of
ELDER DEMPSTER'S--'e 'ad the biggest thirst I ever struck."

"But the ring?" I said. "I suppose it was there all right?"

He stopped his pipe down with his thumb, with an enigmatical expression.

"That's where the bloomin' coincidence come in," he said; "it weren't."

C.F.S.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Colonel_ (_to private told off to act as caddie_). "NOW I
HOPE YOU KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT IT. THE LAST MAN I HAD PUT ME RIGHT OFF. HAVE
YOU EVER HANDLED CLUBS BEFORE?"

_Private_. "NOT SINCE I PLAYED IN THE AMATEUR CHAMPIONSHIP, SIR." (_Colonel
is put off again._)]

* * * * *

"Miss ----, the World-renounced Teacher of Dancing."--_Southern Standard_.

Another victim of the War.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Major-General_ (_addressing the men before practising an
attack behind the lines_). "I WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT THERE IS A
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A REHEARSAL, AND THE REAL THING. THERE ARE THREE
ESSENTIAL DIFFERENCES: FIRST, THE ABSENCE OF THE ENEMY. NOW (_turning to
the Regimental Sergeant-Major_) WHAT IS THE SECOND DIFFERENCE?"

_Sergeant-Major_. "THE ABSENCE OF THE GENERAL, SIR."]

* * * * *

TO TOWSER.

No pampered pound of peevish fluff
That goggles from a lady's muff
Art thou, my Towser. In the Park
Thy form occasions no remark
Unless it be a friendly call
From soldiers walking in the Mall,
Or the impertinence of pugs
Stretched at their ease on carriage rugs.
For thou art sturdy and thy fur
Is rougher than the prickly burr,
Thy manners brusque, thy deep "bow wow"
(Inherited, but Lord knows how!)
Far other than the frenzied yaps
That emanate from ladies' laps,
Thou art, in fact, of doggy size
And hast the brown and faithful eyes,
So full of love, so void of blame,
That fill a master's heart with shame
Because he knows he never can
Be more a dog and less a man.
No champion of a hundred shows,
The prey of every draught that blows,
Art thou; in fact thy charms present
The earmarks of a mixed descent.
And, though too proud to start a fight
With every cur that looms in sight,
None ever saw thee quail beneath
A foeman worthy of thy teeth.
Thou art, in brief, a model hound,
Not so much beautiful as sound
In heart and limb; not always strong
When nose and eyes impel to wrong,
Nor always doing just as b