"This was followed by a banquet in which Bro. W.S. Williams took a prominent part."—Daily Chronicle (Kingston, Jamaica).
Still, was it quite kind to call attention to it?
LETTERS FROM MACEDONIA.
II.
MY DEAR JERRY,—No doubt you think from the light-hearted tone of my last letter that life here is a bed of roses. In reality we have our flies in the ointment—nay, our shirt-buttons in the soup. The chief of the flies is artillery, both our own and that of the people opposite; and the worst of the shirt-buttons is jam. It sounds strange, but it is true.
There was a time in the olden days when we welcomed gunner-officers, but those days are unhappily past since we met Major Jones. Learn then the perfidy of the Major and ex uno disce, omnes.
I had a nice little 'ouse up in the front line, well hidden by trees. It wasn't a house, Jerry, I wish you to understand; it was merely a little 'ouse standing in its own grounds like, with a brace or so of chickens and a few mangel-wurzels a-climbin' round the place. You know what it's like.
Well, Major Jones, who had been my guest several times in this little 'ouse of mine, came round a few days ago with a worried look and an orderly.