night into “No Man’s Land” and gathered green vegetables from agarden which ran right down to the German front line.
FOOD WILL WIN THE WAR
Sandy and Pat were discussing the war economies of their respectivelandladies.
“Indade,” said Pat, “the other day Oi saw that wumman O’Grady countin’the paes to put in the broth.”
“Och,” replied Sandy, “where I am the landlady melts the margarine an’paints it on yer bread wi’ a brush!”
GIVING THEM A SEND-OFF
He was a wounded soldier who was traveling in a train. At a pointon the line where it ran parallel with the road he saw a brand-newterritorial battalion marching up to the front. He stuck his bandagedhead out of the door and yelled, “Are you dahn-hearted?” The Terriers,from the colonel to the smallest drummer, shouted, “No-o-oh!” Thewounded man replied: “Well, you d—d soon will be when you get in thosetrenches.”
DON’T BELIEVE ALL YOU HEAR
Private A—“Some funny things hev happened in this war. I heard of abloke the other day who lost his right hand and didn’t know it till hetried to take a package of fags out of his pocket!”
Private B—“That’s not so bad; but I heard of a bloke who got his headshot off and didn’t know it till he tried to scratch it!”
YOU’VE SEEN THEM
Dasher—“I don’t believe the war-films we saw last night were taken atthe front.”
Mrs. Dasher—“Of course they were; didn’t you notice the bullet-holes atthe end of each reel?”—_Puck._
PLACING THE BLAME
A sergeant and a private were out sniping. The private was troubledwith a cold, and was continually sneezing, which rather annoyed and putthe sergeant’s shots off their mark.
“Confound you, Coldhead,” yelled the enraged sergeant at last, “youmade me miss again.”
“Well, I didn’t do nothing, sergeant,” exclaimed the private, amazed.
“Yes, you did. It was your blinkin’ sneeze.”
“I didn’t sneeze,” again protested the private.
“Of course you didn’t,” roared the sergeant. “It’s the first bloomin’time you’ve missed, and—I allowed for it, you chump!”
PROOF POSITIVE
A “Jack Johnson” had exploded with a deafening roar, and Murphy, wipinghis eyes clear of mud with his respirator, looked round to see Clancy,his chum, lying very still.
“Spake to me, Terence!” he whispered. “Are ye alive or dead?”
“Dead!” faintly murmured Clancy.
“What a liar the man is!” soliloquized Murphy, much relieved.
Then Clancy sat up.
“Ye know I must be dead, Murphy,” he said, “or it isn’t the likes ofyou would be calling me a liar!”
CARBOLIC STARTED THIS
J. F. Hartz, of Detroit, the dean of the American Surgical TradeAssociation, said at the fiftieth annual convention in New York:
“The war has kited the price of carbolic acid up to $1.65 a pound—itsold before the war at 9 cents a pound. The hospitals that use carbolicnow have to be as economical and sparing as old Josh Lee.
“Old Josh Lee was a miser, and he breakfasted every morning on oatmeal.To save fuel, he cooked his week’s supply of oatmeal on Sundays. Thissupply, by the time Saturday came round, was pretty stiff and tough andhard to down.
“One Saturday morning old Josh found his oatmeal particularlyunappetizing. It had a crust on it like iron. He took a mouthful ofthe cold, stiff mixture—then he half rose, thinking he’d have to cookhimself some eggs.
“But he hated to give in. He hated to waste that oatmeal. So he tookout the whisky-bottle, poured a generous glass, and setting it beforehis plate, he said:
“‘Now, Josh, if you eat that oatmeal you’ll get this whisky; and if youdon’t, you won’t.’
“The oatmeal was hard to consume, but Josh, with his eye on the whisky,managed it. Then, when the last spoonful was gone, he grinned broadly,poured the whisky back into the bottle again, and said:
“‘Josh, my son, I fooled you that time, you old idiot!’”
BY JOVE, QUITE RIPPING
Everybody who has been in Epsom has seen the big gates on which areperched two stone dogs. An American officer saw them recently for thefirst time.
He approached a native with a joke on his lips, expecting to see itfall flat, as he had been taught would be the case. “When do they feedthese dogs?” he asked.
