The most popular letter is the letter “E” for it was the beginning and last of Eve, the beginning of Eternity, the end of Time and Space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every Race, and will always stick to Loraine, Marie and Florence to a finish. It is also the most unpopular letter for it is never in Cash, always in Debt, everlastingly in Misery, never out of Danger, and always in RENT, HELL, and NEAR-BEER! * * * * * They called the baby Ivy because she crawled all around the house. * * * * * Our War Drama While in New York City recently, a member of the Wild Cat Division, now employed in the McAlpin Hotel, related an anecdote on Paddy O’Loughlin, one of the division headquarter shuffers. It was after the armistice had been signed that Paddy made a flying trip to Paris, via his trusty flivver. Upon his return he made the following report to his buddies: “The war ain’t finished yet, be gorra, by a hekuva sight. The battle in Paris, which is going on right now, is a darn sight worse than we had with the Boche. It’s a whole lot different kind of war, but a fellow isn’t any safer on the Grand Boulevard than he was in front of a German machine gun nest. “The attack started no more than I hit Paris and it got worse every minute until I left. You bet I was lucky to come out alive. The enemy approached me as soon as I stepped out of my truck and opened fire. She swooped down on me like a thirsty Irishman pounces on a glass of suds, grabbed hold of me by the arm just like we used to nab the German prisoners and tried to carry me off. I broke away from her, but I hadn’t gone more than fifty feet before I met another detachment of the enemy. There were two of them this time. Say, talk about your camouflage! The Germans or French neither never had nothing on them. Their lips were made up like strawberries, and their eyes—oh, la! la! “They tried the same game on me and tried to carry me away, but I got away from them. When I hit the Boulevard, it was just like trying to run through a heavy barrage. They were all over, little cute one pounders and big heavy seventy-fives. They used the old German mass formation on me and when I tried to push through, it was worse than climbing over barb wire entanglements in No Man’s Land. The rate of fire got hotter every minute. I didn’t want to do it but there were too many of them and I had to holler ‘Kamerad.’” We tried to get “Paddy” to tell what happened after that, but he blushed and said that was all. * * * * * The Horse That Wins the Race