The private in perfect good faith went up to a house door and was answered by a Frenchwoman, who did not understand one word of English, and the following conversation occurred: Private—“Bon soir.” Frenchwoman—“Bon soir, monsieur.” Private—“Yes, bon soir.” Frenchwoman—“Bon soir, monsieur.” Private—“Yes, yes! Some bon soirs, please.” Thomas Atkins, seeing the look of amazement on the good Frenchwoman’s face, and seeing a potato lying in the roadway, thought he had better adopt different tactics, so, picking up the potato and showing it to the woman, said: “Here, missus, give us some of these blooming spuds!” ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR The “Tommy” on leave from the front had been given a free railway pass to take him home to see his people, and he utilized part of his brief holiday to get married. On the return journey, when the ticket-inspector asked to see his pass, he produced by accident his marriage lines. The inspector handed the paper back with a glimmer of a smile. “This is a ticket for a very long and wearisome journey, young man,” he said, “but not on this line.” AND THE TOOTUNS, TOO First Native—“We’re doin’ fine at the war, Jarge.” Second Native—“Yes, Jahn; and so be they Frenchies.” First Native—“Aye; an’ so be they Belgians an’ Italyuns an’ Rooshians.” Second Native—“Aye; an’ so be they Allys. Oi dunno where they come from, Jahn, but they be perfect fiends for fightin’.” WAR BRIDE RETORTS Soldier’s Unmarried Wife (who has been living with her man for eleven years, to charming and aristocratic widow, the local representative of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Families’ Association)—“Well, ma’am, I am going to be married next week, and I want you to come to the wedding. You’ve been so kind it would not be right without you.” Fair Widow—“I shall be delighted to come, Mrs. Brown. What day is it?” Mrs. Brown—“On Thursday, ma’am.” Fair Widow—“That is very unfortunate. I am afraid I cannot go, as I have another important engagement.” Mrs. Brown—“Is it very important, ma’am? Can’t you put it off?” Fair Widow—“Well, the truth is, I am going to be married myself.” Mrs. Brown—“Ah, I quite understand. It doesn’t do to miss the chance of getting righted when you gets the opportunity, does it now, ma’am?” TO A CIGARETTE—IN THE TRENCHES I’m up to my knees in cold water, There’s “Zeps” droppin’ bombs from the sky, But I don’t care a jot for the whole bloomin’ lot; I’ve got you—and my matches are dry! * * * * * A right guid frien’ ye are tae me, Ye gie me strength an’ vigor. A comforter ye are. But, oh! If only ye’d been bigger! * * * * * I’m a bloomin’ modest ’ero ’oo the boys say never swanks, And I’ve never told my story to reporters, But I’ll be a bloomin’ Kiplin’ if they like, by way of thanks, For the blessed cigarette the post’s just brought us. * * * * *