As for the men, they have been dealt with by a select body under the formidable title of the Christmas Festivities Committee. It has provided each man with a little beer, a lot of turkey and much too much plum pudding. Having disengaged the birds into their separate units, it has then left the man to himself for the day, thus showing, in my opinion, a wise discretion rarely found in committees, even military committees. Yours ever, HENRY. * * * * * [Illustration: _Visitor._ "COULD YOU TELL ME WHAT TIME THE TIDE IS UP?" _Odd job man._ "WELL, SIR, THEY DO EXPECK 'IGH WATER AT SIX; BUT THEN YOU KNOW WOT THESE 'ERE RUMOURS ARE NOWADAYS."] * * * * * "Exchange, charming country parish, North Yorks. Easy distance sea. Income safe."--_Advt. in "Guardian."_ Yes, but what about the rectory? * * * * * [Illustration: GREAT EXPECTATIONS. HOW MABEL PICTURED HER BIG BROTHER'S ARRIVAL FOR WEEK-END LEAVE FROM THE FRONT.] * * * * * THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. I rode into Pincher River on an August afternoon, The pinto's hoofs on the prairie drumming a drowsy tune, By the shacks and the Chinks' truck-gardens to the Athabasca saloon. And a bunch of the boys was standing around by the old Scotch store, Standing and spitting and swearing by old Macallister's door-- And the name on their lips was Britain--the word that they spoke was War. War!... Do you think I waited to talk about wrong or right When I knew my own old country was up to the neck in a fight? I said, "So long!"--and I beat it--"I'm hitting the trail to-night." I wasn't long at my packing. I hadn't much time to dress, And the cash I had at disposal was a ten-spot--more or less; So I didn't wait for my ticket; I booked by the Hoboes' Express. I rode the bumpers at night-time; I beat the ties in the day; Stealing a ride and bumming a ride all of the blooming way, And--I left the First Contingent drilling at Valcartier! I didn't cross in a liner (I hadn't my passage by me!); I spotted a Liverpool cargo tramp, smelly and greasy and grimy, And they wanted hands for the voyage, and the old man guessed he'd try me. She kicked like a ballet-dancer or a range-bred bronco mare; She rolled till her engines rattled; she wallowed, but what did I care? It was "Go it, my bucking beauty, if only you take me there!" Then came an autumn morning, grey-blue, windy and clear, And the fields--the little white houses--green and peaceful and dear, And the heart inside of me saying, "Take me, Mother, I'm here! "Here, for I thought you'd want me; I've brought you all that I own-- A lean long lump of a carcass that's mostly muscle and bone, Six-foot-two in my stockings--weigh-in at fourteen stone.