the top. Albert Edward's academy was situated in a small town where
schools are maintained by all our brave Allies; it is an educational
centre. The French school does the honours of the place and keeps a
tame band, which gives tongue every Sunday evening in the Grand Place.
Thither repair all the young ladies of the town to hear the music.
Thither also repair all the young subalterns, also for the purpose of
hearing the music.

At the end of every performance the national anthems of all our brave
Allies are played, each brave Ally standing rigidly to attention the
while, in compliment to the others. As we have a lot of brave Allies
these days, all with long national war-whoops, this becomes somewhat
of a strain.

One morning the French bandmaster called on the Commandant of the
English school.

"Some Americans have arrived," said he. "They are naturally as welcome
as the sunshine, but" (he sighed) "it means yet another national
anthem."

The Commandant sighed and said he supposed so.

"By the way," said the _chef d'orchestre_, "what is the American
national anthem?"

"'Yankee Doodle,'" replied the Commandant.

The Chief Instructor said he'd always understood it was "Hail,
Columbia."