One of the British soldiers who had taken part in the game turned to a German officer, and asked what he thought of the game and the British cricketers. “Oh,” he said, “they’re very good, but we Germans can beat you on the battlefield.” “Oh, I suppose you get the most ‘runs’ there!” said the soldier. MADE IN GERMANY Chaplain (in French town near the Front)—“I have been working so hard of late that I feel rather run down. I must try a tonic.” Soldier—“Why not try a glass of lager?” Chaplain (badly shocked)—“Oh, that’s Teutonic!” WOLSELEY’S WAY One of the neatest stories of how a military officer can do the right thing without sacrifice of dignity is related of the man who afterwards became Commander-in-Chief of the British Army. He was sitting in a high-toned tap-room of Dublin, where privates were not permitted the privilege of the bar. Two finely-built men of a dragoon regiment, wearing long-service stripes, entered and called for drinks, which were curtly refused them. They turned without a word and were retiring in good order. “Halt!” came sharply from the officer in civilian’s clothes. From sheer force of habit the soldiers obeyed and faced about. “I can purchase what I want here, I suppose?” said the officer as he advanced to the bar. “Certainly, sir.” “Then serve these two gentlemen with what they want,” and there was a pleasant emphasis on the title. “Gentlemen, will you drink with me?” “With pleasure, sir,” and the happy compact was carried out. Then the dragoons courteously inquired the name of the gentleman who had thrown out the life-line, as it were. “My name is Wolseley—Colonel Wolseley,” with a smile. Two pairs of heels went together with a click, two brawny arms went up in salute, and the soldiers departed amid the applause of all who had witnessed the scene. IGNORED HIMSELF During camp parade of the buglers the other day an Irish corporal was in charge. He was asked by the C. O. if all the buglers were present, when he replied: “No, sorr; one man absent.” “Well, then,” said the C. O.; “go and find him, and ask what he has to say for himself.” A few minutes later Pat came running back, and shouted: “Shure, sorr, and weren’t we a pair of duffers not to know it? It wor meself. Bedad, sorr, Oi forgot to call me own name, entoirely, sorr!” ANOTHER ANXIETY “I have some astonishing news for you, Maria,” said Brown. “In addition to the war, England is on the eve of a great strike, in which thousands upon thousands of hands will be involved.” “What a dreadful thing!” ejaculated his unsuspecting victim. “When is it to take place?” “This very night, my dear,” answered Brown, gravely. “At midnight thousands of clock hands will point to the hour, and it will strike twelve.” ONE QUALIFICATION Visitor (leaving inn, after sleepless night): “I suppose you don’t happen to be a German?” Landlord: “Do I look like it?” Visitor: “No; but I thought I’d just ask, because my room last night had a concrete bed in it.”