But, since the menace of "The Day" Has commandeered the Nut, Since _demi-saison_ modes display A military cut, It's up to us to do our bit Each time we take the road, For, if we wear a warlike kit, The mien must match the _mode_. What! would you set a "forage cap" Upon a drooping brow? The feet that used to mince and tap Must stride with vigour now; No longer must a plastic crouch Debilitate the knees; We've finished with the "Slinker Slouch;" Heads up, girls, if you please! * * * * * [Illustration: PEOPLE WE SHOULD LIKE TO SEE INTERNED. "YOU REALLY MUST DINE WITH US ON SATURDAY. I SHALL HAVE A COUPLE OF THE DINKIEST LITTLE WOUNDED SUBS TO SHOW YOU."] * * * * * THE SAD CASE OF SEBASTIAN PILNING. A SUMMER MEMORY. I removed my face hurriedly from a large tumbler of iced never-mind-what. "Good heavens, Henry!" I cried, "you don't mean to say you've been weeding the grass!" "It wasn't my own idea," he pleaded; "it was Sonia who put me up to it. She said that now Baby was beginning to notice things it was quite time something was done to the lawn--don't snort, we always call it the lawn at home--or he would grow up to think badly of his father. I had a shot at it yesterday, but there's a good bit more to do. Look here," he continued, brightening, "drop round to-morrow and let Sonia find you a chisel or something. It's not bad fun really. All the excitement of the chase and no danger to life or limb." "Not for worlds," I replied solemnly, "You jest at the dangers of weeding, but I have seen something of the misery it involves. Listen, I am going to tell you a story. "Once upon a time I chanced to know a man called Pilning, Sebastian Pilning. Like you, he was blessed with a young wife and the beginning of a family; like you, he was a quiet, unambitious fellow of simple tastes. Moreover, he was incredibly stubborn. One idle spring morning he sauntered out into his back garden to smoke a pipe, and it chanced that for the first time in his life he took a good look at his--yes, he, called it a lawn too. I need not tell you what he saw there. It was like most lawns, four blades of grass and the rest one vast expanse of weeds. For a moment he was staggered. "And then the little devil that lies in wait for men who go out to look at their back-gardens whispered in his ear, 'You've nothing to do, Pilning, why not have a few of these weeds out?' It was his first temptation, and he fell.