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CANADA 


IN  KHAKI 


The   Net    Profits    of    this    Publication    will    go    to 
the  Canadian  War  Memorials  Fund. 

Published  for  the  Canadian  War  Racords  Office  by 
THE  NUSSON  BOOK  COMPANY.  LIMITED.  TORONTO 


The  Greatest  Work  of  Reference 
upon  the  World  War 

HISTORY  AND  ENCYCLOPAEDIA 

OF  THE  WAR 

Magnificently   Illustrated    1i>ith    Thousands   of   Photographs    direct   from    the    War    Areas, 

Portraits,  Maps  and  Diagrams. 

"  *  The  Times '  Illustrated  History  of  the  War "  stands  in  a  class  by  itself.  It 
is  the  product  of  a  body  of  world-famous  experts.  Written  by  the  writers  of 
"  The  Times,"  men  of  outstanding  ability,  each  an  authority  in  his  own  domain, 
produced  by  the  World's  Greatest  Newspaper,  and  backed  by  all  the  forces  and 
resources  of  its  unique  and  far-reaching  organisation,  this  History  provides  a 
Work  of  Reference  upon  every  phase  and  aspect  of  the  World  War,  indispensable 
to  those  who  wish  to  follow  intelligently  the  tremendous  conflict  in  which  the 
destinies  of  the  Empire  are  being  reshaped.  Accurate,  authoritatively  yet 
interestingly  written,  "  The  Times "  History  should  be  given  an  honoured  place 
upon  the  bookshelves  of  every  British  home. 

Numerous  large  Coloured  Maps  specially  iraion  for  this  Histor}f  are 
interspersed  amottg  the  volumes,  together  with  a  unique  War  Atlas 
and  Gazetteer  incorporated  into  Vol.  VI.  This  Atlas  contains  40 
new  and  up-to-iate  Maps  in  Six  Colours  {to  indicate  height  oj  land),  and 
a  complete  Reference  Index  oj  near/j;  14,000  Place  Names,  with 
other  features  that  assist  in  the  serious  geographical  stud})  oj  the  War. 

IN  QUARTERLY   VOLUMES 

at  prices  varjjrng  from  10/6  ($2.50)  to  £1   ($5.00)  per  volume, 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  binding. 

For  Complete  List  of  Prices  and  Full  Information,  address  The  Publisher,  Printing  House  Square, 
London,  E.C.4  ;    or  The  Elarle  Company,  St.  Johns,  New  Brunswick,  Canada. 


"Strops  Itself" 
as  well  as  a 
Barber  could 
strop  it. 


Perhaps  on  some  occasion  you  have  come  across  a  barber  who  has  given  you 
'  the  shave  of  a  lifetime  '-close,velvety-a  razor  touch  that  was  almost  a  caress. 

If    so,   it   was  because    he   was    an  exceptionally  good  stropper,  and  therefore 
had  an  exceptionally  keen  blade  to  shave  with. 

THE 

"VALET" 

iUitc^Slrop 

SafetyBazor 

will  give  you  every  morning  jiut  this  kind  of  shave,  because 
the  blade  meets  the  strop  at  the  very  angle  and  with  the 
very  pressure  which  will  give  the  keenest  shaving  edge. 
Moreover,  one  blade  will  Icut  for  months,  or  even  years. 
You  may  feel  that  in  using  the  "  Valet "  AutoStrop  you  are  com- 
bining the  greatest  shaving  luxury  with  the  strictest  war  economy. 

It  is  impossible  for  any  razor  to  shave  properly  unless 
the  edge  is  renewed  by  stropping  every  time  ;  so  the 
razor  which  can  be  most  conveniently  and  readily 
stropped  is  the  one  which  is  needed  by  the  man 
with  a  real  beard  on  his  face. 

THE  STANDARD  SET  consists  o(  heavily  silver-plated  self- 
stropping  "  Valet  "  Safety  Razor,  twelve  genuine  "  Valet  "  blades, 
and  "  Valet "  strop  ;  the  whole  in  handsome  leather-     01/ 
covered  or  nickel-plated  case  .     ^  xi 

Of  all   hlgh-clai3   Jealera  throughout  the  umrlJ. 

THE    AUTOSTROP    SAFETY    RAZOR    CO..    LTD. 
61.  New  Oxford  Street.  London.  WC.  I. 

And  also  at  New  York,  Piitis,  Milan,  Sydney,  Dublin,  Toronto,  &c. 

B     45 


Canada  in   Khaki. 


1^ 


\ 


JSn»M«BEasSa«if^ra«K2S:7,-: 


Canada. 

8th  Badge  IJrooch. 

1 5  ct.  Gold     £4    0    0 

IS  ct.     ,.     es  0  0 


Machine  GunC^jrp: 

BjdRc  Hroocli. 

Diamijnds  .set   in   P-iUa- 

'  diunr.  .(iold  and  Klianu'l. 


BY  APPOINTMENT 


Can.iJ.i. 

16th  Badge  Brnoch. 

15  ct.  Gold     £2    7    6 

ISct.      „        £3    0    0 


BiiKicli.  r>iaiimiuls-scf 
in  rallaJiuin..  (;.>KI  :uh1 
«■-  ;j'!n.iincl  .      ■   ■ 

'£30    O    O. 


yewellers 

and 

Silversmiths 

to  H.M.  the  King. 


RoyW  Flying  Corps  ,Bail(;e_Biooci 
l>iaJnonds  set    in    palladium*.  '^Goi 

and  ICrjauicl.. 

£65     0     0  ■■ 

■    .        "'      .  .   Ia 


?-«k 


T 


HE  Goldsmiths  and  Silversmiths  Company's 
Military  Badge  Jewellery  is  of  highest 
quality  and  workmanship  and  at  the  moderate 
prices  charged  is  better  value  than  is  obtainable 
elsewhere.  The  Badge  of  any  regiment  can  be 
reproduced.  A  catalogue  of  Military  Jewellery 
will  be  sent  post  free  on  application. 

eauTioN. 

The  Goldsmiths  &  Silversmiths  Company  have  no  branch 
establishments  in  Regent  Street,  Oxford  Street,  or  else- 
where in  London  or  abroad — only  one  address — 112, 
Regent  Street,  London,  W.l. 


GOLDSMI 

Company 


THE 

s  &  Silversmith 

■wifA  vH^ic^  IS  ineopporated 


•  a 


112,    REGElSrr    STREET,    LONDON,    W.l 


^ 


Picture  Offer 

To  "  De  Rcszke  " 
Smokers  only 


This  picture,  "  Miss  America's  Offer — Uncle  Sam's  Best,"  printed  in  colours  on  art  paper, 
13  in.  by  10  in.,  will  be  sent  free  to  any  smoker  forwarding  to  address  below  a  "  De  Reszke  " 
box  lid  and  2d.  in  Stamps,  mentioning  Picture  No.  JZ.  42  Miniatura  Picture*  will  be  seat 
free  en  receipt  of  reply  envelope,  ready  addressed  and  stamped  (id.).  These  are  reproduc- 
tions printed  in  colours  of  the  famous  "  De  Reszke"  Cigarette  pictures.  Address:  J. 
Millhofr&  Co.,  Ltd.  fDept.  89),  86  liccadilly,  I^ndon,  W. 


Miss  tAmericds    Off 67' — Uncle  Sams   'Best 

Your  boy  at  the  front  may  not  like  to  ask 
you  for  them — but  cigarettes  are  everything 
to  him  out  there.  He  is  worthy  of  the  best — 
so  send  him  some  "  De  Reszke"  American. 
They  are   the  world's   best  Virginia  Cigarettes 

SOLD    EVERYWHERE, 
or  post  free   from  J.  Millhoff  &  Co.,  Ltd.  (Dept.  89),  86  Piccadilly,  London,  W. 


De  Reszke 


rfie 
Aristocrat 


°j 


CiOarettes 


111 


p ^ 

THEROlALMAL 
STEAM  PACKET  Q 

(Incorporated  by  Royal  Charter  1839) 
MAIL  PASSENGEI16CARG0  SERVICES 


CANADA  AND 
WEST  INDIES 

BERMUDAS  BRITISH  GUIANA 

SOUTH  AMERICA 

SPAIN  PORTUGAL  MOROCCO 
ATLANTIC  ISLES  NEW  YORK  CUBA 
PANAMA   STRAITS  CHINA    JAPAN 

18  Moor^ate  Stred  E  C  T  r^NTP^r^M 

32  Cockspur  Steet  sw  L vJl  N  UvJi  N 

^iil"  SOUTHAMPTON  MANCHESTER  BIRMINGHAM  LEEDS  LIVERPOOLGLASGOW 


L-__« „ J 


IWatepmans 

From  an  almost  limitless  variety 
of  Waterman's  Ideals  we  select 
for  special  recommendation  the 
pens  illustrated — as  being  extra 
large  and  strong  and  therefore 
more  serviceable  and  more  suit- 
able for  use  on  Active  Service. 

