n't put you off, write to the Town Clerk for the Medical
Officer's report on the Town Water Supply.]

[In view of the official discouragement of railway-travelling
something should be done to eradicate from the minds of the public
any favourable impressions created by the posters of the past.]

* * * * *

[Illustration: TRIALS OF A CAMOUFLAGE OFFICER.

_Flapper_. "OH, I'VE HEARD SUCH WONDERFUL THINGS ABOUT
CAMOUFLAGE--MAKING MEN LOOK LIKE GUNS, AND GUNS LIKE COWS, AND ALL
THAT SORT OF THING. COULDN'T YOU DO SOME OF YOUR TRICKS HERE?"]

* * * * *

THE INCORRIGIBLES.

HOW AN EXASPERATED ADJUTANT WOULD _LIKE_ TO ADDRESS THE NEW GUARD.

"Guard! for I still concede to you the title,
Though well I know that it is not your due,
Being devoid of everything most vital
To the high charge which is imposed on you;
Listen awhile--and, Number Two, be dumb;
Forbear to scratch the irritable tress;
No longer masticate the furtive gum;
And, Private Pitt, stop nibbling at your thumb,
And for a change attend to my address.

"Day after day I urge the old, old thesis--
To reverence well the man of martial note,
Nor treat as mere sartorial caprices
The mystic marks he carries on his coat,
And how to know what everybody is,
The swords, the crowns, the purple-stained cards,
The Brigadiers concealed in Burberries,
And render all those pomps and dignities
Which are, of course, the _raison d'etre_ of guards.

"With what avail? for never a guard is mounted
That does not do some wild abhorrent thing,
Only in hushed low tones to be recounted,
Lest haply hints of it should reach the KING--
Dark ugly tales of sentinels who drank,
Or lost their prisoners while imbibing tea,
Or took great pains to make their minds a blank
Whene'er approached by gentlemen of rank,
And, when reproved, presented arms to me!

"There is no potentate in France or Flanders
You will not heap with insult if you can.
For lo! a car. It is the Corps Commander's;
The sentries take no notice of the man,
Or fix him with a not unkindly stare,
And slap their butts in an engaging way,
Or else, too late, in penitent despair
Cry, 'Guard, turn out!' and there is no guard there,
But they are in _The Blue Estaminet_.

"Weary I am of worrying and warning;
For all my toil I get it in the neck;
I am f