Punch, or the London Charivari

o'clock the General, supported by his Staff, rolled up in his car and stopped at Nijinsky's post on his way into "neutral" country. The General, the G.S.O.1, the D.A.Q.M.G. and the A.D.C. got out, shining, gorgeous and beflowered with foreign decorations, to chat to the sentry (you've seen pictures of it; it's always being done), Nijinsky, who had already turned back two innocuous Gunner Colonels (armed with sporting guns) that morning, sauntered up, drunk with newly acquired confidence, his rifle slung on his right shoulder and his hat over one eye.

"All well here, sentry?" asked the General, towering over him in all his glory.

"Pup-pass, please," said Nijinsky, ever on the look-out for some cunning trick.

"Oh, that's all right; I'm General Blank."

The word "General" recalled Nijinsky to his senses. He unslung his rifle, brought it to the order, brought it to the slope and presented arms with great solemnity, and as only Nijinsky can.

"Oh--er--stand easy," said the General, when the meaning o