rals helped to down the foe."
The little chap slipped off my knee
And gazed in solemn awe at me,
Stood at attention, stiff and mute,
And gave his very best salute.

* * * * *

"Prescriptions (C.P.--197/30).--The replies to your queries are as
follows:--(a) Refuse; (b) refuse; (c) refuse; (d) refuse; (e) No."--
_Pharmaceutical Journal._

We have often felt like that about prescriptions ourselves, but have never
ventured to say so.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE RECRUIT'S FAREWELL TO HIS BOWLER.]

* * * * *

JOLLYMOUSE.

In what I will particularise as the ---- area of the War zone, there is a
small village-by-a-stream where Generals stride about the narrow streets or
whirl through them in gigantic cars, and guards at every corner clank and
turn out umpty times a day. Down in the hollow the stream by the village
laughs placidly along, mocking at the Great War, but I doubt if the
Generals have much time to listen to it, for the village-by-the-stream is a
Corps Headquarters.

However the Doctor led us (which includes the War Babe and James the Acting
Adjutant) to the village-by-the-stream, where, just across the stone
bridge, he indicated on the wall of a house the legend:

RESTAURANT FOR OFFICERS.

TEA, COFFEE, CHAMPAGNE AND ALL SUCH ARTICLE IS SELL HERE.

"Tea," he said feelingly, "and there will be china cups and thin bread-and-
butter, and real milk and come along in."

It was rather a composite restaurant. There was a glassed-in balcony with
tables and chairs; and all around there were puttees, handkerchiefs,
paper-weights, inkstands, wrist-watches and electric torches. There were
loose-leaved pocket diaries of abominable ingenuity (irresistible to
Adjutants); collars and ties to clothe the neck of man, and soap to wash it
withal. Hair lotions, safety-razors, _pate de foie gras_, sponges and
writing-pads jostled each other on the shelves. Walking-sticks and bottles
of champagne lay in profusion on the floor. It was less of a restaurant
than an emporium, but the Doctor sat down contentedly and rang the bell;
and the War Babe threw out battle patrols to reconnoitre the position.

He passed unscathed through the barrage of sticks and diaries; evaded
skilfully the indirect fire of electric torches; reached his first
objective among the soap-boxes, and there met his fate.

"Doctor," he demande