The only effect of the dose upon me was to induce a rather morbid contemplation. I recalled the happy times when I was once, even as you are, a barrister who rose at 8.30 A.M. (an incredibly late hour), did next to nothing all day and, when I wanted to go away, just went. I used in those gentle days to take off my hat to ladies (a long-forgotten habit), and I never dreamed of calling anybody "Sir." I used to suppose that I should rise from stuff to silk, from silk to ermine, to conclude as a Judge on the King's Bench. It seems now that I may rise from stars to crowns, from crowns to oakleaves, and end my days as a commissionaire in--who knows?--His Majesty's _foyer_. I, who had hoped to dismiss your appeals, may come instead to hail your taxi at the theatre door; may even come to call _you_ "Sir." But for the moment I am Yours thoroughly disrespectfully, HENRY. * * * * * Illustration: THE WAR ON GERMAN COMMERCE. "We are glad to hear, Mr. Wilton, that you have volunteered for active service. We are proud to know that you are ready to do your duty as a Briton. We shall be pleased to keep your place open for you during your absence. And, Mr. Wilton, you might take a few thousand of our circulars in your knapsack to be distributed among the enemy in the regrettable event of your being taken prisoner." * * * * * Illustration: RURAL LIFE UNDER WAR CONDITIONS. OUR VILLAGE ERRAND-BOY. * * * * * THE TRAITOR. "Down with the Teutons!" rose the people's cry; "Who said that England's honour was for sale?" Myself, I hunted out the local spy, Tore down his pole and cast him into jail. "An English barber now," said I, "or none! This thatch shall never fall before a Hun!" And all was well until that fateful morn When, truss'd for shearing in a stranger's shop, "Be careful, please," I said, "I want it shorn Close round the ears, but leave it long on top;" And, thrilling with a pleasant pride of race, I watched the fellow's homely British face. An optimist he was. "Those German brutes, They'll get wot for. You mark my words," he said, And dragged great chunks of hair out by the roots, Forgetting mine was not a German head. "Oh, yes, they'll get it in the neck," said he And gaily emphasized his prophecy. Ah me, that ruthless Britisher! He scored His parallel entrenchments round and round My quivering scalp. "Invade us 'ere?" he roared; "Not bloomin' likely! Not on British ground!" His nimble scissors left a row of scars To point the prowess of our gallant Tars. I bore it without movement, save a start Induc'd by one shrewd gash behind the ear. With silent fortitude I watch'd him part The ruin on my skull. And then a tear, A fat, round tear, well'd up from either eye-- O traitorous tribute to the local spy!