The Greek didn't understand, of course, but Sid had him down. He seemed to be trying to remonstrate with Sid, but Sid wasn't "'avin' no excuses of that sort," and proceeded to reverse the order of things. He wanted "Ma" to "'op up an' 'ave a ride," but the timid woman declined. Her burden, however, was transferred to the man's back, and after surveying him in an O.C. manner, Sid said: "Nah, pass on, an' don't let it 'appen again!"--_H. T. Coad (late R.M.L.I.), 30 Moat Place, Stockwell, S.W.9._ The Chef Drops a Brick At a prisoners of war camp, in Havre, it was my duty to make a daily inspection of the compound within the barbed wire, and also the officers' quarters. In charge of the officers' mess was a little Cockney corporal, but practically all the cooking and other work was done by German prisoners. We had just put on trial a new cook, a German, who had told us that he had been a chef before the war at one of the big London hotels. I was making my usual inspection with my S. M., and when we came to the officers' mess he bawled out "'Shun! Officer's inspection, any complaints?" The new German cook apparently did not think that this applied to him, and, wanting to create a good impression, he strolled across to me in the best _maître d'hôtel_ style, and exclaimed, "Goot mornung, sir. I tink ve are go'n to haf som rain." [Illustration: "'Ow long 'ave you bin a partner in the firm?"] Our little corporal appeared astounded at this lack of respect, and, going over to the German, he said in a loud voice: "Put thet knife dahn, an' stand to attention. Ve'r gorn to 'ave some rine, indeed!" And then, in a louder voice, "_Ve_ are. 'Ow long 'ave _you_ bin a partner in the firm?"--_Lieut. Edwin J. Barratt (Ex-"Queens" R.W. Surrey Regt.), 8 Elborough Street, Southfields, S.W.18._ His "Read" Letter Day At Sorrel le Grand, which our division had just taken in 1917, we took up a good position for our machine gun in a small dug-out. I was cleaning my revolver on one of the steps, and it accidentally went off. To my surprise and horror the bullet struck one of my comrades (who was in a sitting position) in the centre of his steel helmet, creating a huge dent. His remark was: "Lummy, it was a jolly good job I was reading one of my girl's letters," and then continued reading.--_Robt. Fisher (late Corpl., M.G.C.), 15 Mayesbrook Road, Goodmayes, Essex._ Dan, the Dandy Detective Jerry's front line trench and ours were not three hundred yards apart. Over that sinister strip of ground attack and counter-attack had surged and ebbed in a darkness often turned to day by Verey lights and star-shells. Brave men on each side had reached their objective, but "fell Sergeant Death" often took charge. In our sector was a 1914 "Contemptible," who, despite mud and adverse conditions, made his New Army comrades smile at his barrack-room efforts to keep his uniform and equipment just so.