Young man, a little year ago At Osborne (where the admirals grow) I saw you fall on a mimic foe With tackle and shove and thrust. There by the jolly trim canteen, Where the figure-head flaunts her golden sheen, You fought, or cheered, for your Term fifteen, As a fellow of mettle must ... Yet now those deeds seem mighty small You dared in the chase for a leather ball-- Now that you trip On His Majesty's Ship Playing the finest game of all! A year ago, a naval fight Was a tantalising dim delight That fed your dreams on a Wednesday night, When History prep. was through. Yet yours was a Destiny strong and clear That ever, unknown, was stalking near; And now in a flash, it's here, it's here-- Now are your dreams come true!... There are grey old admirals in our land Who never have stood where now you stand, Here on your feet In His Majesty's Fleet-- _With a real live enemy hard at hand!_ * * * * * Britannia to the French Generalissimo:-- "A l'honore do nos deux nations J'offre--cent mille felicitations!" * * * * * Illustration: THE EGOIST. _Warlike Mistress._ "DON'T YOU THINK, JAMES, YOU WOULD LIKE TO JOIN LORD KITCHENER'S ARMY?" _Peaceful Footman._ "THANK YOU, MUM, BUT I DON'T SEE AS 'OW I'D BE BETTERING MYSELF. WAR'S FOR THEM AS LIKES IT, WHICH I NEVER DID." * * * * * DOUBT. The War has caused one thing (among others). It has filled me with an infinite distrust of human testimony. Were I on a jury I should find every one "Not guilty" now--unless, of course, the prisoner were foolish enough to bring evidence on his own behalf. It is not the German Press Bureau that has done this. It has maintained its customary high standard with magnificent consistency. My faith in human testimony has been shattered by Mactavish's uncle, Bloomer's maiden aunt, and Wiggins' brother-in-law. I put on one side the statement of Mirfin's grandmother because her allegation that 193 trains passed her house one night might have been based on the shunting of a single goods train. One knows the fiendish persistency of the shunted goods train at night. But let me take the bald statement of Mactavish's uncle. He is a baillie, an elder and a drysalter. He wrote to Mactavish:--"I regret that the attendance at the Kirk on Sunday was most unsatisfactory. The younger members of the congregation were all watching the disembarcation of the Cossacks. I understand that the Established Kirk held no services at all. I did not feel it consistent with a proper observance of the Sabbath to go and watch them myself, so I only saw by chance, and not intentionally, the six regiments which marched past my house." What could be more conclusive than that? The very next day Bloomer met me and produced a much-crossed letter from his pocket. "Just read the last few lines," he said triumphantly. I read with zest.