A  Lieutenant  writes:  "I  feel  it 
my  duty  to  write  >ou  a  few  words  of 
praise  for  the  Waterman  Safety  Pen 
which  I  use.  Bought  before  the  war 
it  has  been  my  never-failing  friend. 
During  seven  months'  training,  sixteen 
months  in  France,  and  thirteen  months 
in  hospital,  and  in  Camp,  Dug-out, 
Trench  or  Hospital  Bel,  it  has  simply 
prove  1  invaluable  to  me.  It  is  tht 
pen  for  Active  Service  without  a 
doubt." 

Waterman's  Ideal  Fountain  Pen  is 
strongly  and  accurately  made.  It  well 
withstands  the  rough  wear  of  Active 
Service.  Its  supply  of  ink  cannot 
evaporate  or  escape.  It  always  writes 
at  once  without  blot  or  blur,  and  the 
reservoir  holds  sufficient  ink  to  write 
thousands  of  words. 

Ifalermaris  Ideals  are  made  in  three 
types;  Lever  Pocket  Self  filling  and 
Safety  T'pes,  15/-  and  upwards ; 
Regular,  10/6  und  upwards.  Of 
Stationers  and  Jewellers  everywhere. 


L.  G.  SLOAN,  Ltd., 


Fountain  Pen 


The  Pen  Corner, 


Kingsway,  LONDON,  W.C.2.        23/6 


N0.15P.S.F.    N0.14P.S.F 
(Lever  Pocket  .Self-filling) 


7/innAi>^ 
THE     BEST       ROUTE V^S 

CUNARD  LINE   - 

CANADIAN  NORTHERN  RAILWAY 

OFFER  AN   UNSURPASSED  COMBINATION 
OF  TRAVELLING    FACILITIES 
TO  AND  THROUGHOUT 

CANADA 

FIRST  CLASS  STEAMERS 
MODERN    RAILWAY  COMFORTS 
CHEAP   FARES 

REGULAR   SAILINGS  FROM  | 

LIVERPOOL     LONDON 
BRISTOL 

FOR    FULL   PARTICULARS   APPLY    TO  THE 

CUNARD        LINE 

CUNARD  BUILDING,       LIVERPOOL 

LONDON   5l,BISHOPSGATE,E.C,2   &   29/51,  C0CK5PUR  STREET,SV/,I 

MANCHESTER 98, MOSELEY  STREET  CARDIFF ,18A,  M  IGM  STREET 

BRADFORD 24-,CHARLES  STREET  SOUTHAMPTON   ...NISBET  *  FLAD6ATE,  I.CANUTE  R" 

BIRMINGHAM.....     117,  NEW  STREET  GLASGOW 30.  JAMAICA  STREET 

BRISTOL         65    BALDWIN   STREET  BELFAST 24. ROYAL  AVE  »  t-O,  QUEENS  SQ 

PLYMOUTH 1*2    MILLBAY   ROAD  QUEENSTOWN  CUNARD  WHARF 

CANADIAN  NORTHERN   RAILWAY. 

LONDON    42  45,riEW  BROAD  STREET  EC2  &  2l,CHARm6  CROSS,  5  V/,1  /^^A^ 

ttVERPOOL.    CUNARD     BUiLDlNG  GLASGOW      125. MOPE    STREET  /yO       .' *       V^\- 

vi 


CROW  BEAUTIFUL  HAIR  FREE! 

A  SUGGESTION  ALL  MAY  ADOPT. 

Distribution  of  1,000,000  Four- Fold  Hair-Health  and  Beauty  Outfits  FREE. 


HERE  is  a  great  opportunity  and 
a  valuable  gift  for  every  reader 
of  this  paper. 
If  you  desire  to  look  young  and 
well-groomed,  look  to  your  hair. 
That  is  why  the  proprietors  of  the 
world-famous  Hair- 
Grow  i  ng  Speci  fi  c 
"  Harlene  "  are  offering 
1,000,000   Outfits  Free. 

Here  is  a  suggestion  for  you 
to  adopt.  Send  for  your 
"Harlene  Hair-Drill"  Four- 
Fold  Gift  and  gro»»  healthy, 
luxuriant,  and  abundant  hair. 
Why  not  decide  to-day  to 
banish  hair  poverty  for  ever  ? 
Why  wear  aitenuatcd,  thin, 
impoverished,  lifeless  locks  of 
hair  when  all  the  rich  sparkle 
and  abundance  of  hair  in  its 
natural  healthy  condition  is 
yours  for  the  asking  ? 

ACCEPT  THIS 
WONDERFUL  GIFT. 

There  is  no  restriction  to 
this  gift  distribution.  Itissuffi- 
cient  that  you  are  troubled 
with  any  form  of  hair  "ail- 
ment," or  that  you  desire  to 
improve  the  appearance  of 
your  hair. 

The  Gift  parcel  comprises  : 

1.  A  bottle  of  ■■  Hariene," 
the    true    liquid    food   for 
which   stimulates  It   to   new   growth. 
It    is    Tonio,    Food,    and    Dressing    in 
one. 

2.  A  packet  of  the  marvellous  hair 
and  scalp-cleansing-  "Cremex"  Sham- 
poo Powder,  which  prepares  the  head 
for  "  Hair  Drill." 

3.  A  bottle  of  "Uzon"  Brilllantine, 
which  Rives  a  final  touch  of  beauty  to 
the  hair,  and  Is  especially  beneficial  to 
those  whose  sca'p  is  "  dry." 

4.  A  copy  of  the  new  edition  of  the 
"  Hair-Drill  '  Manual,  tflving  complete 
instructions. 

No  hair  trouble  can  defy  the  soothing, 
streiigthcnini;  effect  of  "Harlene  '  and  its 
scientific  method  of  application,  "Hair- 
drill." 

MILLIONS  PRACTISE   HAIR-DRILL 


"Harlene  Hair-Drill"  daily.  They  have 
tested  and  proved  that  this  unicjue  prepara- 
tion, "  Harlene,"  and  its  agreeable  method 
of  application,  "  Hair-Drill,"  is  the  surest 
way  to  overcome  alt  hair  def  cU,  and  that 
it  IS  also  the  easiest  way  to  ensure  the  per 
feet  growth  of  long,  silky,  tjeautilul  hair  in 
abundance,  glossy  and  bright 


lomt  ahuent  ft 
I,0«0,0O()  Fret 
four  nanu  and  addreu  and  4<i.  ttampa/br  rttum  pcHaoi 


kiy  pnuUee  ^  "  Htrint  Hal^Drm  '  leUt 
:  ioiu  Iua4  vl"^-  Friault  and  rdalienM 
Tru  Vifrttfir  OM  tealL.    Atmpt  ontuftlu 


,0U0,00»   fret  4-i'i.  <;t/l  iiutjilt  ofrmt  tu  iKulert  lo-iaf.     Mmplt  tmtCtupon  Mow  wUh 
"       ■  ■       mdpakMWlWKiil. 


the    hair. 


There  is  therefore  no  need  to  continue  to 
suffer  from 

1  Scalp  Irrltmticn. 

1.  Cmplata  or  Partial  Baldneu. 

3.  Thinning  or  Falling  Hair. 

4.  Splitting  Hairs. 

5.  Cvar  Craaalnsu. 
0.  Scurf  or  Dandruff. 
7.  Unruly,  Wiry  Hair. 

V'oung  women 
can  maintain  their 
hair  in  abundant 
beauty,  and  men 
and  women  of  more 
mature  years  can 
regain  all  the  lost 
lu>trc  and  health, 
whether  it  ari^-cs 
from  illness,  worry, 
oveiwork,  or  the 
passing  of  \'e;irs. 
THE 

"Harlene'  Way 


with  a  delightful  "Cremex"  Shampoo- 
there  is  no  more  pleasant,  invigorating  toilet 
exercise.  Then  sprinkle  the  hair  with  "  Har- 
lene," and  gently  massage  the  roots  of  the 
hair  with  y..ur  fingertips.  Then  add  a  lew 
drops  gf  "  Uzon "  Briltiantine  to  give  the 
hair  a  final  touch  of  brilliance. 

Prove  the  wonderful  merits  of  "  Harlene" 
for  yourself  without  cost. 
The  gifts  referred  to  above 
will  he  sent  you  imme- 
diately yon  post  the  coupon 
below. 

HARLENE  FOR  MEN 

ALSO 

Every  min  desires  to  pre- 
serve a  fresh,  smart,  crisp 
appearance,  and  in  this  re- 
spect the  care  of  the  hair  is 
es.sential.  The  Free  Gift 
Offer  mide  in  this  announce- 
ment is  open  to  every  man, 
and  they  will  find  this  two- 
minutes-aday  "Harlene 
Hair-Drill"  a  delightfully 
pleasant  and  beneficial  toilet 
exercise. 

