This happened several days ago, and the ruling is probably obsolete by now, but I am wondering how I shall break the news to the G.O.C. if I should happen to meet him on one of my morning walks into town; and in my heart of heart I know that one fine morning I shall be cowardly, and wake before nine, and attend my first parade at army Base. Some zealous despatch rider will dash hot-foot to the G.O.C. with the news, and he will come and rub his hands and chuckle and gloat. It will be a Black Day.
Here too there are minor points of etiquette that vex one. Is it correct for me, having bought half a kilo of chocolates while waiting for a train, to kill further time by eating them out of a paper bag under the surveillance of an A.S.C. sergeant? or ought I to offer a few to the sergeant with some jeu d'esprit—never coarse and never cruel—about bully beef? Of such are the complexities with which a Base harasses the soul of an officer nurtured in the genial simplicity of trench life.
From an account of the Peace demonstration in Berlin:—
"The people simply turned up themselves, and everyone was highly turned up themselves, and everyone was highly pleased with the result."—Egyptian Mail.
It seems to have been a complete revolution.
LITERARY LISPINGS.
The "motive" of Mrs. Pumfrey Lord's new novel is Christian Science, and the hero, the Duke of Southminster, is understood to be a composite portrait of Lord Rosebery and Mr. Gladstone. The character of the evil genius of the plot, Lord Rufus Doldrum, is partly modelled on Alcibiades, but in its main lines is reminiscent of Mrs. Eddy and Major Winston Churchill. On the other hand the eccentric Lord Wymondham, who creates a sensation by appearing at a Cabinet meeting in accordion-pleated pyjamas, is understood to be an entirely imaginary personage. The novel, which has been running in Wanamaker's Weekly, will shortly be published by the Strongmans.