we proceed for rest and recreation to Berlin; our one
fear being that when we get there we shall be turned on to military
police duty, and the protection of German women and children against
their own men-folk.

Meanwhile to-morrow's programme is less dashing. It consists of Church
Parade. The Musketry Detachment is at some little distance from the main
body, so the Padre has arranged for a private parade of our own. An
officer is to read the lessons and has been instructed for the purpose.
"The Party," as we call him for convenience, "will move two paces
forward and, upon the word 'one,' will take the Book smartly in the left
hand. Upon the word 'two' he will raise his right thumb to his lower lip
and moisten the same, thus enabling it to turn over the page
efficiently. When this movement is complete, he will cut away the right
hand sharply and proceed to carry out his duties." Don't suppose we are
irreligious--far from it; but always we are disciplinarians. I believe
there is somewhere in the _Infantry Training_ a correct way laid down
for blowing your nose to numbers.

Yours ever, HENRY.

* * * * *

"TRADING WITH THE ENEMY BILL."

We prefer to say (less familiarly), "Settling accounts with the
KAISER."

* * * * *

A FOOD WAR.

Some folk believe that wars commence
From greed of gain or self-defence;
But Austrian sages have divined
Incitements of a different kind.

The Servian Army (so 'tis said)
Has run completely out of bread,
And every day the hungry souls
Fight Austria for Vienna rolls.

The Austrian battles with the TSAR
Because he dotes on caviare,
And must that monarch's realm invade
Because he likes it freshly made.

The Russians cannot do without
The soul-sustaining _sauerkraut_,
And march their armies to the West
Because Berliners make the best.

The German confidently thinks
That absinthe is the prince of drinks,
And therefore must attack the land
That keeps the most seductive brand.

The Frenchman, tired of his _ragouts_,
Covets the meat that Teutons use,
And charges like an avalanche
For German sausage, not _revanche_.

The Briton, vexed by rules austere,
Has heard the fame of German beer,
And nought his onward march can stop
While Munich holds a single drop.

The bold Italian stands prepared
With rifle loaded, sabre bared,
And to a questioning world r