After  a  Free  Trial  you  will 
be  able  to  obtain  suppli'S  of 
"  Harlene"  from  your  che.i.ist 
at  is.  1i<L,  2«.  8d.,  or 
4s.  9<t  per  lioule. 

"  Uzon  "  lirilliantine  costs 
la.  and  la.  e<L  per  bottle, 
and  "  Cremex"  Shampoo 
Powders  la.  tjda  per  Iwx  of 
seven  shampoos  (single 
packets   M.   each). 

Any  or  all  of  the  preparations  will  be  sent 
post  tree  on  receipt  of  price  di-ect  Irum 
Edwards  Harlene,  Limited,  20,  ZZ,  Z*,i§ 
Lamb's  Conduit  Street,  London,  W.C.I. 
Carriage  extra  on  foreign  orders.  Chequ.s 
and  P.O.'s  should  be  crossed. 


^^^^^^^^^~~^^^^^~^~^-^~^"-^^~  I      First  o:  all  cleanse- 
Millions  of  men  ai.d  women  now  practise  |  the  hair  and   sc.ilp 


hHARLENE  GIFT  COUPON  =i 

CDVC  Cetaoh  and  Post  to  EDWARDS' 
rr\L.L  HARiENE.    Ltd.,  20,  22,   24  and 

26     Lamb's     Conduit     Street, 

Lon  on,  W.C.1. 

I>ar  Sirs, — Please  send  me  your 
•■■ice  •'Harlene"  Four  Fold  Hair 
Gro»ing  Outfii  as  announc  d  1 
ciiclos.*  4i.  in  stamps  for  )x)staKe 
and  pack  ng. 

NOTE  TO  READER. 

U'ri  <     voNr    /'uit    *ami    and    ad.i'en 

U.t'l    on  ti  flAin  f^uce  of  tap«r.  tin  thii 

uurm  to    t.  .in.l  f-O't  as  directtti  abo\t 

Mf.i  *  t'ttfl-  rt   *SamHe  l}tf<i.'  \ 


^VE    BROADKIV   THE    MAP! 


IS  10,127  MILES  OF  INTERNATIONAL  GOODWILL, 

COURTESY,  EFFICIENCY.  AND  SAFETY. 

Travel  by  the  Canadian  Government,  New  Transcontinental,  and  G.T.P.  Railways. 
Wf  SEE    NEW    DISTRICTS    OF    CANADA! 
Special  LOW  Rates  'or  Officers  and  Men  going  home  on  leave;  also  for  their  dependent's. 

CONSULT    USF     THROUGH  TICKETS  BY  ANY  LINE  I 


Cook    pur  Strest. 
LaadanhaM  Straet. 


EUROPEAN  TRAFFIC  OFFICES— {tgKggKl.^i,  X^ 

FRED    C.   SALTER,  European  Traffic  Managfer 


LIVERPOOL,  20  Water  Streat. 
GLASGOW,  76  Union  Street. 


THE,    DOMII^IOIV  BAIVK, 

Head   Office:    TORONTO,   CANADA. 
TOTAL  ASSETS      $97,061,000. 

SIR  EDMUND  B.  OSLER,  M.P.  (Canada),  President.       W.  D.  MATTHEWS,  Vice-President. 

C.  A.  BOGERT,  General  Manager. 

London    Branch-73   CORNHILL,   E.C.3. 

J    HAYDN    HORSEY,  Manager  (in  London). 

Transjers  fcj)  Cable  or  Mail  ejiected  on  all  points — Canadian,  American,  and  Continental. 
DEALERS    IN    CANADIAN    AND    AMERICAN     EXCHANGE.  GENERAL    BANKING    BUSINESS 


TRANSACTED. 


INFORMATION   FURNISHED   REGARDING   CANADIAN   MATTERS. 


UNION  BANK 
OF  CANADA 

INCORPORATED  1865.     Head  Office.  WINNIPEG. 

Paid-up  Capital  and  Reserves   -  $8,600,000 
Total  Assets  exceed     -       -      $109,000,000 


=  Vhe    Sink,     hat    oecr     300   ^Branches  == 

=  in  CanaJa  from  Atlantic    to  Pacific,   and  = 

Agents  in  all  the  principal  cities  in  America.  ^=^ 

=^  Qeneral   Ranking  and    Exchange    Qjusi-  z^ 

nejj   transacted.       Letters    of   Credit    and  ^= 

^^=  "Cravellers'    Cheques    issued,    aoailable    in  '^rz 

=^^  all  parts  of  the  world.  

^  MONEYS  TRANSFERRED  to  and  f  om  ^ 

Canada  and  the  Uniled   Ma'ej  by  CABLE,  &c.  ^^ 

=  DEPOSITS  RECEIVED  at  favourable  rate..  ^ 

^^^  which  may  be  ascenaineJ  on  application  to  : —  ir^: 

=  London  Offices  :  ■-  ^^=^ 

I  6.  PRINCES  STREET.  E.C.2  g 

^  26.  HAYMARKET.  S.W.I.  ^ 

=  New  York  Agencg.  49  WALL  STREET.  = 


HI 


QUEBEC 

The  Province  of  Prosperity 

THE  war-time  progress  of  the  province  of  Quebec 
has  been  in  every  way  remarkable. 

The  amount  of  shipping  for  the  port  of  Montreal  — 
the  commercial  capital  of  Canada— was  last  year  the 
largest  in  the  history  of  the  city.  The  grain  export 
trade  reached  the  enormous  total  of  71.598,046  bushels, 
being  a  gain  of  66  per  cent,  over  the  previous  year. 

The  mine  products  of  the  province  of  Quebec 
showed  an  increase  of  32  per  cent. 

The  pulp  and  paper  industry  of  the  province  has 
made  enormous  strides.  New  plant  is  in  course  of 
erection,  huge  quantities  of  raw  materials  are  on  the 
spot  ready  for  use,  and  a  great  future  for  this  industry 
is  assured. 

To  Settlers,  Manufacturers 
and  Investors, 

the  province  of  Quebec  offers  unique  advantages  on 
account  of  the  abundance  of  raw  materials,  the  exten- 
sive railway  and  other  transport  facilities,  and  the 
great  harbour  accommodation. 

For  further  information  apply  to  the 

AGENT-GENERAL  FOR    QUEBEC, 
36  KINGSWAY,   LONDON,   W.C.2. 


.'iitiiiniiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniHiniiiMmiiiiin 

1  For  Active  Service 


1 


Radium -lighted  Watches. 

Here  are  miniature  photographs  of  an  Ingersoll 
Radiolite  Watch — in  the  light  and  in  the  dark. 
In  day  Hght  it  shows  the  time  just  lik-^  any 
other  watch;  at  night  the  hands  and  figures 
glow  and  show  the  time  clearly. 
The  hands  and  figures  are  made  of  Radiolite — a  wonderful  new  substance  containing 
real  radium.  And  it  is  the  presence  of  real  radium  that  makes  them  self-luminous. 
So  the  hands  and  figures  of  Ingersoll  Radiolite  Watches  glow  for  years — as  long 
as  the  watch  lasts — without  ever  having  ^^^^^  to  be  exposed  to  the  light. 


Waterbury 

"Radiolite" 

Figures. 

A  jewelled  viatch^ 
dependable  in  every 
way.  Very  suitable 
for  business   men. 


Ingersoll 

Wrist 

'Radiolite. 


With  cut  out  Protector  as  shown. 
I/-   amtra. 

~A  most  useful  watch — the 
^''/avoiirite  in  the  Services 
for  day  and  night  pnrp'ises. 


The  "Radiolite"  grade  of  luminous  material  is  used 
exclusively  on  Ingtrsolls,  which  ;ire  sold  by  thousands 
of  shopkeepers  throughout  the  Kingdom  ;  but  if  your 
dealer  cannot  supply  you,  any  Ingersoll  model  you 
wish  will  be  sent  post  free  upon  receipt  of  price. 

Handsome  illustrated  Catalogue  sent  post  fre» 
upon  request. 

INGERSOLL  WATCH   CO.,  LTD., 
128   Regent   House,   Kings  way,  W.C.2. 


Ingersoll  "  Radiolite." 

A  sturdy  watch  for  general  wear 
and  hard  usage. 

There  are  Ingersoll  models 
from  60/-  down  to  9/- ; 
"  Radiolite "  figures  and 
hands  5/-  extra. 


GENUINE 


WATCHES 
HAVE  NAME  ON  DIAL. 


iiiiiitiiiiHuiiiiiinitiiiiiiitiHiiiinniiniiiiiiiiiiiniiHiiiiiriiiiiuiniiiitiniiiinriittiiiniiiiiiHiiMniMiininiiininniiitiiniiiMiinini!iHiiiiii^ 

ix 


What  is   he  writing 
in  the  desert  sand? 


