you refer to the other branch, the mere pulling down of houses, I say,
'No! A thousand times, no!' He should be taught that there is a crying need
for a constructive, not a destructive policy. Let him adopt one; buy him
drawing-paper and a tee-square at once, and teach him that the noblest work
of creation is (unless it be a bricklayer or builder) an architect. Though
the War is over we must still keep the home fires burning. This implies
chimneys, and chimneys imply houses, and few there be that can plan houses
that will both please the eye and pass the local authorities."

Lady Jubb wrote from Toffley Hall, Blankshire, to say that her elder son
(seventeen) had no ideas for the future beyond becoming Master of the
Barchester when he grew up, but that she was anxious that he should try for
some more lucrative post, official preferred.

I replied thus:--

"So your son looks no higher than a Mastership of Foxhounds. Well, well, I
suppose that so long as there are such things as hounds he, as well as
another, may take on the job of Master.

"But I thoroughly approve of your desire that he should try for something
higher in life, especially for some official post; and what official post
is or can be superior to that of a Borough Surveyor? Can you not persuade
him that this great office is what one chooses to make it, and that, as an
autocrat, the M.F.H. is hardly to be compared to the B.S., for, whereas the
former can at the most scorch the few people foolish enough to remain
within ear-shot, the latter can with a breath damn a whole row of houses
and blast the careers of an army of builders with a word."

And so the propaganda proceeds.

If my efforts result in even one house being erected I shall, I think, have
earned my O.B.E., though I would rather have the house.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _My Lady Bountiful._ "SO YOUR MOTHER IS BETTER THROUGH
TAKING THE QUININE I GAVE HER?"

_Little Girl_ (_doing her best to carry out instructions_). "YES'M. BUT SHE
SAYS SHE'S WORSE OF THE COMPLAINT WOT YOU GIVES 'ER PORT WINE FOR."]

* * * * *

THE TERRITORIAL.

Oh, civil life is fine and free, with no one to obey,
No sergeants shouting, "Show a leg!" or "Double up!" all day;
No buttons to be polished, no army boots to wear,
And nobody to tick you off because you grow your hair.

It's great to sleep beneath a roof that keeps the rain outside,
To