BLASTED HOPES
“Where is the new recruit?”
“Well, sir, since he went, an hour or two ago, to sew on a button with guncotton, no one seems to have seen anything of him.”
PROFITABLE AUTHORSHIP
The Girl—“And can you manage on your army pay, Phil?”
The “Sub”—“Hardly; but I do a bit of writing besides.”
The Girl—“What kind of writing?”
The “Sub”—“Oh, letters to the guv’nor!”
THE “LONG, LONG TRAIL” OVER THERE
Paris, Nov., 1918.—In the logging camps and sawmills, in barracks and on the drill grounds, in camps and on the march, in “Y” and Red Cross huts, at all hours of the day and night, wherever in France the Yank crusaders were at work, I have heard these lines sung, hummed, and whistled: