rovided with a seat,
and the President addressed me.

"Well, Mr. Smith, we can find nothing constitutionally wrong with you.
But tell me, have you ever had any serious illness?"

I shook my head. I had always been abnormally healthy.

"Think carefully," he urged. "We don't want to pass you as fit if we
can help it."

He seemed so anxious that I felt ashamed to disappoint him.

"Well," I replied, "the only thing I can call to mind is that,
according to my mother, I had a severe teething rash when I was ten
months old."

As I uttered these words the faces of all became suddenly grave.

"That is quite enough, Mr. Smith," said the President. "You are given
total exemption. You should never have been brought here at all, but I
am sure you will realise that in times of national emergency mistakes
of this nature are bound to occur. If you will apply to the Cashier on
your way out he will give you a draft for twenty pounds, to reimburse
you in some small way for the loss of your valuable time. Good-bye!"

He held out his hand, but before I could grasp it a mist again
enveloped me, from which I emerged upon the dreadful facts of life.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Employer._ "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

_Old Operative._ "'AVING ME 'AIR CUT."

_Employer._ "WHAT, IN _MY_ TIME?"

_Old Operative._ "WELL, IT GREW IN YOUR TIME."]

* * * * *

SONGS OF FOOD PRODUCTION

VI.

BALLAD OF THE POTATO.

Above three hundred years ago
To Britain's shores there came
An immigrant of lineage low--
Sol Tuberose his name.

He settled down in mean estate,
Despised on every side,
Until at last he waxed great,
Grew rich and multiplied.

Now none so popular as he;
To every house he goes,
At every table he must be--
The great Sol Tuberose!

In time of war he proves his worth
He helps us everywhere;
There's nothing on (or in) this earth
That can with him compare.

Not the great LLOYD could save the land
Except for mighty Sol;
For he is Bread's twin-brother--and
He gives us Alcohol;

Not such as fills the toper's tum,
But such as fills the shell--
Such as will be in days to come
Heat, light, and pow'r as well.

Yes, in the spacious days to come
We'll bless Sol Tuberose,
When all our motor engines hum
On what the farmer grows.

Then cultivate him all you can,
With him an