But it took him some time to get into my ways. Once we spent twenty minutes on a small stretch of road leading from the parade ground to a railway bridge. I wanted to cross the bridge and Frank did not. I took him towards the bridge and he took me back towards the camp. This happened thirteen times. At the fourteenth there was a variation; he changed his mind and we crossed the bridge. During the twenty minutes, I remember, we had a further slight disagreement about a stick. I was glad I had brought it, and he was not. But on the other side of the bridge we let bygones be bygones. Frank had his moods, but he was always a gentleman. He was also a soldier. His strong point really was that he was excellent on parade. He would look round, grasp the formation at a glance, and drop into his place. He was never more happy than when route-marching; never more unhappy than when compelled to break out of the line. Indeed, so much did he enjoy column of route that when off duty with two or three other horses he would play at route-marching, taking up a position in Indian file and avoiding any sort of arrangement which brought him abreast of his companions. At last we had to part. I don't know the right way to express this. Possibly I was reissued without him; I am not sure what the process was. At any rate we separated, he remaining at the camp and I proceeding on duty to the Depot. I said good-bye to him and he nuzzled for the last time at my side pocket. Having munched the sugar, he turned to the more serious business of his manger. I think this must have been his way of concealing his emotion. * * * * * RAG-TIME IN THE TRENCHES. Roll up, rally up! Stroll up, sally up! Take a tupp'ny ticket out, and help to tote the tally up! Come and see the Raggers in their "Mud and Slush" revoo. (Haven't got no money? Well, a cigarette'll do). Come and hear O'Leary in his great tin-whistle stunt; See our beauty chorus with the Sergeant in the front; Come and hear our gaggers In their "Lonely Tommy" song; Come and see the Raggers, We're the bongest of the bong. Roll up, rally up! Stroll up, sally up! Show is just commencing and we've got to ring the ballet up. Hear our swell orchestra keeping all the fun alive, Tooting on his whistle while they dance the Dug-out Dive. Come and see Spud Murphy with his double-ration smile, ('Tisn't much for beauty, but it's PHYLLIS DARE for style); Come and see our _scena_, "How the section got C.B.;" Bring a concertina And we'll let you come in free.