"I received your dear little note in a sandbag. You say that you hope the sandbag stops a bullet. Well, to tell the truth, I hope it don't, as I have been patching my trousers with it."
Prince von Buelow, who has been for some time in Switzerland, has obtained an increase in the number of his secretaries, of whom he now has a round dozen. Several of the poor fellows are suffering from writer's cramp through having to pen so many letters explaining that the Prince is at Lucerne purely for the sake of his health.
Fiery Major (discussing delinquent Subaltern). "But there—what can you expect? He's only one of those temporary blighters!"
Colonel (sweetly). "But isn't that better than being a permanent blighter?"