The  sign  of  the  Red  Triangle.  At  this 
moment  many  of  our  men  are  hoping, 
longing,  wondering — when  shall  we 
have  a  Y.M.C.A.  Hut  or  Tent  ? 

From  all  the  Battle  Fronts,  from  the  Base 
Camps,  and  from  the  Training  Camps  at 
Home  comes  the  same  demand  for  more  huts 
and  tents  to  carry  on  the  world-wide  service 
of  the  Red  Triangle. 


Will  you  help  to  give  our  soldiers  what 
they  want?  Apart  from  the  necessity  of 
finding  ;^6oo  every  day  for  the  maintenance 
of  the  present  work  in  over  2,000  Y.M.C.A. 
Centres,  there  is  an  immediate  need  of  more 
Huts  and  Tents. 

A  Hut  with  equipment  costs  ;^6oo,  and  the 
cost  of  a  Tent,  fully  equipped,  is  £2S°<  or£i  25 
for  a  smaller  size.  Will  you  give  one  if  you 
can  ;  or  help  by  subscribing  part  of  the  cost  ? 


£100,000  is  urgently  needed 


Try  to  realise  what  your  gift  will  mean  to 
hundreds  of  gallant  men, perhaps  to  thousands. 
A  link  with  home — a  centre  of  good 
influence — a  place  of  wholesome  refresh- 
ment  and    recreation    for  mind  and  body — 


a  haven  of  rest  and  peace  in  the  midst  of 
war — all  this  and  more  your  Hut  or  Tent  will 
be,  wherever  it  is  pitched.  And  the  boys 
are  waiting  for  it  to-day.  Say  that  they 
shall  have  it ! 


Please  send  your 
Cheque  to-day. 

Donations  should  be  addressed  to  Major 
R.  L.  Barclay,  Y.M.C.A.  National  Head- 
quarters, 12,  Russell  Square,  London.  W.C.I. 
Cheques  should  be  made  payable  to  Major 
R.  L.  Biirclay,  and  crossed  "  Barclay's 
Bank,  Ltd." 


!  POST    THIS    TO-DAY. 

I  To  Major  R.  L.  Barclay,  Y.M.C.A.   National  Head- 

J  quarters,   12.  Russell  Square,  London,  W.C.  1. 

I  I   have  pleasure  in   enclosing   £ towards   the 

J  Special  Work  of  the  Y.M.C.A.  for  the  Troops. 


Name. 


Address.. 
Canada  in  Khaki 


fiiummiiiiiHiiiuiiiiiHnmiiniiiiiniiiiHiniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiniiiiiiniiniiiiiiiHiiiiiiiuiiniiiiiiHiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiii^ 


P706 


-BEAUTIFULLY   CCX5L   AND   SWEET   SMOKING" 

Player's  Novg  cut  ToDacco 


Packed  ia  Taryiag  d«grc«t  of  atreotih  10  suit  «v«ry  cUh  of  ainokcr 

Player's  Gold  Leaf  Navy  Cut  - 
Player's  Medium  Navy  Cut 
Player's  Tawny  Navy  Cut 

PLAYER'S  "WUTE   LABEL"  NAVY  CUT 


Per  OM, 


8 


Id 
2 
Id. 


Also   PLAYER'S   NAVY   CUT    DE   LUXE   (a  development  of 
Player's   Navy   Cut)    packed   in    Airtight    Tins 


3-oz.   TINS 

1/9 


4-oc.   TINS 

3/6 


Player's  Navy  cut  Cigarettes 

HAVE   A    WORLD-WIDE    REPUTATION 

They  arc  made  from  fine  quality  Virginia  Tobacco  and  aold  i*  Two  Strength*^ 

MILD   AND    MEDIUM 

MILD    (Gold  Leaf)  MEDIUM 

100  for  4/6      50  for  2/3        100  for  3  5     50  for  1/9J 

24  for  1/1      12  for  6id.         20  for  8id.    10  for  4^- 

IN   PACKETS   AND  TINS   FROM    ALL   TOBACCONISTS   AND   STORES 

These  Cigireltes  (aod  Tobaccos)  are  also  saprlled  at  DUTY  FIEE  lATES  far  Ike 
purpose  o(  (ratatloas  distribulloa  to  woaaded  Soldiers  aad  Sailors  la  ■>ispilal 


'.Vpii«''.U!;?,-"    JOHN    PLAYER    &    SONS.    Nottingham 


Term*  and  particuUrs 
on 


I'.raiv  h  of  the  Imperial  Tobarco  Co.  (of  Great  Briinin  nnd  Iretand)  Ltd 


I 


riiiiiiiHiniiiiiniiiiiiiniintiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiini!mii!i!iiiitiiniiiiiHiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii:iin  jiiitiimiiiiiiii'i 

xi 


THE   VERY    LATEST- 


lADGE  BROOCHES 

OF   THE 

BRITISH  NAVY 
AND  ARMY. 

A  REMARKABLE  PRODUCTION.  ENAMELLED 
IN  THE  CORRECT  HERALDIC  COLOURS  OF 
THE     SHIPS'     AND      REGIMENTAL     CRESTS. 

Crests  not  already  in   our  List  can  be 
made  to  order— sketches  submitted  free. 

■W     Write  for  full  particular*.     *•• 


21/- 

42/. 


An  entirely  unique  production  in  g-ct. 
Solid  Gold  ;  fine  Enamel  finish  (as 
illustration 

15-ct.  Gold  ditto  

500  Designs  are  ready,  which  include 
almost  every  Regiment  in  the  British  Army, 
Colonials,  Territorials,  Yeomanry,  etc., 
also  about  200  Designs  of  the  Ships  of 
H.M.  Fleet. 


9-ct.  Gold  on  Safety  Pin        ^  1 9  /ft 

(as  illu-tration)  "         "  Ia/O 

Complete  in  velvet-lined  leather  case. 


Solid  Silver 
Gilt  Enamel 


2/6 
1/- 


In  velvet-lined  box. 
POST   FREE   ANYWHERE. 


BOTLY    &    LEWIS 

(Est  iblished  a  Century), 

Manu 'acturing    Jewellers,   etc., 

25,  KING  STREET,  READING. 

Actual  MaoLfictnrcri.        WhoUttle  Tradt  Supplied. 

Send  for  our  Illustrated  Booklet,  post  free. 
'Phone  172. 


The  n6w  Slyles  in 

PMis  Raincoats 

F  you  want   the  very    latest    style 
in  your  new  Raincoat,  ask  to  see 
a  "Philis,"  and     recognise   the   ex- 
clusive lines  on  which  these  garments 
are  cut. 

There  is   no  skimping   about    these 

coats — a    liberality    of     cloth,    well 

tailored,  and    of    wet-resisting 

properties,  which  keepyou  dry 

in  any  weather. 

There  is  a  style  to  »uit  your 
taste,  at  a  reasonable  price. 

Ask  your  relailei.  and  if  any  diffi- 
culty write  to  us,  the  Manufacturers, 
for  address  of  your  nearest  mantle 
house  slockins  "  Philis." 

Send  for  fir^  f aider  ahowins 
all  the  newest  atylea. 


A  Land  of  Fruit 
and  Flowers. 


Vast  Natural 
Rasources. 


Brltisl)  Columbia 

PRESENTS  MANY  OPPORTUNITIES 
TO  THE  CAPITALIST  AND  INVESTOR. 

A  splendid  Cliinate.  Magnificent  Scenery.  The  Sports- 
man's Paradise.  Excellent  Educational  Facilities. 
Wonderful  Deep  Sea  and  Inland  Fisheries.  Enor- 
mous Mineral  and  F"orest  Wealth.  Vast  Water  Powers. 
The  Canadian  Province  for  Mixed  Farming,  Fruit 
Growing,  Dairying,  Ranching,  Sheep,  Hog  and 
Poultry  Raising. 

Practically  Free  Lands  for  Settlers.     Blocks  of 
160  acres  costing  only  about  50/-  inclusive. 

Canada's  Mineral   Province. 

B.C.'s  Mines  have  produced  to  date  over  £100,000,000. 

A  World  Supply  of  Timber  for  a  World  Market. 

Eslimnled  stand  o(  Merchantable  Timber 
400,000,000,000  ft.  board  measure. 

