But now and then they will tell risqué stories. More than risqué—really shocking. Jack does his best to get them off it, but he never succeeds. They seem to think we expect it."
"Oh, ours aren't a bit like that. The trouble with ours is that they hate going out. They sit tight indoors from morning to night."
"Can't you lure them out?"
"Well, I tell them what a wonderful place the British Museum is; but it's no use."
IV.
"Every evening during dinner Madame tells us how she walked from Louvain. Poor creature, she's not slender, and she had to walk mile after mile for eight hours. It must have been dreadful. But she won't remember that we've heard it all before. Everything reminds her of it. We're terrified to speak, Andrew and I, for fear some little tiny word will suggest walking from Louvain, and it always does.... Poor thing, though!"
THE POLITICAL TRUCE.
Little Boy. "Have the Germans killed Mr. Lloyd George, Ma?"
Mother. "Of course not, dear. Why do you ask?"
Boy. "Well, I haven't heard nuffin 'bout him lately."
A correspondent asks us what exactly are the duties of the marines. We have not space to give him an exhaustive account of the work of these handy men, but we can indicate their affectionate nature by the following cutting from The Liverpool Echo:—
"One notable case in which a decoration was bestowed was of a young seaman, who at tremendous risk to himself, freed a submarine from a marine which had become attached to it off Heligoland."
Casual meetings off Heligoland are responsible for many such romances. Our correspondent's further enquiries about the duties of the destroyer and the torpedo we will let two other contemporaries answer:—
"Fourteen Roumanian destroyers from the Austro-Hungarian army arrived at Sinaia, Roumania, having crossed the Transylvanian Mountains on foot."—Bombay Chronicle.
"Newspapers state that a French torpedo entered Dunkirk on Friday and reported having rammed and sunk a German submarine off Westende."—Indian Daily Telegraph.
In advertisement matters it is sometimes asserted that the right use of type is the great thing. It is, however, a relief to the writer that a certain announcement with an ironic suggestion of reckless benevolence has now been removed from most of the hostelries. Yet it afforded instruction as to ringing the changes upon the sizes of type:—
OUR
CHRISTMAS CLUB HAS COMMENCED.
HAVE WHAT YOU PLEASE.
TO THE VALUE OF YOUR MONEY.
"There are complaints concerning the housing of the new Armies which, although now partly rectified, would be the better for further ventilation."—Times.
In sending us this cutting, our soldier correspondent writes:—"Further ventilation be blowed. I've had to shove the rest of the blessed paper in the cracks, as it is."
