A man with a position to keep up simply can't afford to be caught in the act of feloniously making away with pigs in war-time; besides DORA was still alive and she might have something to say; so I had to pretend how pleased I was, and I gave the scamp half-a-crown. Now I know Perkins and Son well enough to realise that if the animal had been worth more than half-a-crown they would have allowed me to lose my pig free of charge. So I made another resolution. It was pretty drastic, but in a crisis like this severe measures are often the best. In short, it was murder I contemplated--nothing less. I went to work carefully. I let four months slip by to allay any possible suspicion. I paid my weekly cheque without being asked; without a murmur I parted daily with my swill; in fact I comported myself as though the unholy plot maturing in my breast was nonexistent. At length the night arrived. I took down my long magazine Lee Enfield and my cartridge (I am not a Volunteer for nothing) and crept to the Patriot Pig H.Q. The once-crowded sty lay dark and still. I entered and switched on my torch: it shone on the loathsome features that I knew so well. He was all alone, so there could be no mistake. His head was as large as ever, but his body seemed scarcely visible. I weighed him; he registered fourteen pounds.: I will not harrow you, my reader, with details. Suffice it to say my nerve was sure, my eye true and my hand steady. I killed that pig with a single shot and went home to bed. The Doctor arrived next morning while I was shaving. He was white with rage. He said: "What the deuce do you mean by killing my pig?" "_Your_ pig ?" I smiled. "No, _my_ Pig!" "Stuff and nonsense!" he spluttered. "_Your_ pig died four months ago--caught cold last July through being out so late at night and died next day." That roused me. "Do you mean to tell me," I asked coldly, "that I've been paying five pounds a week for the last four months for a dead pig?" "Very kind of you, I'm sure," replied the Doctor, "but no one asked you to, you know." Adding together all my expenses--the weekly subscription for my pig; a similar sum paid to the Doctor for his; the value of my swill; the fine imposed (by DORA) for improper use of firearms; ditto (by the Magistrate) for shooting game without a licence; alleged damage to the P.P. premises and the remaining wits of their custodian; and finally, the bill from Mr. Perkins for a pound of pork purchased in July, and the account from Dr. Jones for professional attendance subsequent to consumption of same--adding all these together I find that from first to last I disbursed £385 5s. 5-1/2d. on the patriot. With pork at two shillings a pound my outlay should have produced a pig that weighed 1 ton 14-1/2 cwt. Truly that would have been a very Hindenburg of a pig. It was almost worth trying. * * * * * OUR EUPHEMISTS.