day_.

* * * * *

THE DISCIPLINARIAN.

Saluting is rapidly becoming a thing of the past, even among
British-born soldiers. Dating from the Armistice, it has lapsed more
and more, until now it is practically extinct.

Now I regard this as serious. I have ever been a stickler for
discipline, and consequently I dislike it when men pass by--not, like
the Levite, on the other side--but close to me without so much as a
click of the eyeballs.

So I decided that I as a disciplinarian would make a stand against it;
I would keep my eyes open for any particularly flagrant case. When I
found it I intended to let myself go. I promised myself an agreeable
ten minutes--or longer, if I got properly worked up.

My chance came the other day. I was strolling down Regent Street when
three N.C.O.'s, including a sergeant, passed me. They did not salute.
I might have been a civilian for all the notice they took of me. Ha!
my hour had come.

Turning, I hastened after them.

"Sergeant, a word."

They stopped and the Sergeant asked if I was speaking to him.

"Have you ever heard of the little word 'Sir,' Sergeant?" I asked
severely. "Evidently not. However I pass over that. But a moment ago
you went by me without saluting. Deliberately--inexcusably. I was as
close to you as I am now."

"But how--" began the Sergeant.

"Not a word," I cut him short. "Not a word. You know perfectly well
that you have neglected your duty grossly. Now tell me. Is it your own
idea to drop saluting, or has Mr. CHURCHILL had a word in your ear?"
(Sarcasm is my strong point.)

"But look here--" said the Sergeant, rather red in the face.

"Do not interrupt," I thundered, warming to my work. "How, I ask,
do you expect the ordinary soldier to salute when _you_ slink past
officers--you, who ought to be a shining example? Now I am going to
report--"

Something in the Sergeant's eye, which seemed to be travelling over my
person generally, made me suddenly glance down at myself, and it was
then that, horror-struck, I realised that I was wearing for the first
time my new ten-guinea suit.

As I faded away the Sergeant clicked his heels and saluted smartly.

* * * * *

THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

"Lady will exchange clothing, self, little girl, for farm butter,
eggs, jam."--_The Lady_.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Infuriated Italian (who has recently purch