Fragments From France Part 8

[Ill.u.s.tration: Those ---- Mouth-Organs.

"Keep away from the 'ive, Bert; 'e's goin' to sting yer!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Garcong! the bill, tres vite!

That Provost-Marshal Feeling.

A sensation only to be had at a Base--in other words, a base sensation.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Blighty!]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Those Raiders at the Seat of War.

"I wish the 'ell you'd put a cork on that blinkin' pin of yours, Bert!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Romance, 1917.

"Darling, every potato that I have is yours" (engaged).]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Modern Topography.

"Well, you see, here's the church and there's the post-office."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "There Was a Young Man of Cologne."

(I've forgotten the rest of the poem, but it's something about "a bomb"

and "If only he'd known.")]

[Ill.u.s.tration: In the Support Trench.

Old Bill has practically decided to get Private s.h.i.+nio (the ex-comedy-juggler and hand-balancer) transferred to another platoon.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: It's the Little Things that Worry.

What is so particularly annoying to Private Lovebird is, that he would not have had this bother with his dug-out if his leave had not been postponed.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: That Periscope Sensation.

"I wonder if I oughtn't to tell the captain about that thing sticking up in the sea over there."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: At the Brewery Baths.

"You chuck another sardine at me, my lad, and you'll hear from my solicitors."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Miner Success.

"They must 'ave 'ad some good news or somethin', Alf; you can 'ear 'em cheerin' quite plain."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Birds of Ill Omen.

"There's evidently goin' to be an offensive around 'ere, Bert."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: If Only They'd Make "Old Bill" President of Those Tribunals.

"Well, what's your job, me lad?"

"Making spots for rocking-horses, sir."

"Three months."

"Exemption, sir?"

"Nao, exemption be ----d! Three months' hard!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Stars is funny things aint they Bill"

"Yes--funny!"

The Stargazers.

--and their return to earth.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Down at the Ration Dump.

"Call me a Tank again, my lad, and I'll knock yer ---- 'ead off!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Glorious Fifth.

"'Ere, Guy Fawkes--buzz off!"]