ding it all up from jottings on an old
envelope! What's that piece of paper you took out of the typed copy?"

"Oh, that's nothing to do with the literary side of it," I said,
crumpling up the little memorandum, which said that the Editor
presented compliments and regretted that he was unable to make
use of the enclosed contribution.

* * * * *

"Mr. Henderson ... was received with a cry of 'He is not on the
map now.'"--_Times_.

It is supposed that his supporter meant to say "not on the mat"--in
reference to an incident at the close of Mr. HENDERSON'S Ministerial
career. But many a true word is said in the Press by inadvertence.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE WAR AGAINST THE PUBLIC.

PROFITEERING HEN. "NOTHING DOING AT FIVEPENCE. BUT I MIGHT PERHAPS LAY
YOU ONE FOR NINEPENCE. WHAT! YOU THOUGHT THE WAR WAS OVER? NOT _MY_
WAR."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Dear Old Lady (to returning warrior)_. "WELCOME BACK
TO BLIMEY!"]

* * * * *

A DEMOBILISATION DISASTER.

Private Randle Janvers Binderbeck and Private John Hodge (of No. 12
Platoon) both enlisted in 1914. Previously Handle wrote articles,
mostly denunciatory. He denounced the Government of the day, tight
skirts, Christian Science, scorching on scooters, the foreign policy
of Patagonia and many other things. John, on the other hand, had not
an agile brain. He worked on a farm in some incredibly primitive
capacity, and the only thing that he denounced was the quality of
the beer at the "Waggon and Horses." It certainly was bad.

In the Army Randle had no ambition except to get out of it and to
remain a private while in it. His ambition for his civil career was
tremendous. He tried to prod the placid John (his neighbour in their
hut) into an equal ambition.

"My poor Hodge," said Randle to John, "you must cultivate a soul above
manure. Does it satisfy you, as a man made in the image of God, to be
able to distinguish between a mangold and a swede? Think of the glory
of literature, the power of the writer to send forth his burning words
to millions and sway public opinion as the west wind sways the pliant
willow."

"I dunno as I'd prefer that to bird-scaring or suchlike," murmured
John.

Goaded by such beast-like placidity, Randle would forget all restraint
in trying to lash John into a worthy ambition.

It was for talki