"Our treacherous foe has again escaped us. An heroic attack by the bayonet upon the Mango Grove mentioned in previous despatch was successful in capturing the position, but only in time to see the last unit of the defending force vanishing up a rope, which with a large number of others was dangling without visible attachment. The effect of this renewed failure upon the _moral_ of the Imperial army has unfortunately been considerable. I learn from my agents that the enemy is now bringing up a number of heavy hypnotists for use against me personally. Please wire instructions." (5) From the same as (2):-- "Your resignation on the ground of ill-health regretfully accepted. Return at once." * * * * * "THE SEED OF THE WAR IN UNIVERSITIES & SCHOOLS DAN GERSOFFALSEE DUCATION." _Freeman's Journal._ But why suddenly break into Flemish? * * * * * Routine order issued by the Q.M.G.'s department:-- "Fuel for general and other headquarter offices and signalling offices with the troops, is authorised at the scale of sixteen kilometres of coal per fireplace per day. Dec. 20th. B. E. F." Theirs not to reason why. If the order is "Ten miles of coal per fireplace" then ten miles it is. * * * * * [Illustration: [Transcriber Note: Written in the illustration:] HELP RED CROSS "OH, MUMMY, WHAT A LOT OF PENNIES IT WILL TAKE TO FILL THAT DOG!"] * * * * * OXYGEN EXERCISE. _SCENE.--A mud puddle in ----shire, in which are discovered forty yeomen in khaki lying on their backs and flapping their legs like seals. They are not really seals, but men whom their KING and country needs, doing breathing exercises. The reason they do not get up out of the puddle and walk away is that they would probably be killed by the enormous troop sergeant who is instructing them._ _Troop Sergeant_ (_fiercely_). Now then. Work at it. I'm 'ere to do you a bit of good, I am. Finest thing in the world, this is. Some of you fellows don't know a good thing when you see it. What is it that causes tuberckylosis? Why, want of hoxygen. That's what it is. Look at Sam Stevens--middle-weight champion of the world he was. And what did he die of? Why, drink. And what made him take to drink? Why, want of hoxygen. That's what it was. If a man can't breathe hoxygen he'll drink it. How many cells do you suppose you 'ave in your lungs, Number Three? _Number Three_ (_inhaling through the mouth_). Don't know, Sergeant. _Troop Sergeant._ Why, fifty million. Fifty million cells in your lungs you've got. [_Number Three, appalled at this revelation, inhales briskly through the nose in the hope of filling some of them._ _Troop Sergeant._ And how many do you suppose you generally use? Why, not half of them. Twenty-five million cells you've got doing nothing.