The Q.M.S., who was wearing a big white "solar topi" of the mushroom type instead of his regulation military helmet, was greeted outside our hut by the R.S.M., and as they solemnly shook hands a Cockney voice behind me murmured: "Doctor Livingstone, I presoom?" The picture was complete!--_Yeo Blake (1st County of London Yeomanry), Brighton._ The Veteran Scored One morning, while a famous general was travelling around the Divisional Headquarters, his eagle eye spotted an old war hero, a Londoner, whose fighting days were over, and who now belonged to the Labour Corps, busy on road repairs. The fact was also noticed that although within the gas danger-zone the old veteran had broken standing orders by not working with his gas mask in position. Accordingly the Corps Commander stopped his car and, getting out, started off in his own familiar way as follows: C. C.: Good morning, my man; do you know who is speaking to you? O. V.: No, sir! C. C.: I am your Corps Commander, Sir ----, etc. O. V.: Yes, sir. C. C.: I'm pleased to have this opportunity of talking to one of my men. O. V.: Yes, sir. C. C.: I see you are putting your back into your work. O. V.: Yes, sir. C. C.: I also notice that you have evidently left your gas mask behind. O. V.: Yes, sir. C. C.: Now supposing, my man, a heavy gas cloud was now coming down this road towards you. What would you do? O. V. (after a few moments' pause): Nothing, sir. C. C.: What! Why not, my good man? O. V.: Because the wind is the wrong way, sir. Exit C. C.--_T. J. Gough, Oxford House, 13 Dorset Square, N.W.1._ Old Moore Was Right One of my drivers, a Cockney, called one of his horses Old Moore--"'cos 'e knows every blinkin' fing like _Old Moore's Almanac_." One evening, as we were going into the line, we were halted by a staff officer and warned of gas. Orders were given at once to wear gas helmets. (A nose-bag gas-mask had just been issued for horses.) After a while I made my way to the rear of the column to see how things were. I was puffing and gasping for breath, when a cheery voice called out, "Stick it, sargint." Wondering how any man could be so cheery in such circumstances, I lifted my gas helmet, and lo! there sat my Cockney driver, with his horses' masks slung over his arm and his own on top of his head like a cap-comforter. "Why aren't you wearing your gas helmet?" I asked. He leaned over the saddle and replied, in a confidential whisper, "Old Moore chucked his orf, so there ain't no blinkin' gas abaht--_'e_ knows." We finished the rest of that journey in comfort. Old Moore had prophesied correctly.--_S. Harvey (late R.F.A.), 28 Belmont Park Road, Leyton, E.10_. He Wouldn't Insult the Mule One day, while our Field Ambulance was on the Dorian front, Salonika, our new colonel and the regimental sergeant-major were visiting the transport lines. They came across a Cockney assiduously grooming a pair of mules--rogues, both of them.