[Illustration: NOW WHAT'S THE TROUBLE?]

[Illustration: WELL, OF ALL THE--]

[Illustration: HERE, HOLD ON--YOU WAIT FOR _ME_ NOW. HANG THESE FLIES!".]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Bosch_ (_downed after long Homeric combat_). "KAMERAD!"

_Pat._ "BE JABERS, 'TIS THE WORD I'VE BEEN THRYING TO REMEMBER FOR THE LAST
THREE MINUTS."]

* * * * *

ADMIRAL DUGOUT.

He had done with fleets and squadrons, with the restless roaming seas,
He had found the quiet haven he desired,
And he lay there to his moorings with the dignity and ease
Most becoming to Rear-Admirals (retired);
He was bred on "Spit and Polish"--he was reared to "Stick and String"--
All the things the ultra-moderns never name;
But a storm blew up to seaward, and it meant the Real Thing,
And he had to slip his cable when it came.

So he hied him up to London for to hang about Whitehall,
And he sat upon the steps there soon and late,
He importuned night and morning, he bombarded great and small,
From messengers to Ministers of State;