Ful  In/otvmttofi  />«  of  charge  on  apf-licatton  to  Ike  Agent-G^-neral  for 
B.C.,  Bri'hk  Coliimhia  Ho<  m,  I  ami  3  Rceeitl  Slreei,  London,  S.W.I. 


of  every 
month 


Order  it  from  your 
"Bookseller 


The  following 
are  a  feto  of  the  Authors  Who  are 
noto  at  Work  upon  Stories  /or  The 

PREMIER 


MARIE  CORELLI 
BARONESS  ORCZY 
MORLEY   ROBERTS 
H.  de  VERE  STACPOOLE 
RAFAEL  SABATINI 
OWEN  OLIVER 
SAX   ROHMER 
W.  L.  GEORGE 
ANDREW   SOUTAR 
GUY  THORNE 
FRED   M.  WHITE 
HARRIS   BURLAND 
L.  J.  BEESTON 
Mrs.  BAILLIE  REYNOLDS 
AGNES  and 

EGERTON   CASTLE 
MAX   PEMBERTON 


The 


PREMIER 


Magazine 


p' 


I 


I 


C  OMBINE 
L  U  XURY 

aNd 


"^ 


CHE  A  PNESS 
AND    T  R  AVEL 

SPEE  D  ILY 


CANADA 

REGULAR  SAILINGS  FROM 

LIVERPOOL-LONDOH-BRISTOL 

FOR  FULL  PARTICULARS  APPLY  AT  THE  COMPANY'S  HEAD  OFFICE 

CUNARD    BUILDING,    LIVERPOOL 

LONDON 51  BISH0P8GATE,  E.C.2,  &  29/31  C0CK8PUR  ST.,  S.W.I. 


MANCHESTER 
BRADFORD      ... 
BIRMINGHAM... 

BRISTOL   

PLYMOUTH     ... 
CARDIFF 


98  MOSELEY  ST.        SOUTHAMPTON     /  NISBET  &  FLADGATE. 
24  CHARLES  ST.  I  1  CANUTE    RD. 

117  NEW  ST.        GLASGOW     30  JAMAICA  ST. 

24  ROYAL  AVENUE  & 

49  QUEEN'S  SQUARE 
QUEENSTOWN CUNARD  WHARF 


.     ...    65  BALDWIN  ST 

I  &2  MILLBAY    HOAD 

18a  high  ST. 


GLASGOW 
BELFAST 


OR    LOCAL    AGENTS 


DIRECT  FROM  THE  PACKERS 


¥'" 


EAT 


THE 


BEST  BRANDS 


OF 


SALMON 


WEE  sconiE 


PINK 


SALMON 

IS  THE 

MOST   ECOHOMICAI. 
MEAT  WeT  OBTAINABLE 


EAT 


BEST  BRANDS 


OF 


SALMON 


THE  RED  KING  (Sockeye)  and  WEE  SCOTTIE 
(Pink)  Brands  of  Salmon  are  the  finest  obtainable,  and  are  carefully 
packed  for  the  United  Kingdom  by  the  ANGLO-BRITISH  COLUMBIA 
PACKING  CO.,  Ltd.,  London,  and  Vancouver,  British  Columbia.  Repre- 
sented in  Vancouver  by  MESSRS.  HY.  BELL-IRVING  &  CO.,  Ltd.,  and 
in  the  United  Kingdom  by 

THE  BOWKER  COMPANY,  LTD., 
Liverpool,  London  and  Manchester. 


A  kingly  dish  from  a  loyal  land, 

The  best  of  food  for  the  best  of  boys, 

The  net  result  is  very  grand  ; 

It's  the  stuff  the  fighting  man  enjoys, 

For  it  gives  him  the  grit  to  make  a  stand 

Against  the  wiles  the  foe  employs. 


Can  be  obtained  from  all  Grocers, 
Stores,  etc. 

U.K.   Sales  Agents  :— 

THE    BOWKER    COMPANY,   LTD., 

LIVERPOOL.         LONDON.         MANCHESTER. 

Telegrams  :  "  Sockeye,   Liverpool." 


QAINtf;QIAIN  pACiriQ 


c 

I 

r 
I 


The  Empire's  Highway 


Operating  over  18,000  miles  of  railway,  the  Canadian  Pacific  has  the  most 

complete  and  far-reaching  service,  not  only  in  Canada  itself,  but  also  for  the  United 

States  of  America  and  Alaska. 

Fleets  of  Palatial  Modern  Steamers  on  Atlantic  and  Pacific   (Managers  and 

Agents :    Canadian    Pacific   Ocean   Services,    Ltd.),    connecting    Canada   with 

Eu  ope,  Asia,  and  Au5tralasia. 

Canadian  Pacific  Hotels  are  to  be  found  in  the  chief  commercial  and  tourist  centres. 

Lands  in  Western  Canada  and  British  Columb'a  for  sale  at  moderate  prices. 

Through  Tickets  at  lowest  rates  to  all  points  in  CANADA,  UNITED  STATES 

ALASKA,  JAPAN,  MANILA.  CHINA.  NEW  ZEALAND,  AUSTRALIA, 

and  ROUND  THE  WORLD. 

Fast  Freight  Services  from  Europe  to  the  rich   markets  of  the  New  World. — 

Ship  your  goods  via  C.P.R. 

PARCELS  by  DOMINION  EXPRESS  to  Canada  and  U.S.A. 

Head  European  Office  :  62-65  Charing  Cross,  LONDON,  S.W  1. 
67-68  King  William  St.,  LONDON,  E.C.4  ;  or  Local  Agents  everywhere. 


c 
I 

F 

I 


ANADIAN  PACiriC 


XVI 


The 


Car  in  Canada. 


No  matter  where  the  "Austin"  is  taken,  it  emerges 
triumphantly  from  its  tests.  The  car,  illustrated  above, 
was  the  first  English  car  to  make  the  journey  across 
Canada  under  its  own  power,  and,  throughout  the  whole 
time,  ran  without  trouble  of  any  kind,  surmounting  all 
difficulties  of  road,  hill,  and  climate  with  the  greatest  ease. 

fVe  are  always  glad  to  answer  inquiries  with 
regard  to  our  cars,  and  invite  correspondence. 

THE  AUSTIN  MOTOR  CO.,  Ld.,  Longbridgc  Works, 
Northfield,  Birmingham,  England. 

Depots  at    -     LONDON    -    MANCHESTER    -    NORWICH    -    PARIS. 


Send  today  for 

Gunner  WILL  COOK'S 
Latest  Successes. 

"Victorious  March 

— :     ot  the     : — 

Princess  Pat's." 

(MILITARY   MARCH) 

Fctored  by  ihe  CANADIAN   MILITARY  BAND. 
GRAFTON  HALL,   LONDON. 

"MARCH  of  the  FIGHTING 
ANZACS " 

(MILITARY    MARCH  &    TWO  STEP). 

"BUCKING  MULE   RAG" 

A  MUSICAL  "SPASM  "  with  >  'KICK"). 

"PARAPET    RAG" 

(A  SURE  "FRONT  LINER"). 

Piano  Solos  :  1/6  ,?.'.•>;_ 

ALL  MUSIC  LOVERS  should  add 
tkese  to  their  LIBRARY. 


WILL  COOK  &  CO.. 

Music    Publishers, 
21   Stamford  Road.  Daliton. 
LONDON.  N.l.  ENG. 


JOHN  PLENDERLEITH, 

NAVAL,    MILITARY    AND 
—  CIVIL    OUTFITTER.   — 


10   SACKVILLE    STREET, 
PICCADILLY,   W.l. 


Lawrie's  Bagpipes. 


THE   "SKIRL"    OF  THE   BAGPIPES 

was  heard  on  the  Heights  o!  Abrahiiii.  From  that  day  the 
house  of  the  Gae!  has  been  in  Canada,  and  where  the  Gael  is 
there  you  have  the  Bagpipe.  The  'indomitable  Canadians  " 
fighting  in  France  to-day  are  descendants  of  those  who  fought 
on  Abraham's  Heights,  and  there  sure  enough  the  music  of  the 
Bagpipe  cheers  them  on  to  Victory. 

LAWRIE'S  BAGPIPES 

are  as  popular  with  Canadians  as  they  are  with  the  Mqtherland 
troops,  and  few  Battalions  of  Canadian  Scots  are  without 
Bagpipes  of  Lawrie's  make. 

THE   TONE— THE  FINISH 

and  general  superiority  of  Lawrie's  famed  Bagpipes  have  made 
them  popular  at  Home  and  Abroad. 

R.   G.  LAWRIE  CAeta&l  Maker), 

60     Renfield     street,      Glasgow. 

LoadoD  :  164  Aide  sgaK  St.  Edinkar^k  :  62  HaaoTer  SI. 


Lovers  of  beautiful  furniture  will 
appreciate 

Rexine 

— the  perfect  uphoUtering  material. 

It  brings  the  dignity  and  beauty  of  a  leather- 
covered  suite  within  the  reach  of  everyone, 
for  it  is  only  one-quarter  the  price  of  leather. 
Rexine  looks  just  like  leather  and  has  the  same 
grains  and  colourings.  But  it  is  better  than  leather 
— wears  longer — doesn't  crack  or  peel — is  proof 
against  stains,  grease  and  water,  and  will  not 
scratch.     Even  the  children   cannot  damage  it. 

