These are just a few little hints that have occurred to me. Your own good sense will guide you as to the rest. Everybody at home is taking a tremendous interest in the War, I'm glad to say. Hardly a day passes but I am asked at least a dozen times when it is going to be over. Your affectionate Father, etc., etc. * * * * * From an order recently issued at the Front: "Great care must always be exercised in tethering horses to trees, as they are apt to bark, and thereby destroy the trees." Wow, wow! * * * * * [Illustration: THE PERFECT LIFE. "YES, GAFFER. ME AN' MY OLE WOMAN 'ERE 'AVE LIVED TOGETHER THESE FORTY YEAR, AN' NEVER 'AD A QUARREL--FORTY YEAR, MIND YER, AN' NEVER BIN BEFORE THE MAGISTRATE!"] * * * * * SIGNS OF INNS. The Herald lives in cloister grey; He lives by clerkly rules; He dreams in coats and colours gay, In _argent_, _or_ and _gules_; He blazons knightly shield and banner In dim monastic hall, And in a grave and reverend manner He earns his bread withal. Were I a herald fair and fit So featly for to limn As though I'd learnt the lore of it Among the seraphim, I'd leave the schools to clerkly people And walk, as dawn begins, From steeple unto distant steeple, And paint the signs of inns. _The Dragon_, as I'd see him, is A loving beast and long, And oh, the _Goat and Compasses_, 'Twould fill my soul with song; _The Bell_, _The Bull_, _The Rose and Rummer_, Such themes should like me still At Yule, or when the heart of Summer Lies blue on vale and hill. Let others' blazonry find place Supported, scrolled with gold, A glowing dignity and grace On honoured walls and old; And let it likewise be attended In stately circumstance With mottos writ o' Latin splendid Or courtly words of France; But I would paint _The Golden Tun_ And others to my mind, And mellow them in rain and sun, And hang them on the wind; And I would say, "My handcraft creaking On this autumnal gale Unto all wayfarers is speaking In praise of rest and ale." Then bless the man who puts a sign Above his wide door's beam, And bless the hop-root, fruit and vine, For still I dream my dream, Where, as the flushing East turns pinker And tardy day begins, I take the road like any tinker And paint the signs of inns. * * * * * "INSTANT DEMAND FOR WARNINGS. "MAYORS OF LONDON MOVING." _Evening News_. They ought to set a better example. * * * * *