"Well, what is it to be called?" the sceptic asked. "I think a good title would be, _Have I Put Everything in?_" "Sounds like a manual of bayonet exercise," said the soldier, and he made imaginary lunges at imaginary Huns. "Very well then, to prevent ambiguity call it _Have I Left Anything Out?_ The sub-title would be 'A Guide to Packing,' or 'The Week-Ender's Friend.'" "Ah!" said the other, beginning to be interested. "With such a book," the _flâneur_ continued, "you could never, as I did on Saturday, arrive at a house without any pyjamas, because you would find pyjamas in the list, and directly you came to them you would shove them in. That would be the special merit of the book--that you would get, out of wardrobes and drawers and off the dressing-table, the things it mentioned as you read them and shove them in." "You would hold the book in the left hand," said the soldier, with almost as much excitement as though he were the author, "and pack with the right. That's the way." "Yes, that's the way. It would be only a little book--like a vest-pocket diary--but it would be priceless. It would be divided into sections covering the different kinds of visit to be paid--week-end, week, fortnight, and so on. Then the kind of place--seaside, river, shooting, hunting, and so on. Foreign travel might come in as well." "Yes," said the soldier, "lists of things for Egypt, India, Nairobi." "That's it," said the _flâneur._ "And there would be some unexpected things too. I guess you could help me there with all your wide experience." "A corkscrew, of course," said the soldier. "I said unexpected things," said the _flâneur_ reprovingly, "such as--well, such as a screw-driver for eye-glasses--most useful. And a carriage key. And--" His pause was my opportunity. "I'll tell you another thing," I said, "something for which I'd have given a sovereign in that gale last week when I was at the seaside--window-wedges. Never again shall I travel without window-wedges." "By Jove!" said the soldier, "that's an idea. Put down window-wedges at once. It's a great book this," he went on. "And needed--I should jolly well say so. You ought to compile it at once--before any of us has time to go away again. Personally I don't know how I've lived without it. Why, just talking about it makes me feel quite a literary character." "Let me see," I said sweetly, "what do you call this monumental work? Oh yes, I remember--_Are There Any Important Omissions from my Saturday-to-Monday Equipment?_" "Rubbish!" said the soldier. "The title is--_Have I Put Everything in?_" * * * * * BY THE CANAL IN FLANDERS. By the canal in Flanders I watched a barge's prow Creep slowly past the poplar-trees; and there I made a vow That when these wars are over and I am home at last However much I travel I shall not travel fast.