Crash! bang! boom! and like rabbits to earth once more; we have been spotted, and whiz-bangs fall--a dozen wasted German shells. Packed like sardines we lie and try to snatch some moments' sleep. With revolvers by our sides, and respirators on our chests, we live in the perpetual night of underground, coming to the surface to work or see a little of God's sunshine or explore, as shells permit and the spirit moves us. Time as a measure has ceased to be and our watches serve just as checks on our movements. I love life, and oh, how I hate it too! G. B. MANWARING. A CAROL FROM FLANDERS 1914 In Flanders on the Christmas morn The trenched foemen lay, The German and the Briton born-- And it was Christmas Day. The red sun rose on fields accurst, The gray fog fled away; But neither cared to fire the first, For it was Christmas Day. They called from each to each across The hideous disarray (For terrible had been their loss): "O, this is Christmas Day!" Their rifles all they set aside, One impulse to obey; 'Twas just the men on either side, Just men--and Christmas Day. They dug the graves for all their dead And over them did pray; And Englishman and German said: "How strange a Christmas Day!" Between the trenches then they met, Shook hands, and e'en did play At games on which their hearts are set On happy Christmas Day. Not all the Emperors and Kings, Financiers, and they Who rule us could prevent these things For it was Christmas Day. O ye who read this truthful rime From Flanders, kneel and say: _God speed the time when every day Shall be as Christmas Day_. FREDERICK NIVEN. THE MINER AND THE TIGER On an October day in 1866, David Lloyd George, then a little lad of three years, came with his mother and younger brother to live with his uncle, Richard Lloyd, for his father had died leaving the family penniless. His uncle, a shoemaker and preacher, was educated though poor. In the picturesque little village of Llanystumdwy on the coast of Wales, Lloyd George grew up,--a leader among his mates, not only in his studies but in mischief as well. He was a good thinker and liked to debate with his uncle, and to be in his uncle's shop in the evening when the men of the village gathered to talk over questions of business and politics. As he grew older, he took part in their conversation and was acknowledged by them to have a good mind.