Before  buying  new  furnilure  or  having  yonr  present  >uile 
re-uphoUtered  ask  to  see  samplei  of  Kexine — it  ii  tlie  ideal 
covering  for  dining 
room  and  library 
suilei. 

//  you  experience 
any  difficulty  drop 
a  postcard  to  the 
maimers. 


<?.'.-?, 


REXINE  LTD., 
Rexine     Worki, 

Hyde,  near 
u  Manchester. 


Y 


~~rl 


S—  this  Trad*. 
Mark  in  purple 
•¥«ry  few  inches 
on   each    sole. 


Without  this 
Trade  Mark 
the  leather  is 
a     aubaiitttte. 


7M#  tn^fity  of  *'  ^'  ipf^"  availabU  to  the  publtc  is  greaih 
restricted^€Sf>rciaiiy  of  the  heavier  tveij^hts—  the  Government 
re^ui'  ing  the  major  portion  of  our  future  output.  H  V  invite 
}  0ttr  kimd  induigence  until  the  time  when  normal  c^uiitiont 
can  be  resumed. 


If. 


B3 


becauta     HE     raquires     Dripped     that     YOU 
have   difficulty   in   obtaining  it. 

And  if  you  hear  a  >oIdicr'.s  cvprritnce  of  Dripeii— -bow  it  keeps  his  feet 
dry  and  warm— you'll  be  well  content  to  wait  for  your  own  shaie.  If  one 
repairer  has  not  got  it.  try  another  until  you  do  gei  it.  It's  worth  while. 
Dri-pcd.  the  tupcr-lesthcr  for  soles,  it  doable  wcarloc.  abiolatclr 
watcrtiroof.  Uiht  and  flexible,  aoaiqaeakiac.  ooa-sllpplDff. 

"Dri-pcd"  Adverlisint  Dcp'..  Coontv  Bl'ts..  Caaaoi  St..   Maachcster. 
Sole  ManuUcturer^  W.  WALKER  &  SONS.  Ltd..  Bottoo 


Guaranteed 

to  stand  the  Test 

of  most  strenuous  wear  in  the 
roughest  area  in  ail  conditions 
of  weather. 


ior^ 


**  Direct  from  Scotland." 

will  satisfy  you  with  their  thorough- 
ness in  comfort,  At,  and  durability. 

Th4  '  Noruvlski '  Field  Boot  Miitary  Pattern 
{as  lllus*rated).  fs  one  of  our  most   poptilar 
designs  in  field  booCk.     Uppert  are  cut  from  best 
quauty  of  block  or  brown  pebble-grain  cal  skin ; 
watertight  tonffues  to  top  ;  tuuid-huilt  throughout, 
and  miaoe  exactly  as  illustration.     Three  thick- 
ne<4es  of  leather    are    uaed    in    the    uppers ; 
thi«    feature,    combined  with  our  s  lecial 
procew     of     stitching     and     finishing, 
makes  it  impossible  for  water  or  da«ip 
to  penetrate;  very  light     inC/, 
weighing.  lUv/ 

"Drl-ped"  ■olaa 

5/-  extra. 


D.  NORWELL  S*  SON. 

Perth,  Scotland. 

Onlcrs  sent  po«t  free  in  Britain,  foreign  poelaf  e  .«tra. 
B^  Writa  new  tor  Haw  Feotiitear  Calalogua.ip 


<P 


'Je?f^ 


Scientific  Aid 

in  the  Prevention  of  Disease 

Bacteriologists  have  been  wonder- 
fully sncc^sful  in  late  years  in 
discovering  and  isolating  for  ob- 
servation purposes  the  varioos 
mlcro'ori^anisms  which  are  re- 
sponsible for  disease. 

They  have  found  that  the 
microbes  which  cause  trouble  in 
the  throat  and  lungs  are  best 
met  and  defeated  at  the  point  of 
entry— the  throat 

And  they  recommeod  thai  when 
dancer  thrcalciu  in  cold  and  wet  weatlMr  or  when- 
ever th*  viuliiy  k  lovered,  ill  eOactt  Iroin  senn 
attacks  may  be  prevented  by  th«  sibject't  taking 

EVANS* 

fiastit/es 

The  effective  prccantlonarr  Dcainre 
afalost  the  miciobes  of  (aflacnu. 
Catarrh.  DlyhthtrU.  PataBoaia.  ate. 

Evam' PaatUaa  r  rvntihen  iba  vocafcfaorrfa,  aOar 

aiia|>rFTcnt  lrr1Ut.oa  of  tt>e  tliraat.  awl  kxnm 


any  it.u^ou^  sc 


:h  may  tw  prcvnt. 


The  Bmeittut  ir^utHta. 

twm  a  mierv^Mvrmfh  0 
the  tnicrv^x  laJben  at  »ur 
Rumom  l-^hermSerUs, 

IfAR.Wt.S'G.  -  Se*  the 
'•  raiitd  iur"  en  tach  Pa»- 
tilie.  i\*ne 
art  genutnt 
wUMotitthts 


TRKNCH 
ODOintS 


•%hl>..:is. 


l'.i-.tTi;r*  ar«  «[>'en-ti(l 

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CANADA  IN 
KHAKI   No.  2 


A  Tribute  to  the  Officers  and 
Men  now  serving  in  the  Overseas 
Military    Forces    of    Canada 


The  net  profits  of  this  publication  Will  go 
to  the    Canadian   War  Memorials  Fund 


Published  for  the  Canadian   War  Records  Office 

TORONTO 

THE    MUSSON     BOOK    COMPANY 
LIMITED 


\ 


A  FOREWORD 

The  warm  welcome  accorded  to  the  first  number 
of  CANADA  IN  KHAKI— the  entire  issue  of 
which  was  sold  out  within  a  week  of  publication 
— has  encouraged  us  to  launch  a  Second  Volume, 
which  we  hope  will  be  equally  favourably  received. 
Once  more  we  have  to  thank  the  many  famous 
writers  and  artists  who  have  so  generously  contri- 
buted to  this  publication.  The  copyright  in  all 
contributions,  both  illustrations  and  letterpress, 
contained  in  these  pages  is  strictly  reserved. 

THE  EDITORS 


1048013 


CAS  AD  A    IN    KHAKI  Page  I 


CONTENTS 


FAG* 


THE  CORPS  COMMANDER.    By  Capt.  Theodore  Goodridge  Roberts          .         .  5 

FAR  AWAY.    By  T.  A.  Girling 6 

THE  CANADIANS  THROUGH  BRITISH  EYES.    By  Perry  Robinson,  W.  Beach 

Thomas,  Philip  Gibbs,  Percival  Phillips,  and  Herbert  Russell     .         ."       .  9 

THE  SHORTEST  WAY  TO  THE  FRONT.    By  A.  St.  John  Adcock             .         .  19 

THE  RUNNERS.    By  Sergt.  L.  McLeod  Gould 20 

CANADA  IN  HUNLAND.    By  Frederic  William  Wile 23 

THE  CANADIAN  WAR  MEMORIALS  FUND.    By  the  Secretary        ...  25 

FROM  THE  LAND  OF  THE  GOLD  AND  SNOW.    By  Henry  Chappell     .         .  29 

THE  SILENT  TOAST.    By  Lt.-Col.  Canon  F.  G.  Scott 29 

IRRECLAIMABLE.     By  R.  S.  Warren  Bell 30 

WE  ARE  WINNING— BUT  SEND  US  MORE  MEN  I    By  Lieut.-Genl.  Sir  R.  E.  W. 

Turner,  V.C,  C.B.,  K.C.M.G.,  D.S.O .45 

HARVEST  SONG.    By  H.  Smalley  Sarson 46 

••  GONE   WEST."     By  F.  A.  McKenzie 4,v 

CHEERO :    By  Private  F.  W.  Daglish 56 

THE  STAFF  CLERK.    By  Sergt.  W.  T.  Knight 51 

THE  LUSITANIA   BEGAN    IT,     By  Max  Pemberton 52 

A  CINEMA  AT  THE  FRONT.    By  Major  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts       .         .         .64 

CHANCE  OR  DESTINY  ?     By  A.  B.  Tucker 6.^ 

S.  R.  D.    By  J.  Gordon  Smith 70 

ODES  TO  ARMY  FORMS.     By  R.  M.  E 72 

CHRISTMAS  DAY  ON  VIMY  RIDGE.    By  F.  A.  McKenzie  .         .         .         .75 

WINTER.    By  H.  Smalley  Sarson 76 

CANADA'S  THREE  YEARS  OF  WAR.     By  Major  F.  Davy         .         .  .81 

A  FIGHT  WITH  A  SUBMARINE.    By  William  Hope  Hodgson            ...  84 

YE  OLDE  MESS  TIN  SPEAKETHE !    By  Private  F.  W.  Daglish       .                 .  102 

WHAT'S  WHAT.    By  Captain  A.  Rocke  Robertson,  CA.M.C 104 

THE  COCKNEY  TELLS  THE   CANADIAN  SOMETHING i,,. 

