Now I do not claim for Charles that he is any braver or has a finer sense of duty than many another French soldier; but this I know, that when he recovered he was summoned to the Invalides to receive not only the _Croix de Guerre_ but the _Medaille Militaire_ with the palm, which corresponds to our Victoria Cross, and that now, although, having left the Army, he no longer wears uniform but merely such poor civilian clothes as he can afford as a messenger, when he walks along the Boulevards--which he does as seldom as he can, so shy is he--there is not an officer, seeing the ribbons on his coat, who does not salute this little plumber with as much punctilio as though he were General JOFFRE himself; and, blushing crimson, Charles returns the salute. * * * * * [Illustration: _Patriotic Scots Lady_ (_patrolling Victoria main-line station to assist any of her stranded countrymen arriving from the Front_). "Can I help you in any way?" _Perplexed Scot._ "Thank you, Mam. Is the toon far frae the station?"] * * * * * "Mrs. Humphry Ward seems to have gone for inspiration to contemporary characters, and now in 'Tasker Jevons' it is difficult not to find the lineaments of a well-known writer." _Evening Standard._ Quite so: and Miss MAY SINCLAIR made _A Great Success_ of it. * * * * * NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN. II.--King's Cross. King's Cross! What shall we do? His purple robe Is rent in two! Out of his crown He's torn the gems! He's thrown his sceptre Into the Thames! The Court is shaking In every shoe-- King's Cross! _What_ shall we do? _Leave him alone For a minute or two._ III.--Bishopsgate. Bishopsgate Without, Bishopsgate Within! What a clamour at the gate, O what a din! Inside and outside The Bishops bang and shout, Outside crying, "Let me in!" Inside, "Let me out." * * * * * [Illustration: "Look here, confound you! What do you mean by your 'disclosures'? There's nothing here that wasn't in the morning papers." "I'm sorry you're disappointed, Sir. At the same time I must point out to you that my connection with the paper gives me abserlootly no influence with the editorial department."] * * * * * THE ADJUTANT. In that great Room which military error Has miscalled Orderly (for it is not, But full of tumult and debate and terror, And worried writers growing rather hot, For ever floundering in seas of chits And forms and counterfoils and wrathful writs), Alone unfevered mid the storm he sits And tells them all exactly what is what.