Mr. Punch drew another letter from the heap on his office-desk and opened it.
Dear Mr. Punch—An amusing incident happened here yesterday. I was talking to an old countryman, a great character in the village, and I happened to make some remark about the War. "What war?" asked old Jarge. "The European War," I answered in surprise. "Well," he said, "they've got a fine day for it." I thought this would interest you.
Yours etc., John Brown
"Two hundred and eighteen," said Mr. Punch to himself, and took the next letter from the heap.
Mr. William Smith presents his compliments to Mr. Punch and begs to send him the following dialogue which occurred in this village yesterday:—
Myself. "Well, what do you think of the War, Jarge?"
Jarge. "What war?"
Myself (surprised). "The European War."
Jarge. "They've got a fine day for it, anyhow."
Mr. Smith thought you would like this.
"Two hundred and nineteen," said Mr. Punch to himself "not counting the South African or Crimean ones." He sighed and selected a third letter.
Dear Mr. Punch,—How's this? I asked a native what he thought of the War. On being told which war, he replied, "Eh, mon, ye ken, but they've got a gran'———"
At this point Mr. Punch rose from his chair and began to pace the room restlessly.
"There must be more in life than this," he said to himself again and again; "this can't be all."
He looked at his watch.
"Yes," he murmured, "that's it. I shall just have time."
Hastily donning the military overcoat of an Honorary Cornet-Major of the Bouverie Street Roughriders, be left for the Front.
*****
Mud, and then again mud, and then very much more mud.
