"Lumme, mate, what did 'e say? Dandelions? 'E must be a blinkin' descendant of Nebuchadnezzar!"--_R. J. Tiney (late Sapper, R.E. Signals, 10th Corps), 327 Green Lanes, Finsbury Park, N._ Well-Cut Tailoring Back from a spell behind Ypres in 1915, a few of us decided to scrounge round for a hair-cut. We found a shop which we thought was a barber's, but it turned out to be a tailor's. We found out afterwards! [Illustration: "My old girl will swear I bin in fer a stretch...."] Still, the old Frenchman made a good job of it--just as though someone had shaved our heads. My Cockney pal, when he discovered the truth, exclaimed: "Strike, if I go 'ome like this my old girl will swear I bin in fer a stretch."--_F. G. Webb (late Corpl., Middlesex Regiment), 38 Andover Road, Twickenham._ Evacuating "Darby and Joan" Things were going badly with the town of Albert, and all day the inhabitants had been streaming from the town. On horse, on foot, and in all manner of conveyances they hastened onwards.... Towards evening, when the bombardment was at its height and the roads were being plastered with shells, an old man tottered into sight pulling a crazy four-wheeled cart in which, perched amidst a pile of household goods, sat a tiny, withered lady of considerable age. As the couple reached the point where I was standing, the old man's strength gave out and he collapsed between the shafts. It seemed all up with them, as the guns were already registering on the only exit from the town when, thundering round a bend in the road, came a transport limber with driver and spare man. On seeing the plight of the old people, the driver pulled up, dismounted and, together with his partner, surveyed the situation. "What are we going to do with Darby and Joan?" asked the driver. "We can't get them and all their clobber in the limber and, if I know 'em, they won't be parted from their belongings." "'Ook 'em on the back," replied the spare man. Sure enough, the old man was lifted into the limber and the old lady's four-wheeler tied on the back. Off they went at the gallop, the old lady's conveyance dragging like a canoe in the wake of the _Mauretania_. The heroic Cockney driver, forcing his team through the din and debris of the bombardment, was now oblivious to the wails of distress; his mind was back on his duty; he had given the old people a chance of living a little longer--that was all he could do: and so he turned a deaf ear to the squeals and lamentations that each fresh jolt and swerve wrung from the terrified antiquity he was towing. Shells dropped all around them on their career through the town until it seemed that they must "go under." However, they appeared again and again, after each cloud cleared, and in the end I saw the little cavalcade out of the town and danger.--_N. E. Crawshaw (late 15th London Regt.), 4 Mapleton Road, Southfields, S.W.18._ "Why ain't the Band Playing?"