Volume 153 — WAR AND MY WARDROBE.
Reading edition
As I am not a banker or a high official swell, I never felt a pressing need for dressing extra well; And yet there were occasions, in days not long remote, When I assumed the stately garb of topper and frock-coat. But war's demands, if you desire to tread the simple road, Are somewhat hard to reconcile with the Decalogue of Mode; So I gave away my topper to the man who winds our clocks, With a strangely mixed assortment of collars, ties and socks. And if I haven't parted from my dear old silk-faced friend It isn't out of sentiment—all that is at an end— It's simply that the highest bid, in cash paid promptly down, I've had from any son of SHEM is only half-a-crown.
"The plots cultivated by the men who have learned in the best school of all—experience—stand out clearly among the others. There is no overcrowing on their land."—Evening News.
The truly great are always modest.
"Wanted, September and October, a comfortably Furnished House; five bedrooms, in adjoining counties."—East Anglian Daily Times.
It sounds a little detached.
THE COUNTERBLAST.
KAISER. "HAD A GLORIOUS TIME ON THE EASTERN FRONT."
HINDENBURG. "A LITTLE LOUDER, ALL-LOUDEST. I CAN'T HEAR YOU FOR THESE CURSED BRITISH GUNS IN THE WEST."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THROWING STONES AT THOSE BOYS?"
"IT'S ORL RIGHT, SIR. WE'RE LEARNIN' 'EM TO TAKE COVER FOR AIR RAIDS."