THE  SWORED.    By  H.  Smalley  Sarson 10^ 

THE  KNIGHT-ERRANT  FROM   SASKATCHEWAN.     By  Donovan  Bayley  .         .113 

A   CANADIAN.     By  Jessie  Pope 126 

THE  CHUMP'S  IDEA.    By  Edwin  Pugh i^^ 


Page  4  CANADA    IN    KIIAKI 


PAGE 


THE  CANADIAN   ALPHABET 132 

EVERYTHING  OR  NOTHING.    By  Edward  Cecil i35 

THE  POP-GUN  PATRIOT.    By  Leonard  Crocombe i45 

YOUNG  MAY.    By  Jessie  Pope 146 

ON  RECEIVING  A  PIPE  FROM  AN  ANONYMOUS  DONOR.     By  R.  M.  E.       .  149 

THE  SNIPERS 156 

SOLDIERS.     By  J.  E.  Sime I57 

MAKING  THE  GUNS  AND   SHELLS.     By  Lieut.  G.  W.  Cavers  .         .         .         .164 

THE  TWA  DOGS.    By  W.  D.  Dodd 168 

IN  MEMORIAM  OF  A  GOOD   FELLOW.     By  Bdr.  W.  C.  C 168 

LONDON  GUIDES.    By  W.  Pett  Ridge 170 

BACK   FROM   FLANDERS.    By  Adrian  Ross 172 

AT  PEACE.    By  Colonel  Lorne  Ross .172 


LIST    OF    COLOURED    PLATES 

FACING   PAGB 

THE  STRONG  ARMS  OF  CANADA.    By  Byam  Shaw 5 

THE  SECOND  BATTLE  OF  YPRES.    By  Hon.  Major  Richard  Jack,  A.R.A.       .       26 
CANADIAN  LUMBERMEN  IN  WINDSOR  PARK.     By  Professor  G.  Moira         .       28 

TAKE  COVER  !     By  MacMichael 38 

WINTER.    Border  Design  by  Lieut.  C.  H.  Barraud,  O.M.F.C 76 

SIR  ROBERT   BORDEN  TAKES  THE  SALUTE  .         .    -     .         .         .         .94 

A  WAR-TIME  WARNING.    By  Thomas  Henry 104 

THE  RETURN  TO  THE  TRENCHES.    By  Dudley  Hardy  .         .         .         .138 

YOUNG  MAY.     Illustrations  by  MacMichael 146 

HIS  CONSTANT  COMPANION.     By  H.  Piffard .148 

THE    COW    PUNCHER.       By    Arthur    Heming 172 


THE  STRONG  ARMS  OF  CANADA 


B.v  Byram   Shaw 


CANADA    IS    KHAKI 


Page  • 


THE    CORPS    COMMANDER 

THE  WAR   CAREER  OF   LIEUT.-GENERAL 
SIR  ARTHUR  CURRIE.  C.B.,   K.C.M.G. 

By  CAPTAIN   THEODORE   GOODRIDGE   ROBERTS 


SIR  ARTHUR  CURRIE,  commanding 
the  Canadian  Army  Corps  in  France, 
is  a  big  man  with  a  big  command. 
Fortunately,  he  is  as  big  in  mind  and 
spirit  as  irt  body  ;  otherwise,  he  should 
not  be  worth  any  more  to  us  than  any 
two  ordinary  men. 

The  First  Canadian  Division,  the 
original  unit  of  the  Canadian  Corps,  is 
not  much  more  than  three  years  old  ; 
and  yet  the  Corps  as  a  whole  possesses 
battle  traditions  and  a  fighting  reputa- 
tion equal  to  those  of  any  Army  Corps 
in  the  field  I  make  this  statement  with 
an  assurance  strengthened  by  the  know- 
ledge that  any  officer  of  any  other  unit 
in  the  British  Army  who  has  fought 
with  or  beside  the  Canadians  will  be  glad 
to  confirm  it. 

The  Canadian  Force  has  grown  un- 
falteringly from  one  division  to  its  pre- 
sent strength  ;  and  Arthur  W.  Currie 
has  grown  unfalteringly  with  it.  He 
was  at  Valcartier  and  on  Salisbury  Plain 
in  1914,  and  commanded  an  infantry 
brigade  during  the  Second  Battle  of 
Ypres  and  other  desperate  and  vital 
emas-emonts  of  about  that  time  and 
locality. 

When  our  Second  Division  arrived 
in  llic  field  in  the  summer  of  1915,  he 
was  prun^nted  to  the  command  of 
our  First  Divisiur  During  the  follow- 
ing winter  the  science  of  trench-raiding 
was  brought  to  perfection  by  his  old 
briade  and  practised  ind'istriously  by 
hi-  whole  command.  During  those 
ni  iddy  months  opposite  Messii.es,  many 
brilliant  feats  of  arms  were  pertormed. 

The  Corps,  now  llirce  divisions  strong, 


moved  back  to  the  tragic  salient  of 
Ypres  in  the  late  spring  of  1916,  with 
Currie  still  in  command  of  the  premier 
division.  In  tlie  meantime,  our  Second 
Division,  under  Maj or-General  Turner, 
V.C,  had  been  proved  in  the  terrible  and 
prolonged  battles  of  St.  Eloi  and  the 
seven  craters.  In  the  salient  all  three 
divisions  were  employed  in  foiling  Ger 
many's  third  gigantic  and  unsuccessful 
attempt  at  this  point  to  break  through — 
the  third  terrific  assault  to  be  delivered 
and  the  second  to  be  faced  and  stayed  by 
Canadian  troops.  These  were  the  days 
of  Sanctuary  Wood  and  Mount  Sorrel,  of 
Armagh  Wood  and  of  Hills  60  and  61 — 
of  heroic  defence  against  overwhelming 
odds  of  iron  and  fire  and  flesh,  and  of 
heroic  counter-attacks — the  thirteen  June 
days  that  shall  live  for  ever  in  Canada's 
great  memories. 

The  Corps,  at  this  time  commanded  by 
Sir  Julian  Byng,  moved  to  the  Somme 
late  in  August.  The  premier  division  led 
the  way,  after  being  relieved  in  the 
salient  by  the  Fourth  Division,  fresh  from 
England.  The  fighting  and  conditions 
on  the  new  front  were  bitter  in  the  ex- 
but  again  the  Canadians  held, 
ground  and  held  again,  and 
Trench  and  Courcelette  were 
to    our    vocabulary    of    proud , 


treme  ; 

gained 

Regina 

added 

names. 

From  the  Somme  they  went  north 
again,  this  time  to  the  Arras  Front. 
There  a  formidable  task  was  to  be  done  ; 
and  early  in  April  last  we  drove  the 
enemy  from  Vimy  Ridge  and  the  fortified 
villages  and  woods  beyond — from  sinister 
positions  in  and  before  which  Frenchmen 


Page  6 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


and  Germans  had  died  in  scores  of  thou- 
sands, in  the  earlier  days  of  the  war. 
Here  the  Canadians  fought  throughout 
the  spring  and  summer  and  autumn,  add- 
ing one  important  position  after  another 
to  their  gains.  Here,  early  in  June,  one 
great  general  handed  the  Corps  over  to 
another — Sir  Julian  Byng,  promoted  to 
the  command  of  an  Army,  was  replaced 
by  Sir  Arthur  Currie,  of  the  old  division. 
And  still  the  good  work  went  on  without 
a  pause. 

In  the  fall  of  the  year,  in  rain  and  mud, 
the  Canadians  were  yet  again  recalled  to 
Ypres,  where  a  typical  Canadian  task 
awaited  them.  They  did  the  work.  The 
great  story  of  Passchendaele  is  too  fresh 
in  your  minds  to  require  a  word  from 
me. 

The  war  career  of  the  Canadians,  as  a 
division  and  an  Army  Corps,  is  one  with 
that  of  our  present  Corps  Commander ; 


so  in  roughly   sketching   the  former   I 
have  outlined  the  latter. 

The  Corps  Commander  is  a  great 
general.  To  be  a  great  and  successful 
and  trusted  general,  a  man  must  possess 
exceptional  powers  of  observation  and 
of  concentration.  He  must  be  able  to 
think  and  decide  swiftly  and  yet  without 
haste  ;  he  must  possess  unfailing  energy, 
and  an  intimate  knowledge  and  under- 
standing of  his  officers  and  men,  his  guns 
and  roads,  his  defences  and  his  battle- 
fields ;  he  must  know  his  ground,  the 
heart  of  his  men — ^and  his  enemy.  He 
must  possess  the  spirit  of  justice  and  a 
high  sense  of  duty  ;  and  always  he  must 
keep  the  one  great  purpose  of  his  being 
bright  in  his  mind — to  beat  the  Boche  in 
every  encounter  with  the  least  possible  loss 
of  life  to  his  own  courageous  battalions. 

