emulate it. A very large number had laid out the whole of their décompté—every farthing of two-pence halfpenny—on wine. Others, wiser and more continent, had reserved a halfpenny for tobacco. In one corner of the room an impromptu German glee party was singing with such excellence that the majority of the drinkers were listening to them with obvious appreciation. With hardly a break, and with the greatest impartiality they proceeded from part-song to hymn, from hymn to drinking-song, from drinking-song to sentimental love-ditty. Finally Ein feste burg ist unser Gott being succeeded by Die Wacht am Rhein and Deutschland über Alles, the French element in the room thought that a little French music would be a pleasing corrective, and with one accord, if not in one key, gave a spirited rendering of the Marseillaise, followed by—
"Tiens, voilà du boudin
Tiens, voilà du boudin
Tiens, voià du boudin
Pour les Alsaciens, les Suisses, et les Lorraines,
Pour les Belges il n'y en a plus
Car ce sont des tireurs du flanc..." etc.,
immediately succeeded by—
"As-tu vu la casquette
La casquette
Du Père Bougeaud," etc.
As the ditty came to a close a blue-jowled little Parisian—quick, nervous, and alert—sprang on to a table, and with a bottle in one hand, and a glass in the other, burst into the familiar and favourite—
"C'est l'empereur de Danemark
Qui a dit a sa moitié
Depuis quelqu' temps je remarque
Que tu sens b'en fort les pieds..." etc.
