A figure clad in Lincoln green
Glide by them swiftly, thin as air;

And, yarning in the creepy dark,
Have told of arrows, cloth-yard long,
Whistling before them clean and strong,
Of Huns that got them, pierced and stark;

How when their line is making good,
In charge or trench, as Sherwoods can,
Soft-footed, ever in the van,
Stalks the bold ghost of ROBIN HOOD.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Mrs. Jones_ (_suspiciously, to Jones, who is kept on
strict rations_). "SOMEBODY HAS EATEN FIDO'S DINNER."]

* * * * *

=THE SECRETS OF HEROISM.=

"Don't talk about heroism," said Sergeant William Bingley, "until you
know what it is--and isn't.

"There were two men in my platoon over there that I'd match against
any other two in the British, Allied, or Enemy armies for the biggest
funks on earth; two boys from the same town, as unlike as cross-bred
puppies, but cowards to the ankles.