l national work on the
land."--_Mr. PROTHERO'S letter in "The Daily Telegraph."_

If there are 200,000 women in almost every part of England there can't
be much chance for the men, particularly the single men.

* * * * *

THE WAR DOG.

Never confuse the "War dog" with the "dog of War." The War dog is a
direct product of the War, but you never yet met him collecting for
a hospital, or succouring the wounded, or assisting the police, or
hauling a mitrailleuse if he could help it. Yet the War dog worships
the Army; it represents a square meal and a "cushy" bed. The new draft
takes him for a mascot; but the old hand knows him better. A shameless
blend of petty larceny, mendacity, fleas, gourmandism, dirt and
unequalled plausibility.

You meet the War dog on some endless road. He will probably be wearing
round his neck a piece of dirty card analogous to the eye patch and
drooping Inverness cape of some mendicants nearer home--a "property"
in fact, and put there by himself, the writer is convinced, although
he has not yet actually caught the War dog dressing for the part. The
War dog on the road has "spotted" you long before you have seen him,
and he has marked you for his own. You become conscious of a piteous
whine just behind you and, turning, see the War dog, his eyes filled
with tears of entreaty, crawling towards you on his stomach. He
advances inch by inch, and on being encouraged with comfortable words
of invitation the parasite wriggles his lean body (it is trained
to _look_ lean--actually it is well padded with stolen food from
officers' kitchens) up to your feet, and, selecting a puddle in token
of his deep humility, rolls upon his back and smiles tearfully up
at you from between his grimy fore-paws. Then the game goes forward
merrily as per schedule.

Of course you take him back to camp and give him your last piece of
Blighty cake. You introduce your protege--always crawling on his
stomach--to the cook; swear to the dog's immaculate conduct; beg a
trifle of straw from the transport, and in short see him comfortably
settled for the night.

The War dog has you now well beneath his paws. He joins the Mess and
listens with an ill-concealed grin as each in turn boasts of the
rat-catching powers of his dog at home. Then the War dog retreats
hurriedly as a mouse appears; and you, his victim, apologise for him
and explain how he has been shaken by adversity and what a noble
cre