In the good old days, when a man wanted a scrap with his neighbour, he put a double charge of powder into his blunderbuss, crammed in on top of it two horse-shoes, his latch-key, an old watch-chain, and a magnet, and then started on the trail. It was very effective, but of course some busy-body "improved" on it. Nowadays our gunners ring up the enemy's artillery. "Hallo! Is that you, strafe you? What about an artillery duel, eh?" "Oh, what fun!" says the enemy. "Do let's." And then they start. "A hearty give-and-take, that's what I like," remarks a cheery gunner officer. A moment later he rushes to the telephone. "Is that you, enemy?" he asks. "I say, dash it all, old man, do be careful! That last one of yours was jolly near my favourite gun." "By Jove, I'm awfully sorry, old thing," calls back the enemy. "What about shortening the fuses a bit, eh?" "Good idea! Waken up the foot-sloggers too. They need it sometimes." Then for fifteen minutes large shells rebound from the bowed head and shoulders of the unfortunate infantryman. Which reminds me of George. George had a strafe-proof waistcoat procured by him from a French manufacturer. He showed it to us proudly, and also the advertisement, which stated that the waistcoat would easily stop a rifle-bullet, whilst a "45" would simply bounce off it. It was beautiful but alarming to see his confidence as he stood up in a shower of shells, praying for a chance of showing off the virtues of his acquisition. * * * * * We were very pleased to send to his hospital address to-day a postcard bearing the maker's explanation that a .45 revolver bullet, and _not_ a 45 millimetre shell, was meant. As regards the jam question, Jerry, the fault of the jam is that it is never jam, but always marmalade. I feel too sore on the question to write much, but I may just hint that we have heard that Brother Bulgar sometimes gets real strawberry. It is just possible, therefore, that you may hear of a raid soon. Yours ever, PETER. * * * * * THE CONVERT. ["One striking result of the War has been its humanising effect on woman."--_Daily Paper_.] The barbed shaft of Love hath pierced thy heart, Fair Annabelle; distracting is thy lot; Long hast thou thought thyself a deal too smart To be ensnared in Cupid's toils--eh, what? The ways of other maids, less intricate, Filled thee with pity to the very core; Kisses were unhygienic, out of date, And man a most unutterable bore. But now with young Lieutenant Smith, V.C., Thou roamest, gazing shyly in his face; Nay, did I not surprise thee after tea Defying Hygiene in a close embrace? Shall I recall that old sartorial jest, The mannish coat which never seemed to fit, The bifurcated skirt and all the rest, Not half so pretty as thy nursing kit?