THE SUPER-PIPE. When Jackson first joined the jolly old B.E.F. he smoked a pipe. He carried it anyhow. Loose in his pocket, mind you. A pipe-bowl at his pocket's brim a simple pipe-bowl was to him, and it was nothing more. Of course no decent B.E.F. mess could stand that. Jackson was told that a pipe was anathema maranatha, which is Greek for no bon. "What will I smoke then?" said Jackson,... more...

MILLIE AND THE "KAYSER." Millie is a "daily help." Who it is that she helps—whether herself or her employer—I am not in a position to say, for I am only temporarily a lodger in the house where Millie helps, and she doesn't help me much. But to-day I have made her hear and understand one whole sentence. It is the first time during the six days that we have known each other that... more...

THE GREAT MAN. What am I doing, Dickie? Well, I'll tell you. I'm one of those subalterns you hear of sometimes. You know the kind of things they do? They look after their men and ask themselves every day in the line (as per printed instructions), "Am I offensive enough?" In trenches they are ever to the fore, bombing, patrolling, raiding, wiring and inspecting gas helmets.... more...

THE CARP AT MIRAMEL. [In the following article all actual names, personal, geographical and regimental, have been duly camouflaged.] The carp that live in the moat of the Château de Miramel (in the zone of the armies in France) are of an age and ugliness incredible and of a superlative cynicism. One of them—local tradition pointed to a one-eyed old reprobate with a yellow face—is the richer these... more...

PRATT'S TOURS OF THE FRONT. THE LAST WORD IN SENSATION. By special arrangement Pratt's are able to offer their patrons unique opportunities of witnessing the stirring events of the Great Struggle. Don't miss it; you may never see another War. Come and see Tommy at work and play. Come and be shelled—a genuine thrill! Same as during London's Air-raids, but less danger. At the... more...

MONSIEUR JOSEPH. On the day that I left hospital, with a month's sick leave in hand, I went to dine at my favourite Soho restaurant, the Mazarin, which I always liked because it provided an excellent meal for an extremely modest sum. But this evening my steps turned towards the old place because I wanted a word with Monsieur Joseph, the head-waiter. I found him the same genial soul as ever, though... more...

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NIGHTMARES. II. OF A T.B.D. CAPTAIN, WHO DREAMS THAT HE HAS FOUND HIS LOG BOOK MADE UP BY MR. PH*L*P G*BBS. Time:—7.30 A.M.—Once more we set out on our never-ending mission, our ceaseless vigil of the seas. The ruddy weather-stained coxswain swung the wheel this way and that—his eyes were of the blue that only the sea can give—in obedience to, or rather in accord with, the curt, mystic,... more...

WAYS AND MEANS. I met her at the usual place, and she looked much the same as usual—which astonished me rather. "Now that we're engaged," I began. "Oh, but we aren't," said Phyllis. "Are you by any chance a false woman?" I asked. "You remember what you said last night?" "I do, and what I said I stick to. But that was pleasure, and this is business." I... more...

A ROMANCE OF RATIONS. "Not like to like, but like in difference." "The Princess." I have always misjudged Victorine—I admit it now with shame. While other girls have become engaged—and disengaged quite soon after—she has remained unattached and solitary. As I watched the disappointed suitors turn sadly away I put it down to pride and self-sufficiency, but I was wrong. I see now... more...