er thanks--
Nay, do not blank my blanky blanks!
I could not help but leave the ranks;
Birthdays are more than dressing."

The Sergeant was a kindly soul,
He loved his men upon the whole,
He'd also had a father's _role_
Pressed on him fairly lately.
"Brave Chadd," he said, "thou speakest sooth!
O happy day! O pious youth!
Great," he extemporized, "is Truth,
And it shall flourish greatly."

The Sergeant took him by the hand
And led him to the Captain, and
The Captain tried to understand,
And (more or less) succeeded;
"Correct me if you don't agree,
But one of you wants _what_?" said he,
And George Augustus Chadd said, "Me!"
Meaning of course that _he_ did.

The Captain took him by the ear
And gradually brought him near
The Colonel, who was far from clear,
But heard it all politely,
And asked him twice, "You want a _what_?"
The Captain said that _he_ did not,
And Chadd saluted quite a lot
And put the matter rightly.

The Colonel took him by the hair
And furtively conveyed him where
The General inhaled the air,
Immaculately booted;
Then said, "Unless I greatly err
This Private wishes to prefer
A small petition to you, Sir,"
And so again saluted.

The General inclined his head
Towards the two of them and said,
"Speak slowly, please, or shout instead;
I'm hard of hearing, rather."
So Chadd, that promising recruit,
Stood to attention, clicked his boot,
And bellowed, with his best salute,
"_A happy birthday, Father_!"

THE VISITORS' BOOK

"As man of the world," said Blake, stretching himself to his full height
of five foot three, and speaking with the wisdom of nineteen years, "I
say that it can't be done. In any other company, certainly; at
headquarters, possibly; but not in D Company. D Company has a
reputation."

"All I say," said Rogers, "is that, if you can't run any mess in the
trenches on four francs a day, you're a rotten mess president."

Blake turned dramatically to his company commander.

"Did you hear that, Billy?" he asked.

"Yes," said Billy. "I was just going to say it myself."

"Then, in that case, I have the honour to resign the mess presidency."

"Nothing doing, old boy. You're detailed."

"You can't be detailed to be a president. Presidents are elected by
popular acclamation. They resign--they resign--"

"To avoid being shot."

"Well, anyhow, they resign. I shall send my resignation in to the Army
Council to-night. It will appear in 'The Gaze