A Cockney private was posted to keep souvenir hunters from tampering with it. When he received his dinner he sat straddle-legged on the shell, admired by a few French children, whom he proceeded to address as follows: "Ally! Toot sweet, or you'll get blown to 'ell if this blinkin' shell goes orf."--_E. P. Ferguson, "Brecon," Fellows Road, S. Farnborough, Hants._ Luckier than the Prince In the autumn of 1916, while attending to the loading of ammunition at Minden Post, a driver suddenly exclaimed, "'Struth, Quarter; who's the boy officer with all the ribbons up?" Glancing up, I recognised the Prince of Wales, quite unattended, pushing a bicycle through the mud. When I told the driver who the officer really was, the reply came quickly: "Blimey, I'm better off than he is; they _have_ given me a horse to ride."--_H. J. Adams (ex.--B.Q.M.S., R.F.A.), Highclare, Station Road, Hayes, Middlesex._ A Jerry he _Couldn't_ Kill During a patrol in No Man's Land at Flesquières we were between a German patrol and their front line, but eventually we were able to get back. I went to our Lewis gun post and told them Jerry had a patrol out. I was told: "One German came dahn 'ere last night--full marchin' order." "Didn't you ask him in?" I said. "No. Told him to get out of it. You can't put a Lewis gun on one man going on leave," was the reply.--_C. G. Welch, 109 Sayer Street, S.E.17._ "Q" for Quinine In the autumn of 1917, on the Salonika front, we were very often short of bread, sugar, etc., the reason, we were told by the Quartermaster-Sergeant, being that the boats were continually sunk. At this time the "quinine parade" was strictly enforced, because of malaria, which was very prevalent. One day we were lined up for our daily dose, which was a very strong and unpleasant one, when one of our drivers, a bit of a wag, was heard to say to the M.O.: "Blimey! the bread boat goes dahn, the beef boat goes dahn, the rum and sugar boat goes dahn, but the perishin' quinine boat always gets 'ere."--_R. Ore (100 Brigade, R.F.A.), 40 Lansdowne Road, Tottenham, N.17._ Blinkin' Descendant of Nebuchadnezzar While stationed at Pozières in 1917 I was mate to our Cockney cook, who, according to Army standards, was something of an expert in the culinary art. One day a brass hat from H.Q., who was visiting the unit, entered the mess to inquire about the food served to the troops. "They 'as stew, roast, or boiled, wiv spuds and pudden to follow," said cook, bursting with pride. "Do you give them any vegetables?" asked the officer. "No, sir, there ain't none issued in the rations." "No vegetables! What do you mean?--there are tons growing about here waiting to be picked. Look at all those dandelions--they make splendid greens. See that some are put in the stew to-morrow." With which illuminating information he retired. Followed a few moments' dead silence. Then the Cockney recovered from the shock.