Punch, or the London Charivari

THE ROAD TO THE RHINE.

BUSINESS LEAVE.

Of course we know demobilisation is proceeding apace. We know that pivotal men are simply pirouetting to England in countless droves. We know it because we see it in the papers (when they come), and it is a great source of comfort to us. But since it is six days' train journey and four days' lorry-hopping from where we sit guarding the wrong side of the river to the necessary seaport, perhaps they have forgotten us, or they are keeping all the pivots in this area for one final orgy of demobilisation at some future date, which for the moment I am not at liberty to disclose.

At present my poor friend Cook is sitting in the Company Mess with his thoughts all of the inside of Army prisons, instead of the glowing pictures he used to have of himself exchanging his battle-bowler for the headgear of civilisation. He says I'm responsible for his state of mind, because I first put the idea into his head. Well, I did; but I don't see how you can bla