Major laughed a laugh such as HINDENBURG himself might have delivered. It was cold and mirthless and must have hurt his face. "Come," said Colonel sharply, "let's have no more of this humbug. Drink and smoke less and keep yourself fit; and don't come whining before us, complaining of this and that. A few route marches will soon set you up." "But, seriously," I objected, "my health is not of the best and I feel I ought to warn you that there are slight disabilities in my constitution which----" "Which make you," interjected Major, "of course unfit to do your duty." His voice was like steel wire and I hated him. "Very well, then," I answered calmly, "I will say no more." "You'd better not," roared Colonel. "It's no use your thinking you can impose on us. I've marked you down A1. I'm sick to death of you fellows who try to get behind a doctor directly your comfort is threatened. That disposes of _your_ case. About--turn!" Mechanically I left their presence.... I don't know what the Insurance Company will make of it when they find all their candidates passed as first-class lives. Somebody ought to tell these doctors that the War is over. * * * * * ANOTHER POST-OFFICE HOLD-UP. Our post-office is to be found taking cover in one corner of the village's general shop. Poetically it may be described as between the lard and the lingerie. In prose the most interesting thing to be said of it is that I was there this morning. It was while I was buying a box of matches that the thought came to me that I might as well enjoy myself thoroughly and have some stamps as well. There was quite a crowd in the shop at the time, and we both moved to the postal counter together. She, however, got in the first word. "One stamp, please," she demanded, and went on, "You'll never guess what I want it for." "Isn't it for a letter, then?" asked the post-mistress, as if, for instance, stamps might be used for holding down the butter while the bread is rubbed against it. "Yes, but who to? That's the point. Our George!" To me there did not seem much in this to cause a sensation, but it did. Question and answer flew backwards and forwards as thick as reminiscences at a regimental dinner. "Not young George?" "Yes, old George. We had a letter from him last week. First we'd heard for six years." "Lordy, lordy," said the post-mistress, "it only seems yesterday that he went away. I remember----" and she proved it by doing so for ten minutes with a volubility that would have made the fortune of a patter comedian. At the first sign of a pause I found the courage to ask for my stamps, but quite in vain. The conversation was only getting its second wind. "Young George, to be sure! And how is he? Tell me all about him."