacking
In your latest champion's backing,
But at least he isn't talking through his hat;
And if, after all, what matters
Is to have "superior ratters"--
Well, he pays the highest homage to the Cat.

* * * * *

HEROISM.

There are heroes and heroes. All heroes are heroes: that is certain. But
there are some heroes whose heroism involves more thought (shall I
say?), more material, than that of others, who are heroic in a kind of
rush, without any premeditation--heroic by instinct. Now it seems to me
that the rewards of the more complex heroes ought--but let me
illustrate.

I have a friend who is a hero. The other day in France he did one of the
most desperate things, and did it apparently as a matter of course; and
he is to have the V.C. for it. But is the V.C. enough'? If it's enough
for the instinctive heroes, is it enough for him? That is my question.
The secret history of his deed is known only to me and to himself, and
when I give you an idea of it you will be able to answer.

I will tell you.

Never mind what the deed was. All I will say is that it is comparable to
the glorious feat of Lieutenant WARNEFORD, who bombed the Zeppelin from
above and sent it crashing down. My friend is an aviator too, and since
I am not allowed to describe his great performance in detail let us
pretend that it was an exact replica of the WARNEFORD triumph. Armed
with his bombs he saw the approaching Zepp and flew high, six or seven
thousand feet, to get above it. So far he had merely obeyed the dictates
of his brave impulsive nature. He had given no thought to the chances of
danger or death, but had flown direct to his duty. So far he was
instinctive. But my friend, as well as being unusually brave, is a
singularly retiring kind of man. He hates publicity, ostentation. Very
shy and very quiet, he moves about the world unperceived, and has all
the reluctances of the anchorite. Nothing but his deep feeling about the
War could have got him to do anything as prominent as aviation, so that
it is not unnatural that, as he mounted higher and higher and came
nearer and nearer to the desired point over the Zepp, he should suddenly
realise what it would mean for him if he succeeded in bringing