“When they bark,” said the Epsomite, and now this particular Americanis more of an admirer of Englishmen than ever.
FROM SANTA CLAUS IN WASHINGTON
At one stage of the war Uncle Sam’s steamers crossing the Atlantic hadenormous stars and stripes painted on both sides of their hulls, bowand stern, and between these flags the space was occupied by the ship’sname. At night brilliant lights illuminated the whole gaudy colorscheme. A steamer so decorated was signaled by a British cruiser, “Whatship is that?” The reply came: “United States mail steamer So-and-So.”Said the cruiser: “Thanks. Thought you were a Christmas tree out ofseason.”—London _Opinion_.
THIS BEATS ALL
A young French officer, speaking of bravery on the field of battle,tells this story on himself: “I was in front of my section at night,when suddenly, about ten feet away, I saw a line of enemy riflemen.I told my men to lie down. Then I looked closely, and very clearlymade out moving helmets. With my men behind me we all suddenly aroseand charged. I went ahead and, revolver in hand, I threw myselfforward, shouting in German with all my strength: ‘Surrender! You areprisoners!’ only to find that we had charged several rows of beetstalks with their heads nodding in the wind.”
PAT WAS STRINGING HIM
“Well, Pat, my good man, what did you do?” inquired a patronizingstranger of the Irishman back in London on leave, with his arm in asling.
The stranger’s air annoyed Pat, who blandly said:
“Faith, an’ I walked up to one of them an’ cut off his feet.”
“Cut off his feet! Why not his head?”
“Sure, an’ that was already cut off.”
ANOTHER HUN ATROCITY
An officer recently on leave brought home and gave to a lady a bottleof eau de cologne found in a German colonel’s dugout.
She was at a dinner party shortly afterwards, exhibited it, and she andother ladies dabbed their faces with the perfume.
The room became very warm, and soon they were horrified by theappearance of black stains on their features.
The stuff was a hair dye, which only developed its color when heated.The worst of it was the stains did not disappear for some days.
KNEW HIM WELL
First Tommy—“Here’s a nice letter for a fellow to receive! Thescoundrel who wrote it calls me a blithering idiot.”
Second Tommy—“What’s his name?”
First Tommy—“That’s just what I’d like to find out; but there’s nosignature.”
Second Tommy—“Don’t you recognize the writing? It must be somebody whoknows you.”
ENOUGH TO MAKE A KING LAUGH
A gallant British officer, granted leave, went to London to getmarried, and upon his arrival was very much astonished to receivea summons from the King to an “audience” at five o’clock in theafternoon. He was married at four o’clock, and so, after the ceremony,he drove to Buckingham Palace, and said to his bride: “Now, if you willwait in the carriage I won’t be more than half an hour. These audiencesare always very perfunctory and brief.”
When he was received by the King he found, however, that he was quitealone, was received most informally, and that His Majesty was very keento know of the officer’s exploits and movements at the front. Then,before the officer was aware how time had flown, His Majesty said: “Wehave dinner in half an hour and of course you will stay. The ladieswill want to hear your story.”
The officer had not the courage to tell the King that his bride of anhour had already been waiting in the carriage for three hours, and so,finding no chance to
send word out to her, he remained for dinner. Thedinner was very leisurely served, there was much talk about the front,and it was after ten o’clock when the party broke up. The officer wason edge to leave, when the King said: “You will be shown to your room,and tomorrow morning I shall have something to give you.”
The officer thanked him, and, as he was going to his room, he calledone of the equerries of the household to him and confided to him hisdilemma. Within five minutes there was a knock at the officer’s door,and when he opened it the King stood there fairly convulsed withlaughter. “My dear chap,” said the King, “why didn’t you tell me? Ofcourse it was hard on you and your lady, but really this is the bestjoke I’ve heard for a long time.”
The bride was found, brought in, and under the King’s and Queen’sgraciousness any feelings toward her new husband and his hosts whichshe may have had in her carriage wait of six hours melted away; and thehappy bridal couple spent their marriage night at Buckingham Palace.
TOO SLEEPY TO BE SCARED
All Paris is laughing over the sangfroid of a young married midinetteon the occasion of an air raid on Paris.
