However, the car eventually learnt to stand on its back wheels, climb hedges and make its way home across country, having confirmed its general opinion of the Bosch, that he is only good at one thing, and that is destroying other people's property. I am now back in comfort again, and able to remember your suffering. I send herewith a slice of bully beef (one) and potatoes (two), hoping that they will not be torpedoed, and urging you to hang on, for we are now beginning to think of moving towards Germany, if only to see, when we get there, exactly what the Frenchman has been evolving in his mind all this time. Yours ever, HENRY. * * * * * [Illustration: "WELL, SO YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE THE VOTE AT LAST." "OH, ONLY WOMEN OVER THIRTY, YOU KNOW."] * * * * * "General Ludendorff has received the Red Eagle of the First Class."-- _Central News_. An appropriate reward for his rapid flight. * * * * * [Illustration: _Customer_. "LOOK OUT! YOU'RE CONFOUNDEDLY CLUMSY!" _New Assistant_. "WELL, YOU CAN'T BE PARTICKLER WHAT YOU DO NOWADAYS. I NEVER WAS A BARBER AFORE, AND I 'ATE AND DESPISE THE JOB--SEE?"] * * * * * COMRADES. In every home in England you will find their wistful faces, Where, weary of adventure, lying lonely by the fire, Untempted by the sunlight and the call of open spaces, They are listening, listening, listening for the step of their desire. And, watching, we remember all the tried and never failing, The good ones and the game ones that have run the years at heel; Old Scamp that killed the badger single-handed by the railing, And Fan, the champion ratter, with her fifty off the reel. The bitches under Ranksboro' with hackles up for slaughter, The otter hounds on Irfon as they part the alder bowers, The tufters drawing to their stag above the Horner Water, The setters on Ben Lomond when the purple heather flowers. The collie climbing Cheviot to head his hill sheep stringing, The Dandie digging to his fox among the Lakeside scars, The Clumber in the marshes when the evening flight is winging And the wild geese coming over through the rose light and the stars. And my heart goes out in pity to each faithful one that's fretting Day by day in cot or castle with his dim eyes on the door. In his dreams he hunts with sorrow. And for us there's no forgetting That he helped our love of England and he hardened us for war. W.H.O. * * * * * _AUTRE TEMPS--AUTRES MOEURS._