On pay day Jones was right on deck, an outstretched cap in view— He thought by trusting to his hands some clackers might leak through. He’d planned to split his wages among all the leading banks, But the Q.M. Just said, “Ahem Expenses come To quite a sum, Though where the tin is coming from Is not my care, But your affair. We’ll have to charge you for a pair Of leggins lost, Ten francs the cost; On board the ship we note you tossed A cigarette Into the wet— Subs might upon our trail have set. That’ll put you Back ninety-two; Insurance, bonds, allotments, too— In short, you owe the Government just eighty-seven francs.” TYLER H. BLISS, Corp., Inf. FAITH I heard the cannons’ monotone A mile or two away; But in the shell-torn town I saw Two little boys at play. From what was yesterday a home I heard the cannons booming; But in the garden I could see A bed of pansies blooming. Along the weary, dreary road, Forspent and dull I trod; But in the sky of spring I saw The countenance of God. THE ORPHANS OF FRANCE Gone are the games that they should be playing; Gone are the trinkets to childhood dear. Hushed are the voices that should be saying Words of parental cheer. Give them the joy that is theirs by birthright! Give them the smiles they are robbed of! Give, Give them the love that is childhood’s earth-right— Give them the right to live! FRANKLIN P. ADAMS, Capt., U.S.A. Give, and the baby buds shall grow In childhood’s sheltered garden plot; Give, and the coming years shall show Each blossom a forget-me-not. Give, and the dawn of lonesome years Shall turn to a springtime morning mild; Give, and receive through a mist of tears, The blessing of a little child. STUART H. CARROLL, Sgt., Q.M.C. REVEILLE Get up, get up, you sleepy head, And grab your sox and trou; Get up, get up, get out of bed, You’re in the Army now. Get up, get up, you carrion beast, Get up and dig for chow; It doesn’t matter what you think, You’re in the Army now.