In his collar bossed with brass,
Lies the swift Dalmatian, the KING's plum-pudding dog.

* * * * *

CAMOUFLAGE CONVERSATION.

It came as a shock to the Brigade Major that the brigade on his left
had omitted to let him know the time of their projected raid that
night. It came as a shock all the more because it was the General
himself who first noticed the omission, and it is a golden rule for
Brigade Majors that they should always be the first to think of
things.

"Ring 'em up and ask," said the General. "Don't, of course, mention
the word 'raid' on the telephone. Call it--um--ah, oh, call it
anything you like so long as they understand what you mean."

At times, to the casual eavesdropper, strange things must appear to
be going on in the British lines. It must be a matter of surprise, to
such a one, that the British troops can think it worth their while to
inform each other at midnight that "Two Emperors of Pongo have become
attached to Annie Laurie." Nor would it appear that any military
object would be served in passing on the chatty piece of information
that "there will be no party for Windsor to-morrow." This habit of
calling things and places as they most emphatically are not is but a
concession, of course, to the habits of the infamous Hun, who rightly
or wrongly is supposed to overhear everything one says within a mile
of the line.