When noses first were carved for men Of varied width and height, Strange smells and sweet were fashioned then That all might know delight-- Smells for the hooked, the snub, the fine, The pug, the gross, the small, A smell for each, and one divine Last smell to soothe them all. The baccy smell, the smell of peat, The rough gruff smell of tweed, The rain smell on a dusty street Are all good smells indeed; The sea smell smelt through resinous trees, The smell of burning wood, The saintly smell of dairies--these Are all rich smells and good. And good the smell the nose receives From new-baked loaves, from hops, From churches, from decaying leaves, From pinks, from grocers' shops; And smells of rare and fine bouquet Proceed, the world allows, From petrol, roses, cellars, hay, Scrubbed planks, hot gin and cows. But there's a smell that doth excel All other smells by far, Even the tawny stable smell Or the boisterous smell of tar; A smell stupendous, past compare, The king of smells, the prize, That smell which floods the startled air When home-cured bacon fries! All other smells, whate'er their worth, Though dear and richly prized, Are earthy smells and of the earth, Are smells disparadised; But when that smell of smells awakes From ham of perfect cure, It lifts the heart to heaven and makes The doom of Satan sure. How good to sit at twilight's close In a warm inn and feel That marvellous smell caress the nose With promise of a meal! How good when bell for breakfast rings To pause, while tripping down, And snuff and snuff till Fancy brings All Arcady to Town! But best, when day's first glimmerings break Through curtains half withdrawn, To lie and smell it, scarce awake, In some great farm at dawn; Cocks crow, the milkmaid clanks the pails, The housemaid bangs the stairs; And BACON suddenly assails The nostrils unawares. Noses of varied width and height Doth kindly Heaven bestow, And choice of smells for our delight, That all some joy may know; Noses and smells for all the race That on this earth do dwell, And for a final act of grace The astounding bacon smell. But the War has its drawbacks, and owing to its unexpected prolongation there is a rumour that Mr. H.G. Wells will readjust his ideas on the subject quarterly instead of twice a week as before. _July, 1918._ "France's Day" was held on July 14 under the auspices of the British Red Cross Committee. But this has been France's month, the month in which the miracle of the first battle of the Marne has been equalled by the second, and the Germans have been hurled back across the fatal river by the tremendous counterstroke of General Foch. [Illustration: HUN TO HUN