ature a few days of good food and kind treatment will make of him.
The rest is simple. The War dog (with his court) invades your bed
and home parcels, and brings you into disrepute with all and
sundry--especially the Cook and Quarter. He is fought and soundly
thrashed by the regimental mascot (half his size), and the battalion
wit composes limericks about you and your pet.

Then suddenly your War dog disappears. You are just beginning to live
him down--having moved into another area--when you espy him from the
street, the centre of a noisy group in a not too reputable wine-shop.
But the War dog never recognises you. He has finished with you--grown
tired of you, in fact (he rarely "works" the same victim for more than
three weeks). You and your battalion are to him as it were a bone
picked clean; and you depart with a prayer that he may die a stray's
death at the hands of the Military Police.

One month travelling snugly in a G.S. waggon (you never catch him
marching like an honest mascot), the next "swinging the lead" in some
warm dug-out--there are few moves on the board of the great War game
that he does not know. He will patronise a score of regiments in three
months; travel from one end of the Western Front to the other and back
again, taking care never to attempt to renew an old acquaintance.
Occasionally he makes the mistake of running across a mitrailleuse
battery with its dog-teams needing reinforcements, or tries to billet
himself on a military pigeon-loft and meets a violent death. But
whatever fortune may bring him we can confidently assert that he is
much too fly to chance his luck across the border and into the land
where the sausage-machines guard the secret of perpetual motion.

* * * * *

IN WILD WALES.

Dwarfing the town that to the hillside clings
On terraced slopes, the castle, nobly planned
And noble in its ruined greatness, flings
Its double challenge to the sea and land.

Oh, if the ancient spirit of the place
Could win free utterance in articulate tones,
What tales to hearten and inspire and brace
Would issue from these grey and lichened stones!

Once manned and held by paladin and peer,
Now tenanted by jackdaws, bats and owls,
Save when the casual tourist through its drear
And grass-grown courts disconsolately prowls.

Once famous as the scene of Border fights,
Now watching, in the greatest war of all,
Old men