TRIALS OF A CAMOUFLAGE OFFICER.
C. Officer. "NOW THEN, WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS?"
C. Painter. "I WAS TELLING 'IM 'E DIDN'T KNOW NOTHING ABOUT CAMERFLARGE, SIR, AND 'E SAYS, 'HO, DON'T I? I'LL SOON SHOW YER. I'LL MAKE YER SO'S YER OWN MOTHER WON'T KNOW YER'; AN' 'E UPS WITH THE PAINT-BUCKET ALL OVER ME, SIR."
L'AGENT PROVOCATEUR.
A short while ago the following advertisement appeared in the "Personal" column of The Times:—
"Artist (33), literary, travelled, mentally isolated, would appreciate brilliant, interesting correspondents; writers' anonymity observed."
Now thereby hang many tales (none of them necessarily true). Here is one of them.
The Colonel of the Blank-blank Blankshires exclaimed (as all proper Colonels are expected to do), "Ha!" Carefully marking with a blue pencil a small paragraph on the front page of The Times, he threw it on the table among the attentive Mess and snorted.