"I can't help that. Poetry is art, and I can't alter my great feeling for satire to please them. It will come out; and even though old Dunston and Peacock don't see it, I know jolly well the Kaiser and the Crown Prince would, if they read it."

Well, there it was, and that was about the lot worth mentioning who had a shot at Mr. Peacock's guinea. The calendar month passed, and one day, when classes began, the Doctor appeared, supported by Peacock, Fortescue, and Brown.

Everybody was summoned into the chapel, and the Doctor, who dearly likes a flare-up of this kind, told us that the prize poems had been judged and were going to be read.

"I may tell you," he said, "that the prize has been won, contrary to my fear that none would prove worthy of it. But we are agreed that there is a copy of verses on the solemn subject set for discussion that disgraces neither the writer nor Merivale. Indeed, I will go further than that, and declare that one poem reflects no small credit on the youthful poet responsible for it; and Mr. Peacock and Mr. Fortescue, than whom you shall find no more acute and critical judges, share my own pleasure at the effusion."

The Doctor then began to read the prize poems, and he started with that of Percy minimus, much to Percy's confusion.

"The views of Percy minimus on the War are elementary, as we should expect from a youth of his years," said old Dunston. "I may remark, however, that he rhymes with great accuracy, and if he shows an inclination to be didactic, and even give Lord Kitchener a hint or two, I frankly pardon him for the sake of his concluding line. This reveals in Percy minimus a flash of elevated feeling which does him infinite credit. One can only hope that his pious aspiration will be echoed by those great nations doomed to defeat in the appalling catastrophe which they have provoked."

Then he gave us the poem.

THE WAR

BY PERCY MINIMUS

War is a very fearful thing, I'm sure you'll all agree,

But sometimes we have got to fight in order to be free.

The Germans want to slaughter us, and do not understand

We are a people famed in fight, and also good and grand.

We never were unkind to them and never turned them out

When unto England's shores they came, to trade and look about.

But all the time, I grieve to say, they only came as spies,

So that, when came the dreadful "Day," they'd take us by surprise.

Which they did do, and if our ships had not been all prepared,

The Germans would have landed, and not you or I been spared.

Now all is changed, and very soon, upon the Belgian strand,

I promise you a million men of English breed shall land.

And thanks to good Lord Kitchener, their wants will be supplied

With splendid food and cosy clothes and many things beside;

But he must bring the big siege guns when Antwerp we shall reach,

Because with these fine weapons we have got to make a breach.

So let us pray that very soon we smash the cruel Hun,

And if, by dreadful luck, we lose--oh, then God's will be done!