a marble-cased timepiece and ornaments from the officers and men
of the brigade."--_Local Paper_.

But what use will the clock be to a man for whom time obviously stands
still?

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE DAWN OF INTELLIGENCE IN BERLIN.

FIRST TEUTON. "AFTER ALL IT SEEMS THAT OUR EVER-VICTORIOUS ARMY WAS
BEATEN IN THE FIELD. ARE WE DOWN-HEARTED?"

SECOND TEUTON. "JA!"]

* * * * *

THE MUD LARKS.

Only a few months ago our William and his trusty troop swooped upon
a couple of Bosch field batteries floundering in a soft patch on the
far side of Tournai. William afflicted their gun teams with his little
Hotchkiss gadget, then prepared to gallop them. He had unshipped his
knife and was offering his sergeant long odds on scoring first "pink,"
when our two squadron trumpeters trotted out from a near-by coppice
and solemnly puffed "Cease Fire"--for all the world as if it was the
end of a field-day on the Plain and time to trot home to tea. William
was furious.

"There y'are," he snorted. "Just because I happened to have a full