The wretched gunners cluster on the gun, Clasping the clammy breech and slippery shells; If 'tis a joke they do not see the fun And damn you to the worst of DANTE'S hells. And Sub-Lieutenant Blank, that martial man, Shows his pyjamas to a startled world, And shivers in the foremost of our van The while our H.E. shells are upwards hurled. You vanish, not ten centimes worth the worse For all our noise, so far as we can tell; The blest "Stand easy" comes; with many a curse We hurry to the tents named after Bell.[1] In two brief hours we must arise and shine! O willow-waly! Would I were at home Where leisurely I breakfasted at nine And warm and fed went officeward to roam! So come again, but at another time, Say after breakfast or some hour like that, Or I will strafe you with a viler rhyme-- I will, by Jove! or eat my shell-proof hat. [Footnote 1: On second thoughts I don't believe they are named after anyone, but "Bell" rhymes comfortably with "tell," so it may stand.] * * * * * "The Rev. T.F. ---- officiated in the church yesterday for the first time since his return from a four months' spell of work in connection with the Y.M.C.A. Huns in France."--_Provincial Paper_. We congratulate him upon his discovery of this hitherto unknown tribe. * * * * * [Illustration: GLIMPSES OF THE FUTURE. _Maid._ "MR. JONES, SIR--HIM WOT KILLED SEVENTEEN GERMANS IN ONE TRENCH WITH HIS OWN 'ANDS--'AS CALLED FOR THE GAS ACCOUNT, SIR."] * * * * * THE LITTLE MATCH-GIRL. _(With apologies to the shade of HANS ANDERSEN.)_ It was late on a bitterly cold showery evening of Autumn. A poor little girl was wandering in the cold wet streets. She wore a hat on her head and on her feet she wore boots. ANDERSEN sent her out without a hat and in boots five sizes too large for her. But as a member of the Children's Welfare League I do not consider that right. She carried a quantity of matches (ten boxes to be exact) in her old apron. Nobody had bought any of her matches during the whole long day. And since the Summer-Time Act was still in force it was even longer than it would have been in ANDERSEN's time. The streets through which she passed were deserted. No sounds, not even the reassuring shrieks of taxi-whistles, were to be heard, for it costs you forty shillings now (or is it five pounds?) to engage a taxi by whistle, and people simply can't afford it. Clearly she would do no business in the byways, so she struck into a main thoroughfare. At once she was besieged by buyers. They guessed she was the little match-girl because she struck a match from time to time just to show that they worked. Also, she liked to see the blaze. She would not have selected this branch of war-work had she not been naturally fond of matches.