An Army officer’s wife wrote to a Royal Army medical corps officer saying her child was suffering during teething; she addressed the letter “Dr. Brown.” The recipient returned it with the remark that he should be addressed “Brigade-Surgeon Lieutenant-Colonel Brown.” Whereupon the lady wrote back:— “Dear Brigade-Surgeon Lieutenant-Colonel Brown—I am sorry about mistake.—Yours, May Jones. “P. S.-Please bring your sword to lance baby’s gums.” OR A SCRAP OF PAPER “I suppose you had a good deal of trouble when you spent your holiday in Germany this summer?” said Mrs. De Jinks. “Yes,” said Mrs. Von Slammerton; “chiefly in the matter of getting money, however. Why, would you believe it, Mrs. De Jinks, a letter of credit over there wasn’t of any more value than a treaty of neutrality?” NOT TO BE OUTDONE An Irishman who had recently joined Lord Kitchener’s Army was sitting in a railway refreshment room the other day, when two smart young soldiers entered. Thinking to make the Irishman look small, one of them went up to the young lady attendant and asked for “A good cigar for a Hussar!” A little time afterwards the other one went up and said: “A glass of beer for a Grenadier!” Pat was not to be taken down so easily, and after a few moments’ thought went up to the bar and, in a loud voice, ordered “A good tea for a V. C.!” NEVER FAZED HIM At a recruiting meeting recently the speaker, having got his audience in a high state of enthusiasm by telling them of the many brave deeds of the British soldiers in France, suddenly espied a big, strongly built man at the back of the hall. “My man,” he cried, “how is it that you are not at the front?” “Oh, it is all right,” replied the burly yokel; “I can hear every word you say from here.” STAY-AT-HOME TOILET A South London resident, whose garden runs down to the railway line, has hit upon a novel recruiting advertisement. He has hung out two old petticoats with a poster reading: “If you won’t help your King and Country now you had better wear these.” WHY BE NEUTRAL? If you favor war, dig a trench in your back yard, fill it half full of water, crawl into it, and stay there for a day or two without anything to eat, get a lunatic to shoot at you with a brace of revolvers and a machine-gun, and you will have something just as good, and you will save your country a great deal of expense. BATHING IN TEARS “Some of the soldiers in those trenches,” said a doctor, recently back for a rest, “don’t get a chance to wash for weeks at a time. They eat like bears, they never take cold, their health is superb—but, dear me, how they look, with never a wash! “A humorist of the Coldstream Guards was singing in a second-line trench a parody of ‘Tipperary.’ It was a funny parody, and in the midst of it a young sergeant shouted to the singer:— “Yer makin’ me laugh till I cry, Bill! Won’t yer stop it? The tears are makin’ me face all muddy.’” WHERE HE COULDN’T GO