ow him right enough if ever you come up against him. He's a handsome man with black hair and no moustache, and he's got a scar over his right eye where he tumbled against the fender when he was four years old.
Yours without love,
SARAH PROSSER.
* * * * *
Illustration: Genial Pedestrian. "A BRIGHT MOON TO-NIGHT, CONSTABLE."
Morbid P.C. "YES, SIR. LET'S 'OPE IT DON'T DRAW THE FIRE OF 'OSTILE AIR-CRAFT!"
* * * * *
THE WATCH DOGS.
IX.
DEAR Charles,--As the men, for reasons best known to themselves, will suddenly chant on the march--"We're here because we're here, because we're here, because we're here," goodness knows when (if ever) we shall get to the Front; so this is yet another letter for you from the Back, where we are, much against our will, kept to deal kindly but firmly with the German invader as, home-sick and sea-sick, he alights gloomily on our shores. If, by the way, I have given hints in this correspondence as to the dis
