He trampled on the Polish border; He cried that Russia was the foe; The German Press received the order And answered meekly, "That is so;" But when King WILLIAM met the Tartar His soul sustained another wrench, He found the Slavs were even smarter At entertainments than the French. They gave him such a royal greeting With Cossack horsemen making curves That WILLIAM asked them, on retreating, To try his Prussian game preserves; "Duke NICHOLAS is not the canker," He told his German scribblers then; "His treatment has disarmed my rancour" (It certainly disarmed his men). "Out yonder in the circling billows There lies the object of my scorn, We hate these English armadilloes, We wish they never had been born; Their name to us is rank and fetid, And on their sins our rage is fed;" And all the German Press repeated Precisely what the KAISER said. Eh well. That water is a worry! And doubtless, if the iron glove Should meet us here in Kent or Surrey, Its clasp might soften into love; We might despatch him with a grey grin, And all the German Scribes would vow "Our bugbear is the Montenegrin; We do not hate the English now." But better still to cool his dudgeon Where week by week our nobler sons Have proved Britannia's no curmudgeon By salvoes of applauding guns; To save him toil without his landing, To meet him with more warm advance, And help to share that "understanding" He has with Russia and with France. EVOE. * * * * * THE LAST LINE. IV. We progress. The days when the whole art of war consisted of "On the left, form platoons.... On the _left_, blanket," are over. Skirmishing, signalling, musketry, Swedish drill--a variety of entertainment is now open to us; there is even a class for buglers. To give you an idea of the Corps at work, I offer you a picture of James and myself semaphoring to each other. James is in the middle distance, a couple of flags draped over his person. I am going to send him a message. I signal to him that I am about to begin; he waves back that he is ready. Now then.... My mind becomes a complete blank. I find that I have absolutely nothing to say to James. "Go on," says my instructor. "Yes, but what?" I ask. All desire to interchange thought with James has left me. "Anything. Ask him, if a herring and a half costs three ha'pence, how much----" "Yes, but that's too long. It would take me at least a week, and by that time the herring would be censored. No, I've got it." It has occurred to me suddenly that it would annoy James if I reminded him of his professional life. He looks so military in his puttees and khaki shirt. "_Do--you--want--a--nice--mortgage?_" I signal.