Now regiments huddle over last week's ashes And pray for coal and sedulously "rest," Where rain and wind contemn the empty sashes, And blue lips frame the faint heroic jest, Till some near howitzer goes off and smashes The only window that the town possessed. Yet somehow Christmas in your souls is stirring, And Colonels now less viciously upbraid Their Transport Officers, however erring, And sudden signals issue from Brigade To say next Tuesday Christmas is occurring, And what arrangements have Battalions made? And then, maybe, while everyone discusses On what rich foods their dear commands shall dine, And (most efficiently) the Padre fusses About the birds, the speeches and the wine-- The Corps-Commander sends a fleet of 'buses To whisk you off to Christmas in the line. You make no moan, nor hint at how you're faring, And here in turn we try to hide our woe, With taxis mutinous, and Tubes so wearing, And who can tell where all the matches go? And all our doors and windows want repairing, But can we get a man to mend them? No. The dustman visits not; we can't get castor; In vain are parlour-maids and plumbers sought, And human intellect can scarcely master The time when beer may lawfully be bought, Or calculate how cash can go much faster, And if one's butcher's acting as he ought. Our old indulgences are now not cricket; Whate'er one does _some_ Minister will cuss; In Tube and Tram young ladies punch one's ticket, With whom one can't be cross or querulous; All things are different, but still we stick it, And humbly hope we help a little thus. So, Fellow-sufferers, we give you greeting-- All luck, all laughter and an end of wars! And just to strengthen you for Fritz's beating, I'm sending out a parcel from the Stores; _They mean to stop my annual over-eating, But it will comfort me to think of yours._ A.P.H. * * * * * THE BANK'S MISTAKE. "I wish," said Francesca, "you would explain something to me." "I am full," I said, "of explanations of every conceivable difficulty. You have only to tap me and an explanation will come bubbling out." "I am not sure that I want the bubbling sort. On the whole I think I prefer the still waters that run deep." "Those too can be provided for you. All you have got to do is to ask." "What a comfort it is," she said, "to live constantly in the mild and magnificent eye of an encyclopædia." "Yes," I said, "it saves a lot of running about, doesn't it? Come now, fire off your question." "What is your opinion of the Bank of England?" "The Bank of England?" I gasped. "One doesn't have opinions of the Bank of England. One just accepts it, you know, and there you are." "Yes," she said, "that's exactly what I felt about it. I thought it was one of the signs of our superiority to everybody else, with its crisp banknotes and all that."