AN' YE'LL TAK' THE LOW ROAD...."

{The enemy has been fighting desperately to prevent us from occupying
the ridges above the Ypres-Menin road, and so forcing him to face the
winter on the low ground.}]

* * * * *

[Illustration: INFORMATION TO THE ENEMY.

_Wife._ "I CALL IT SIMPLY SCANDALOUS THAT THE PAPERS SHOULD BE ALLOWED
TO PUBLISH THE DATES WHEN THE MOON IS FULL."]

* * * * *

OSWALD AND CO.

We live in a fortress on the crest of a hill overlooking a little
Irish town, a centre of the pig and potheen industries. The fortress
was, according to tradition, built by BRIAN BORU, renovated by Sir
WALTER RALEIGH (the tobacconist, not the professor) and brought up
to date by OLIVER CROMWELL. It has dungeons (for keeping the butter
cool), loop-holes (through which to pour hot porridge on invaders),
an oubliette (for bores) and a portcullis.

In spite of these conveniences our fortress is past its prime and a
modern burglar would treat it as a joke. It is so weak in its joints
that when the wind blows it shakes like a jelly, and we have to shave
with safety-razors.