Apparently no more countries remain to be challenged. Must find some at all costs.
Sudden inspiration. Have issued ultimatum to my own country that, if she does not find fresh countries for me to fight before midnight, war will ensue.
Midnight. No new countries found. I declare war on Germany.
The Journalistic Manner.
"Every inch of Belgium will be fought for foot by foot."—Daily Telegraph.
THE OLD ORDER CHANGES.
A thousand years ago I won a cup for jumping. It was not a very good cup, but then it was not a very good jump. Such as the cup is, however, it stands on a shelf in my library, and I have ways of directing the attention of visitors to it. For instance, if a collector of old prints is coming to dinner, I hang my oldest print just above the cup, ready for him; we take our—or better, his—cigars into the library, and I say, "Oh, look here, I picked this print up last week; the man said it was a genuine Eyre and Spottiswoode; you might give me your opinion." He gives me his opinion ... and then his eye wanders down. I see him reading the inscription on the cup.