* * * * * "SOLDIERS' CHRISTMAS GIFTS. POSTING DATES FOR EGYPT AND SALONIKA." _Times._ It sounds a little like consigning coal to Newcastle. * * * * * "AIR RAIDS.--Peaceful country rectory, Hampshire, well out of danger zone, can receive three or four paying guests. Large garden, beautiful scenery, high, bracing. Simple life. £10 each weekly."--_The Times._ This enterprising parson seems to have borrowed his recipe for the simple life from GRAY'S _Elegy_:-- Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenner of their way. * * * * * BEASTS ROYAL. IV. KING HENRY'S STAG-HOUND. A.D. 1536. Ten puffs upon my master's toes, And twenty on his sleeves, Upon his hat a Tudor rose Set round with silver leaves; But never a hunting-spear, And never a rowel-spur; Who is this that he calls his Dear? I think I will bark at her. The Windsor groves were fresh and green, Dangling with Summer dew, When my master rode with his Spanish queen, And the huntsman cried, "Halloo!" Now never a horn is heard, And never the lances stir; Who is this that he calls his Bird? I think I will follow her. To-night my master walks alone In the pleachéd pathway dim, And the thick moss reddens on the stone Where she used to walk with him. When will he shout for the glove And the spear of the verderer? Where is she gone whom he called his Love? For I cannot follow her. * * * * * SECOND CHILDHOOD. I must make a confession to someone. I have wasted raw material which is a substitute for something else indispensable for defeating the Hun, and probably traitor is the right name for me. Let me explain.