I may have speshul occashuns when I let loose. Like once in a while when were sittin alone evenins in the little house with the green blinds that aint built yet. Then Ill get out the helmet that belonged to the red headed Fritz an the looger pistel an the irun crosses. Ill tell you how the big ones sounded when they went over the dug-out. Ill show you how Fritz says Kamarad. Ill tell you about bilets an mud an Top sargents an whiz bangs. Perhaps once a year, say Crismus or something, Ill tell about goin over the top. I got to get that out of my sistem once in a while. The rest of the time Im goin to be just plain Mr. Bill Smith, docter or brick layer or lawyer or street car conductor--anything in fact that hasnt got any horses connected with it. [Illustration: "IM GOING TO BE JUST PLAIN MR. BILL SMITH"] So good by for a while. The next time you here from me itll be the scrapin of my hobnails on the front stoop. Then look out. Impulsive. Thats me all over, Mable. _Bill_ THE END End of Project Gutenberg's "Same old Bill, eh Mable!", by Edward Streeter