high-caste Buzzer--say, an R.E. Signalling Officer--why this should be
so, he will look intensely wise and recite some solemn gibberish about
earthed wires and induced currents.

The noises are of two kinds, and one supplements the other. The human
voice supplies the libretto, while the accompaniment is provided by a
syncopated and tympanum-piercing _ping-ping_, suggestive of a giant
mosquito singing to its young.

The instrument with which we are contending is capable (in theory) of
transmitting a message either telephonically or telegraphically. In
practice, this means that the signaller, having wasted ten sulphurous
minutes in a useless attempt to convey information through the medium
of the human voice, next proceeds, upon the urgent advice of the
gentleman at the other end, and to the confusion of all other
inhabitants of the cavern, to "buzz" it, employing the dots and dashes
of the Morse code for the purpose.

It is believed that the wily Boche, by means of ingenious and delicate
instruments, is able to "tap" a certain number of our trench telephone
messages. If he does, his daily Intelligence Report must contain some
surprising items of information. At the moment when we attach our
invisible apparatus to Mr. M'Gurk's wire, the Divisional Telephone
system appears to be fairly evenly divided between--

(1) A Regimental Headquarters endeavouring to ring up its Brigade.

(2) A glee-party of Harmonious Blacksmiths, indulging in the Anvil
Chorus.