his postcard must have been a descendant
of Sydney Smith. You remember that great man's criticism of the Books
of Euclid? He preferred the Second Book, on the ground that it was
more "impassioned" than the others!)

All the sender of this impassioned missive has to do is to delete such
clauses as strike him as untruthful or over-demonstrative, and sign
his name. He is not allowed to add any comments of his own. On this
occasion, however, one indignant gentleman has pencilled the ironical
phrase, "I don't think!" opposite the line which acknowledges the
receipt of a parcel. Bobby lays this aside, to be returned to the
sender.

Then come some French picture post-cards. Most of these present
soldiers--soldiers posing, soldiers exchanging international
handgrips, soldiers grouped round a massive and _decolletee_ lady in
flowing robes, and declaring that _La patrie sera libre!_ Underneath
this last, Private Ogg has written: "Dear Lizzie,--I hope this finds
you well as it leaves me so. I send you a French p.c. The writing
means long live the Queen of France."

The next heap consists of letters in official-looking green envelopes.
These are already sealed up, and the sender has signed the following
attestation, printed on the flap: _I certify on my honour that the
contents of this envelope refer to nothing but private and family
matters._ Setting aside a rather bulky epistle addressed to The Editor
of a popular London weekly, which advertises a circulation of over a
million copies--a singularly unsuitable recipient for correspondence
of a private and family nature--Bobby turns to the third heap, and
sets to work upon his daily task of detecting items of information,
"which if intercepted or published might prove of value to the enemy."

It is not a pleasant task to pry into another person's correspondence,
but Bobby's scruples are considerably abated by the consciousness that
on this occasion he is doing so with the writer's full knowledge.
Consequently it is a clear case of _caveat scriptor_. Not that Bobby's
flock show any embarrassment at the prospect of his scrutiny. Most of
them write with the utmost frankness, whether they are conducting a
love affair, or are involved in a domestic broil of the most personal
nature. In fact, they seem rather to enjoy having an official
audience. Others cheerfully avail themselves of this opportunity of
conveying advice or reproof to those above them, by means of what the
Royal Artil