The Sergeant was a kindly soul, He loved his men upon the whole, He'd also had a father's _rôle_ Pressed on him fairly lately. "Brave Chadd," he said, "thou speakest sooth! O happy day! O pious youth! Great," he extemporized, "is Truth, And it shall flourish greatly." The Sergeant took him by the hand And led him to the Captain, and The Captain tried to understand, And (more or less) succeeded; "Correct me if you don't agree, But one of you wants _what_?" said he, And George Augustus Chadd said, "Me!" Meaning of course that _he_ did. The Captain took him by the ear And gradually brought him near The Colonel, who was far from clear, But heard it all politely, And asked him twice, "You want a _what_?" The Captain said that _he_ did not, And Chadd saluted quite a lot And put the matter rightly. The Colonel took him by the hair And furtively conveyed him where The General inhaled the air, Immaculately booted; Then said, "Unless I greatly err This Private wishes to prefer A small petition to you, Sir," And so again saluted. The General inclined his head Towards the two of them and said, "Speak slowly, please, or shout instead; I'm hard of hearing, rather." So Chadd, that promising recruit, Stood to attention, clicked his boot, And bellowed, with his best salute, "_A happy birthday, Father_!" THE VISITORS' BOOK "As man of the world," said Blake, stretching himself to his full height of five foot three, and speaking with the wisdom of nineteen years, "I say that it can't be done. In any other company, certainly; at headquarters, possibly; but not in D Company. D Company has a reputation." "All I say," said Rogers, "is that, if you can't run any mess in the trenches on four francs a day, you're a rotten mess president." Blake turned dramatically to his company commander. "Did you hear that, Billy?" he asked. "Yes," said Billy. "I was just going to say it myself." "Then, in that case, I have the honour to resign the mess presidency." "Nothing doing, old boy. You're detailed." "You can't be detailed to be a president. Presidents are elected by popular acclamation. They resign--they resign--" "To avoid being shot." "Well, anyhow, they resign. I shall send my resignation in to the Army Council to-night. It will appear in 'The Gazette' in due course. '2nd Lieut. Blake resigns his mess presidency owing to the enormous price of sardines per thousand and the amount of lime juice consumed by casual visitors.' I'll tell you what--I'll run the mess on four francs, if you'll bar guests." "Rot, it's nothing to do with guests. We never have any." "Never have any!" said Blake indignantly. "Then I shall keep a visitors' book just to show you." So that was how the D Company Visitors' Book was inaugurated. I had the honour of opening it. I happened to be mending a telephone line in this particular trench one thirsty day, and there was the dug-out, and--well, there was I. I dropped in. "Hallo," said Blake, "have a drink."