SHORT WAR STORIES.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XL, Issue 1885, 3 October 1918, Page 4

SHORT WAR STORIES.

WHERE, OH WHERE?

As the troop train halted, a big, husky negro poked bis bead out of the window and asked: “Hay, boss, what town you-all call dis?”

“Plainfield.” “And boss, what State am dis?”

“New Jersey—Plainfield, N.J.” “Well, well! Ah dun been travelJin’ on dis train fo’ foah days* an’ nights. Where de debbil am dis yere France, anyway'?” NOT TO BE CAUGHT. It was examination day at one of the R.A.M.C. headquarters. “And if a man suffering from trench feet were brought to you, how would you treat him?” asked the examiner. The recruit, a Londoner, with a good knowledge of the licensing law, quickly answered; “You won’t catch me that way, sir. We should both pay tor our own.” A PROBABLE WINNER. The colonel of a certain unit stationed in India proposed an “arts and crafts” compel it ion for his men during the hot season, when parades were impossible, (lie suggestion being the cause of much discussion amongst the men, and the following dialogue was overheard one night in the cant ecu: — First Tommy: “You ought to win this ’ere competition of ..the fide man’s,’ eh 1 ?” Second Tommy: “Why, what’s the idea?”

First Tommy: “You’re artful and crafty enough, ain’t ycr?”

CROWN PRINCE CALLED DOWN,

Some years before the war (lie German Crown Prince got a very neat call-down from .Miss Bernice Willard, a Philadelphia girl. It was during the Emperor’s regatta, and (he two mentioned were sitting with others on the deck of a yaent. A whiff of smoke from the prince’s cigarette blowing into the young lady’s face, a lieutenant near-by remarked :

“Smoke withers (lowers.” “It is no tlower,” said the Prince, jocularly; “it is a thistle.”

Miss Willard raised her eyes a trifle.

“In Unit case,” she said, “I had heller retire, or I shall he devoured.” The party saw (he point.

SUE KNEW BETTER

lie was a discharged soldier, who was out without his silver badge. Tim inevitable old lady sloppd him with the equally inevitable inquiry whv he was mil in khaki.

“Fm an old tjeal'orth man, mum,” he remarked.

“Oh, no, I know belter limn that,” she rejoined; “C 3 is the lowest category !”