The heroine resides on the top story of a large apartment house, andwhen the warning was given was sound asleep.
The concierge, finding that she did not descend to the undergroundshelter, raced upstairs and banged at the door.
After repeated hammerings he woke the lady up, and called to her toimmediately descend to the basement as a raid was on and she was ingreat danger on the top floor.
The reply he got was:
“Go away and let me sleep. My husband is in the trenches. Do youthink he gets into a dugout every time a shell falls? Why should I,therefore, be frightened of an air raid?”
SHE UNDERSTOOD WOMEN
He wanted to buy a Christmas present for his girl back home, so thatshe could show it to all the other girls, and destroy their peace ofmind because it had come from France. He knew just what he wanted, too,but every time he thought of going into the shop and trying to ask inFrench for the thing he wanted he got red behind the ears. He had goneover the top in the past, unafraid, but he couldn’t do this.
At last, when his leave was up, he went into the canteen and asked theY. M. C. A. woman there to make the purchase for him. He gave her theaddress and hoped it wouldn’t be too much trouble to send the package.
“Of course it wouldn’t,” said the Y. M. C. A. woman, who buys dozens ofsuch gifts each week. “I’ll enjoy it. I’ll see that the package goesall right, and, if you like, I’ll write her a little note, too, tellingher how well you’re looking.”
“That will be nice,” said the private. He counted out the money, agenerous amount. Still he lingered, and it was evident that he hadsomething else on his mind.
“Anything else I can do for you?” asked the woman.
“It’s like this,” began the private, hesitatingly. He stopped,swallowed, and started all over again. “Please be careful what you sayin that note, won’t you, ma’am? You see—my girl—she’s funny about somethings—she might think—well, you know how women are!” finished theprivate wisely.
“I’ll tell you what,” said the American woman. “I’ll tell her I enjoyedmeeting you because I have a son in the army myself. Will that do?”
“That will be fine,” said the private heartily. “I wouldn’t havementioned it, only you know how women are.” He smiled at herunderstandingly, saluted, turned and went out.
WELL, THAT WAS HIS COMPANY
First Officer—“What was the joke about Lieutenant Footle?”
Second Officer—“Why, the Major’s wife said she’d be glad of his companyat her house on Wednesday, and the silly ass took all his men along.”
SPOIL OF WAR
The proudest Yankee in the whole advancing army that entered SaintMihiel was the driver of a motor truck who, when he came within fivemiles of the town, discovered a little girl, four years old, with adoll in her arms, sitting by the road, crying. The American immediatelystopped the truck, gathered the little one in with her doll, put heron the seat of honor at his left, and thus drove into the town, to thejoy of the Yankee soldiers when they discovered her. No one has claimedthe little one and she is still the mascot of the company, as happy asa lark and, of course, literally spoiled to death by the worshipingsoldiers, who give her so many sweets that the poor little one is sickabout once a week. Then the boys take her to the base hospital and,after a day, she is back again as well as ever.
CHEERFUL NEWS FROM ‘OVER THERE’
It’s a shame to do it, but public safety impels us to expose thesergeant who is palming off his Mexican border service ribbon asan American croix de guerre, thereby raising his own holdings of“amourique Amerique” stock in the eyes of petite Madélon.
Even so, sleeping on the rocks has its advantages, for in the rosy daysof the future when friend wife turns the lock on our late nocturnalhome-coming, we can curl up on the front porch with sleepful abandon.
And when we are in the parlor with our best girl telling her of thegreat rôle we played in the world-safe-for-democracy drama, we’ll notmind it a bit if the passing guard orders, “Camouflage those lights!”
So many Yanks are over here now that there is scarcely room to housethem, thereby creating the necessity of extending the eastern frontierof this domain of Foch, Pershing, et al.
To our exchange desk has recently come a copy of the _Kriegszeitung_,the official organ of the Seventh German Army. The most we can say forthe sheet is that it is Boche and bosh.
What gets us guessing is how this daylight-saving plan works out in theland of Eskimos, but we suppose all they have to do is to get up sixmonths earlier each morning.
