_Monty_. Hush, you fellows. Orderly Officer. _Bong swar_.

* * * * *

_Once more heads and hips droop. They pose in attitudes of sleep like a
dormitory of small boys on the approach of a prefect. The line Guard
comes to life, seizes his lantern and commences to march up and down as
if salvation depended on his getting in so many laps to the hour. From
the guard-tent a trumpet wails, "Lights out."_

PATLANDER.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Venus_. "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN THE ARMY?"

_Mars_. "OH, ABOUT THREE CHEQUE-BOOKS."]

* * * * *

HYMN FOR HIGH PLACES.

In darkened days of strife and fear,
When far from home and hold,
I do essay my soul to cheer
As did wise men of old;
When folk do go in doleful guise
And are for life afraid,
I to the hills will lift mine eyes