And yet I want to be a man
Because so much I want to do;
I want to buy fine things for you,
And be a soldier, if I can.

* * * * *

When I'm a man I will not let
Poor little children starve, or be
Ill-used, or stand and beg of me
With naked feet out in the wet.

* * * * *

Now, don't you laugh!--The father kissed
The little serious mouth and said
"You've almost made me cry instead,
You blessed little optimist."

XIV

September 21st, 1916.

My Very Dear M.:

I am wearing your talisman while I write and have a strong superstition
in its efficacy. The efficacy of your socks is also very noticeable--I
wore them the first time on a trip to the Forward Observation Station. I
had to lie on my tummy in the mud, my nose just showing above the
parapet, for the best part of twenty-four hours. Your socks little
thought I would take them into such horrid places when you made them.

Last night both the King and Sir Sam sent us congratulations--I popped
in just at the right time. I daresay you know far more about our doings
than I do. Only this morning I picked up the _London Times_ and read a
full account of everything I have witnessed. The account is likely to be
still fuller in the New York papers.

"Home for Christmas"--that's what the Tommies are promising their
mothers and sweethearts in all their letters that I censor. Yesterday I
was offered an Imperial commission in the army of occupation. But home
for Christmas, will be Christmas, 1917--I can't think that it will be
earlier.
Very much love,
CON.

XV

Sunday, September 24th, 1916.

DEAREST MOTHER:

Your locket has just reached me, and I have strung it round my neck with
M.'s cross. Was it M.'s cross the other night that accounted for my
luck? I was in a gun-pit when a shell landed, killing a man only a foot
away from me and wounding three others--I and the sergeant were the only
two to get out all right. Men who have been out here some time have a
dozen stories of similar near squeaks. And talking of squeaks, it was a
mouse that saved one man. It kept him awake to such an extent that he
determined to move to another place. Just as he got outside the dug-out
a shell fell on the roof.

You'll be pleased to know that we have a ripping chaplain or Padre, as
they call