Elsie Janis danced so gracefully that, after she had alighted from aperfectly stunning flip-flop, a doughboy in the third row was heardto remark: “Just like a wheelbarrow I saw in the air after a highexplosive hit near it.”
Our staff correspondent who made the trip to Paris is recovering from arather severe headache.
Cursed be the mule whose braying is like unto the whistling of ashell.—_The Ohio Rainbow Reveille_, Official Organ, 166th Infantry,Somewhere in France.
HE KNEW WHAT TO USE
A sergeant standing at a window in the barracks saw a private pass infull-dress uniform, with a bucket in his hand in the act of fetchingwater from the pump.
Sergeant—“Where are you going?”
Private—“To fetch some water, sir.”
Sergeant—“Not in those trousers, surely?”
Private—“No, sir; in the bucket.”
THEY CAN’T WORK THIS ANY MORE
A manufacturer in Switzerland who had been in the habit of purchasingmany of his supplies in Germany before the war recently met a Germancommercial traveler with whom he had been accustomed to trade. The mansmilingly offered his wares, but he was met with a peremptory refusal.
“Is it because I am a German that you refuse to give me an order?”
“Certainly,” said the Swiss.
“Have you had reason to complain of the way I have executed your ordersin the past? You have not, have you? Very well, then, if you arefriendly to France that is no reason why you should go against your owninterests. You know very well that the goods you get of me will costyou at least twice as much if you buy them of French makers.”
“I know that, but I will make a sacrifice.”
The Boche traveler was not discouraged. “You are making a mistake,” heremarked. “If you do business with us I will give you what no one inFrance can give you.”
“Very likely.”
“You have no doubt relatives who are French soldiers.”
“Certainly.”
“Listen to me,” said the Boche, interrupting him. “There is, perhaps,one who has the misfortune to be a prisoner in our country. Give meyour usual order, tell me the name of the prisoner, one, no more, andI swear to you that I will secure his release as permanently disabled.”
The salesman was asked
to repeat his offer. He did so, and the merchantsaid: “Very well; I will try you to see whether you keep your word.”
“Try me and see,” answered the German.
The manufacturer gave the order so ardently desired, and furnished thetraveler with the name and address of one of his nephews who was aprisoner in Prussia. A week later the nephew arrived in Switzerland,with a number of prisoners who were totally disabled, astounded at hisliberty, because he was perfectly well!—_Ladies’ Home Journal._
IMPORTANT INFORMATION WANTED
Officer—“Now, Private Jenkins, I am going to give you a veryresponsible job. Under our advanced trench is a large mine. I wantyou to stay there, and when the mine goes up I want you to blow thiswhistle. Now, do you clearly understand?”
Private Jenkins—“Well, there’s one thing I’m not certain of, sir. Whendo I blow the whistle—going up or coming down?”
THAT WAS THE HYMN NUMBER
A soldier got mixed recently. He tells about it in a letter home: “Theyput me in barracks; they took away my clothes and put me in khaki;they took away my name and made me ‘No. 575;’ they took me to church,where I’d never been before, and they made me listen to a sermon forforty minutes. Then the parson said: ‘No. 575, art thou weary, art thoulanguid?’ and I got seven days in the guardhouse because I answeredthat I certainly was.”
TEMPORARY
Miranda’s dropt her fancy-work and sailed across the Straits As a temporary “lady of the lamp;” And Jane’s abandoned portraiture to wash the cups and plates Of the Tommies in a temporary camp; And Ethel—nervy Ethel!—is a motor-driving Waac, And fairly saved her special Brigadier The day that Fritz got busy and our line came surging back In a temporary movement to the rear.
A temporary Major they’ve contrived to make of Bob (He was always pretty hefty at his drill), While the rank of air-mechanic—and he hustles at his job— Is the temporary perquisite of Bill; Old Joseph drives a tractor most surprising true and straight (He’s sixty, but a temporary sport), While Augustus sails the ocean as a temporary mate When he isn’t in a temporary port.
There’s a temporary shortage of the things we eat and wear, And the temporary pleadings of the Tank, Plus the temporary taxes that we’re called upon to bear, Lead to temporary trouble at the bank; The only things that haven’t changed since Wilhelm butted in To show how