Private John Mackay was pondering over the common problem of “raising the wind.” He was absolutely stony, hadn’t even the money to buy himself a packet of “fags.” But as he pondered an idea of striking originality took shape, which so delighted him with its simplicity that he immediately put it into practice. Entering a hut, which, along with hundreds of others, Kitchener has caused to be built to protect the soldiers from the changes of weather, he called to attention the party of new recruits. “Gentlemen,” he began, as he produced a highly-polished silver watch, “I have here a watch to sell. I already have a wristlet watch”—here he used the conventional lie—“so there is no use keeping this one. Now, what do you offer for it?” The question was addressed to no one in particular. Save for cries of “a halfpenny” and “threepence,” no one appeared to be interested. But Mac wasn’t downhearted. Advancing farther into the hut, he held up his hand. “We’ll raffle it, then,” he suggested, still feigning that he believed he would get a purchaser. “Here is a pack of cards.” The cards were handed over, shuffled, and with the actions of an expert card player, a recruit deposited a card in front of each of the assembled men. “Now, each man back his card, threepence all round, and the watch goes to the highest card.” This was done with remarkable speed, the recruits had pocket-money in plenty, and the schemer now gathered in his shekels. The cards were then turned, and the fellow who had managed to win rushed off to his corner, exultantly bearing his prize. Mac departed. Half an hour later Mac quietly slipped into the recruits’ hut, and going over to the man who had captured the watch, whispered: “The man I got the watch from is wanting it. I’ll very likely get into a scrape if I don’t get it. I’ll give you a shilling for it.” The recruit quickly jumped to the conclusion that Mac had stolen the watch, and not wishing to be connected in any way with stolen property, promptly handed it back. As Mac went off with his watch to his own hut he muttered: “That’s raised the wind, anyway.” EXCUSE FOR POOR SHOOTING The other day some Scottish Territorials were at the rifle butts. One of the men, a tailor by trade, was making exceedingly bad practice, and missing the target every shot. At length the officer in command became angry, and inquired gruffly: “Can you not see the target, sir? Surely you, as a tailor, must thread your own needle!” “Oh, aye, I can see the target,” replied the Terrier, calmly, “an’ I can thread a needle as well; but wha the mischief ever tried to thread a needle at twa hunder yairds?” CORRECT; GO TO THE HEAD The schoolmaster wanted to know whether the boys had an understanding of the functions of a British Consulate.