Pauses when fighting's done
That make me lonesome and inclined
To think of those I left behind—
And most of all of one.
They're meant for me for choice;
There's rain outside, the kettle sings
In sobs and frolics till it brings
Whispers that seem a voice.
And, wireless, you can hear.
Cheer up! you know you'd have me stay
And keep on trying day by day;
We're winning, never fear.
I'm willing it should be
You'd never breathe a word to spare
Yourself, and stop me playing fair;
You're braver far than me.
The way it used to do;
And keep on cheery all the while,
Rememb'ring hating's not your style—
Germans have mothers too.
I'm coming home to find
The one who sent me out, ah! then
I'll make you (bless you) laugh again,
Old sweetheart left behind.
HIGH JINKS AT HAPPY-THOUGHT HALL.
[An inevitable article in any decent magazine at this time of the year. Read it carefully, and then have an uproarious time in your own little house.]
It was a merry party assembled at Happy-Thought Hall for Christmas. The Squire liked company, and the friends whom he had asked down for the festive season had all stayed at Happy-Thought Hall before, and were therefore well acquainted with each other. No wonder, the, that the wit flowed fast and furious, and that the guests all agreed afterwards that they had never spend such a jolly Christmas, and that the best of all possible hosts was Square Tregarthen!
But first we must introduce some of the Squire's guests to our readers. The Reverence Arthur Manley, a clever young clergyman with a taste for gardening, was talking in one corner to Miss Phipps, a pretty girl of some twenty summers. Captain Bolsover, a smart cavalry officer, together with Professor and Mrs. Smith-Smythe from Oxford, formed a small party in another corner. Handsome Jack Ellison was, as usual, in deep conversation with the beautiful Miss Holden, who, it was agreed among the ladies of the party, was not altogether indifferent to his fine figure and remarkable prospects. There were other guests, but as they chiefly played the part of audience in the events which followed their names will not be of any special interest to our readers. Suffice it to say that they were all intelligent, well-dressed and ready for any sort of fun.
(Now, thank heaven, we can begin.)
A burst of laughter from Captain Bolsover attracted general attention, and everybody turned in his direction.
"By Jove, Professor, that's good," he said, as he slapped his knee; "you must tell the others that."
"It was just a little incident that happened to me to-day as I was coming down here," said the Professor, as he beamed round on the company. "I happened to be rather late for my train, and as I bought my ticket I asked the clerk what time it was. He replied, 'If it takes six seconds for a clock to strike six, how long will it take to strike twelve?' I said twelve seconds, but it seems I was wrong."
The others all said twelve seconds too, but they were all wrong. Can you guess the right answer?
Fig. I.—To illustrate the Professor's delightful story of the booking-clerk's answer.
When the laughter had died down, the Reverend Arthur Manley said:
"That reminds me of an amusing experience which occurred to my housekeeper last Friday. She was ordering a little fish for my lunch, and the fishmonger, when asked the price of herrings, replied, 'Three ha'pence for one and a-half,' to which my housekeeper said, 'Then I will have twelve.' How much did she pay?" He smiled happily at the company.
"One-and-sixpence, of course," said Miss Phipps.
"No, no; nicepence," cried the Squire with a hearty laugh.
Captain Bolsolver made it come to £1 3s. 2½d., and the Professor thought fourpence. But once again they were all wrong. What do you make it come to?
Fig. 2.—To illustrate the Curate's ingenious problem of the fishmonger.
It was now Captain Bolsover's turn for an amusing puzzle, and the others turned eagerly towards him.
"What was that one about a door?" said the Squire. "You were telling me when we were out shooting yesterday, Bolsover."
Captain Bolsover looked surprised.
"Ah, no, it was young Reggie Worlock," said the Squire with a hearty laugh.
"Oh, do tell us, Squire," said everybody.
"It was just a little riddle, my dear," said the Squire to Miss Phipps, always a favourite of his. When is a door not a door?"
Miss Phills said when it was a cucumber; but she was wrong. So were the others. See if you can be more successful.
"Yes, that's very good," said Captain Bolsover; "it reminds me of something which occurred during the Boer War."
Everybody listened eagerly.
"We were just going into action, and I happened to turn round to my men, and say, 'Now, then, boys, give 'em beans!' To my amusement one of the them replied smartly, 'How many blue beans make five?' We were all so interested working it out that we never got into action at all."
"But that's easy," said the Professor. "Five."
"Four," said Miss Phipps. (She would. Silly kid.)
"Six," said the Squire.
Which was right?
Fig. 3.—To illustrate the Captain's thrilling story of the Boer War.
Jack Ellison had been silent during the laughter and jollity, always such a feature of Happy-Thought Hall at Christmas time, but now he contributed an ingenious puzzle to the amusement of the company.
