Yours ever,
One of the Punch Brigade.
THE CHEERY DOGS.
I.—Mr. A.
"Well, what have we done?—that's what I want to know. Where are the Germans? In France and Belgium. Where are we? This side of them. Where is their Navy? Still only too active. And so it goes on. My dear fellow, I like to be cheerful, but you give me no material to do it on. The cold truth is that we are just where we were months ago. 'Time is on our side,' you say. May be; but the War can't go on for ever, and meanwhile look at things here—food rising, coal rising, distress all around. What do you think the income-tax is going to be soon? Ha! Still it does not do to air these opinions and doubts. We must all be gay. That is our first duty."
II.—Mr. B.
"Yes, of course there's Russia, as you say. But what is Russia? You know what Russia is. They've no heart in fighting, and I'm told that many personages in high places, and one very high indeed, are moving at this moment towards peace. That would be a nice thing, wouldn't it? It would liberate all the East frontier men and guns to come over to the West. And there's another thing about Russia too—how is it to get any more ammunition into the country with Archangel frozen? I suppose you know that we have been supplying them with ammunition ever since the start; and there's precious little left, I can tell you. You didn't know that? You surprise me. No, it doesn't do to lean too much on Russia. And money too. Where is that coming from? For ultimately, you know, all wars are fought with money. We shall have to find that too. So it isn't too easy to grin, is it? And yet I flatter myself that I succeed in conveying an impression of distinct optimism."
III.—Mr. C.
"Well, of course, if all the naturalised Germans in this country are not interned we have only ourselves to thank if we are completely conquered. Think of the terrible advantage to the enemy to have waiters spying on the guests in hotels and at once communicating with Berlin! What chance have we if that kind of thing goes on? I was in an hotel at Aylesbury only yesterday, and I am sure a waiter there was a German, although he was called Swiss. He watched everything I ate. I tell you there are German spies everywhere. What can a waiter at Aylesbury tell Berlin? Ah! that's what we don't understand. But something of the highest moment and all to our disadvantage in war. But we have spies too? Never. I can't believe that England would ever be clever enough to make use of any system of secret service. No, Sir, we're back numbers. Still, it mustn't get out. We must all pretend, as I do, that everything is all right."