shed after their holiday. But they sometimes contribute to our
amusement, as when one relentless and complacent critic declared that, on
the matter of conscription, he should himself "prefer to be guided--very
largely--by Lord Kitchener." The concession is something. Most of the
importunate questionists are on the other side:

"Take from us any joys you like," they cry;
"We'd bear the loss, however much we missed 'em;
Let truth and justice, fame and honour die,
But spare, O spare, our Voluntary System!"

Amongst other signs of the times the increase of girl gardeners and the
sacrifice of flower beds to vegetables are to be noted. But War changes are
sometimes disconcerting, even when they are most salutary. For example,
there is the _cri de coeur_ of a passenger on a Clydebank tramcar in
Glasgow on Saturday night, with a lady conductor: "I canna jist bottom
this, Tam. It's Seterday nicht an' this is the Clydebank caur, an' there's
naebody singin' an' naebody fechtin' wi' the conductor." Liquor control
evidently does mean something.

[Illustration: A HANDY MAN

MARINE;(somewhat late for parade): "At six o'clock I was a bloomin'
'ousemaid: at seven o'clock I was a bloomin' valet; at eight o'clock I was
a bloomin' waiter; an' _now_ I'm a bloomin' soldier!"]

The War vocabulary grows and grows. "Pipsqueaks," "crumps" and "Jack
Johnsons," picturesque equivalents for unpleasant things, have long been
familiar even to arm-chair experts. The strangely named "Archie," and
"Pacifist," the dismay of scholars--a word "mean as what it's meant to
mean"--now come to be added to the list. A new and admirable explanation of
the R.F.A., "Ready for anyfink," is attributed to a street Arab. Our
children are mostly lapped in blissful ignorance, but their comments are
often illuminating. As, for instance, the suggestion of a small child asked
to give her idea of a suitable future for Germany and the Kaiser: "After
the war I wouldn't let Heligoland belong to anybody. I would put the
Germans there, and they should dig and dig and dig until it was all dug
into the sea. The Kaiser should be sent to America, and they should be as
rude as they liked to him. If he went in a train no one was to offer him a
seat; he was to hang on to a strap, and he is to be called Mr. Smith."
Cooks are being bribed to stay by the gift of War Bonds. Smart fashionables
are flocking to munition works, and some of them sometimes are not
unnaturally gr