In the darkest of the small hours a black form suddenly stepped up to him. “Wh-wh-who goes there?” he challenged. “Friend,” was the reply. “Advance, f-f-friend, and give the d-d-discount.” A “SHIRT-SLEEVE GENERAL” It was in South Africa that General French earned the title of the “shirt-sleeve General”—a sobriquet that conveys a subtle compliment from “Tommy’s” point of view. Actually French was often to be seen walking about in camp during his heavy marches in shirt-sleeves, writes Mr. Cecil Chisholm, in his biography of Sir John French. One afternoon a correspondent rode up to the lines, and, seeing a soldier sitting on a bundle of hay, smoking a dilapidated-looking old briar pipe, asked where the General was. “The old man is somewhere about,” coolly replied the soldier. “Well, just hold my horse while I go and search for him.” “Certainly, sir,” and the smoker rose and obediently took the bridle. “Can you tell me where the General is?” inquired the correspondent of a staff-officer farther down the line. “General French? Oh, he’s somewhere about. Why, there he is, holding that horse’s head!” And the officer pointed directly to the smoker, still tranquilly pulling at his pipe and holding the horse. Needless to say, “Uncle French” and his men hugely enjoyed the correspondent’s awakening. GRIN AND BEAR IT “This war will go on and on,” said Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney, who has given a $250,000 field hospital to the belligerents. “This war will go on and on,” she repeated, sadly, “and the side that is getting the worst of it will display the spirit of little Willie. “Little Willie’s father, as he laid on the slipper, said: “‘Willie, this hurts me more, far more, than it does you.’ “‘Then keep it up,’ said Willie, grinding his teeth. ‘Keep it up, dad. I can stand it.’” CHANCE FOR A FREE RIDE General Servant—“If you please, mum, may I have a ’oliday?” Mistress—“Why, Jane, you have had a fortnight’s holiday these last twelve months already.” Servant—“Yes, mum; but the baker tells me that the Government gents is sending generals out to France, their fares is paid by the taxes, and I thought the sea-trip would do me good, mum.” KING ALBERT—CHAUFFEUR The King of the Belgians, one of the most democratic of European monarchs, was spending some time in Switzerland in the summer when the following incident happened. At Territet the King and Queen were motoring. His Majesty was driving, and there were no attendants. The Queen went into a shop to make some purchases. The King was standing by the car reading a newspaper, when an American woman came out of the shop, jumped into the car, which she mistook for a public conveyance, and bade the monarch to drive her quickly to her hotel. “Certainly, madam,” said the King, and deposited the woman at the hotel. Accounts vary as to whether the King accepted or did not accept any fare.