[Illustration: THE BULL-DOG BREED
OFFICER: "Now, my lad, do you know what you are placed here for?"
RECRUIT: "To prevent the henemy from landin', sir."
OFFICER: "And do you think you could prevent him landing all by yourself?"
RECRUIT: "Don't know, sir, I'm sure. But I'd have a damn good try!"]
The Kaiser's sons continue to distinguish themselves as first-class
looters, and the ban laid on the English language, including very properly
the word "gentleman," has been lifted in favour of Wilhelm Shakespeare.
The prophets are no longer so optimistic in predicting when the War will
end. One of Mr. Punch's young men suggests Christmas, 1918. But 500 German
prisoners have arrived at Templemore, co. Tipperary. It's a long, long way,
but they've got there at last.
_November, 1914_.
The miracle of the Marne has been followed by another miracle--that of
Ypres. Outgunned and outnumbered, our thin line has stemmed the rush to the
sea.
The road to Calais has been blocked like that to Paris. Heartening news
comes from afar of the fall of Tsing-tau before our redoubtable Japanese
allies, and with it the crumbling of Germany's scheme of an Oriental
Empire; of the British occupation of Basra; and of the sinking of the
_Emden_, thanks to the "good hunting" of the _Sydney_--the first
fruits of Australian aid.
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