And now the good work is complete. Toggle and cinch perform their proud functions, and I sleep undisturbed by Arctic nightmares, for I have substituted green ties for the stoneware buttons which reduced my vitality by absorbing heat. My only trouble is my increasing reluctance to rise in the morning. I don't like changing out of my beautiful things so early in the day. I am beginning to want breakfast in bed.
AT THE DUMP.
(Lines to the N.C.O. in charge.)
Now is the hour of dusk and mist and midges,
Now the tired planes drone homeward through the haze,
And distant wood-fires wink behind the ridges,
And the first flare some timorous Hun betrays;
Now no shell circulates, but all men brood
Over their evening food;