The  Corps  Commander  is  like  that. 
T.  G.  Roberts. 


FAR  AWAY 


With  equipment  strapped  to  my  shoulders, 

And  my  rifle  close  to  my  hand, 
My  head  stretched  out  to  the  ridgeward, 

I.  wait  here  in  No  Man's  Land, 
'Mid  the  litter  and  lumber  of  battle, 

On  the  shell-churned  clay  of  France, 
Where  the  craters  and  crumbling  trenches 

Bear  the  signs  of  the  hoped  advance. 

I  wait,  while  the  barrage  lengthens, 

While  the  rifles  crack  o'er  the  hill, 
Then  the  bombs  explode  in  the  dug-outs, 

And  the  first  line  trench  grows  still, 
'Mid  the  crash  of  the  answering  shrapnel, 

Lit  by  signal  flares  of  the  Hun, 
As  the  final  waves  pass  over. 

To  the  tat  of  the  Lewis  gun. 

Out  here  in  the  rain  and  bluster, 

Thick  mud  on  my  khaki  form, 
I  wait  through  the  long  day's  battle, 

Through  the   night  of   the  snow  ai>d  the 
storm, 


As  the  fighting  surges  forward, 
Till  the  No  Man's  Land  of  the  past 

Is  a  place  of  quiet  and  shelter. 
And  reaches  its  peace  at  last. 

I  wait  till  the  burying  party. 

Shall  find  me  here  in  the  clay. 
Shall  loose  the  disc  from  my  bosom, 

And  take  my  poor  trinkets  away, 
Then  dig  a  grave  to  lay  me 

Away  from  this  weary  war. 
And  the  shell-torn  crest  of  Vimy 

Shall  cradle  me  evermore. 

And  then  in  the  roll  of  honoui^-o-*^ 

Just  one  feeble  flickejr*^  fame 
Ere  I  sink  in  thei^^  oblivion,' 
-    Will  be  writtf^  ^^y  humble  name; 
And  the  fighliCig  will  still  press  Eastward, 

To  th«  Ji^ctory  close  at  hand, 
But  I  sh^jj  jjg  dreamlessly  sleeping 
lk.  quiet  of  No  Man's  Land. 

T.  A.  Girling,  O.M.F.C. 


In 


CANADA  l\  KHAKI 


r<i<i> 


THE  MAN  WHO  LEADS  THE  CANADIANS  IN  THE  FIELD 


Lieut.-Genl.  Sir  A.  W.  Currie,  C.B.,  K.C.M.G.,  on  his  favourite  charger 

Canadian  Official  Phoiograpft 


Page  8 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


CANADA'S  HIGH  COMMISSIONER  VISITS  CANADA'S  FIGHTING  MEN 


Sir  George  Perley  has  to  don  a 
service  steel  helmet 


The  High  Commissioner  inspects  one  of  many 
captured   German   blockhouses 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  9 


THE  CANADIANS  THROUGH 
BRITISH 


TRIBUTES   FROM    FAMOUS   WAR  CORRESPONDENTS 

The  following  era  true  t»l««  of  the  Canaaian  troop,  in  battle,  »i»iaiy  and  brilliantly 
told  by  tho.e  famous  War  Correspondent*  attached  to  Br.ti.h  Headquarters  in  France- 
Mr.  Perry  Robinson,  of  the  Time.;  Mr.  W.  Beach  Thomas,  of  the  Daily  Mail;  Mr.  Philip 
Gibbs,  of  the  Daily  Chronicle;  Mr.  Pereival  Phillips,  of  the  Daily  Expnts;  and  Mr.  Herbert 
Russell,  of  Router's  Agency. 


"WE  ARE   ONLY   CIVILIANS" 

Mr.  Perry  Robinson  tells  of  the  modesty  of  the 
Canadian  Division  which  has  won  immor- 
tality on  the  Western  Front. 

IT'S  a  long,  long  way  from  Salisbury  Plain 
to  Passchendaele— from  Pond  Farm  to  Crest 
Farm— from  Bustard  to  Bellevae ;  but  at  least 
they    had    one    thing    in    common— namely, 
mud.     Oh,   that   fine  old  glutinous  mud  of 
West   Down  South  I     The  wallows  of  Lark 
Hill  1    That  knee-deep  stagnant  rivulet  which 
ran  from  Salisbury  out  to  Bustard,  and  was 
cheerfully  known  as  a  road  1     I  thought  of  it 
all   again   the  other   day,   when    I   had  been 
watching  as  much  as  a  spectator  could  see  of 
the   attack   on    Passchendaele   by   the   "Iron 
Sixth"  Brigade.    One  could  see  but  little;  only 
the  long  dark  ridge,  nearly  black  against  the 
dawn  in  the  eastern  sky,  but  all  aflicker  with 
the  firefly  flashes  of  the  British  guns,  while 
everywhere  huge  spurts  of  black  smoke  and 
mud  and  water  flung  up  into  the  air  as  the 
great  shells  plunged ;  and  overhead  the  aero- 
planes swung,  passed  and  circled  in  the  clear 
morning  sky.     One  could  not  see  the  indi- 
vidual figures  of  infantry,   but  as  our  guns 
continually  lengthened  their  fire  to  far  beyond 
the   Ridge  one   knew  that   the   infantry  had 
gone  on  and  had  not  come  back.    Then,  far 
up,  high  and  bright  against  the  sky,  tossed  up 
the  gallant  signal  rocket,  which  told  that  the 
Canadians   had   reached   their  final   line  and 
that  Passchendaele  was  cur--. 


On  the  way  down  I  stopped  at  a  dressing- 
station,  and  talked  with  the  wounded  as  they 
came  in.  And  then  it  was  that  I  remembered 
Busurd  and  Bulford,  and  all  the  rest  of  it;  for 
once  again  I  saw  Canadian  soldiers  muddy 
to  the  waists;  but  what  a  gulf  lay  betwctn 
those  days  and  these  I 

Though  knowing  Canada  and  Canadians 
pretty  well,  yet,  when  I  went  to  spend  a  week 
on  Salisbury  Plain  in  the  winter  of  1915,  I 
confess  that  it  was  with  the  expectation,  com- 
mon to  all  the  English  then,  of  finding  the 
Canadians  just  a  trifle  too  cocksure  arid  full 
of  swagger.  I  expected  to  be  told  how  you 
fellows  were  going  to  show  us  how  war  ought 
to  be  made,  and  how  you  proposed,  in  some 
few  weeks,  to  wipe  the  enemy  off  the  earth. 
Never  have  I  found  myself  more  mistaken  in 
my  life;  never  have  I  admired  men  more  for 
the  spirit  in  which  they  were  entering  on  a 
great  enterprise.  There  was  not,  in  all  that 
•  First  Division,  one  word  of  boasting,  so  far 
as  I  could  learn,  however  cunningly  I  set 
mean  traps  to  call  the  boastful  spirit  forth. 

Long  hours  I  spent  wading  through  that 
mud  and  talking  to  chance  men  amid  the 
slime.  Other  long  hours  at  messes,  and,  most 
fruitful  of  all,  yet  others  with  Battalion  or 
Brigade  Commanders  alone  in  their  tents  at 
night,  while  the  wind  shrieked  across  the 
Plain  and  drove  the  rain  in  fine  drizzle 
through  the  canvas.  The  old  British  Ex- 
peditionary Force  had  then  done  its  greatest 
work,  though  we  understood  but  dimly  as  yet 
how  great  it  was;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 


Page  10 

there  was  only  one  prayer  on  the  lips  and  in 
the  heart  of  every  Canadian  officer  on  the 
Plain  :  "If  only  we  can  do  as  well  when  our 
time  comes  I  " 

Every  officer  had  perfect  confidence  in  his 
men.  It  was  himself  that  he  was  afraid  of. 
"We  are  only  civilians,"  I  heard  it  said  again 
and  again;  "and  have  never  been  trained. 
Now,  on  us  is  the  responsibility  for  training 
our  men,  and  there  is  not  one  of  us  who  does 
not  know  he  is  not  competent.  If  only  we  can 
make  good  when  the  time  comes  !  " 

Well,  Ypres,  Courcelette,  Vimy,  Lens, 
Passchendaele  :  there  is  no  question  now  of 
making  good.  Not  many  of  the  men  I  talked 
to  then  are  to  be  found  to-day,  but  Canada 
and  the  Empire  owe  them  an  immeasurable 
debt.  After  every  fight,  in  speaking  with 
Canadians,  I  find  my  mind  going  back  to 
Salisbury  Plain,  to  the  endless  slush,  the  raw 
cold  and  driving  rains,  the  damp,  steaming 
interiors  of  the  little  tents,  and  always  that 
simple,  earnest  spirit  of  determination  and 
the  constant  prayer:  "If  only  when  our  time 
comes 1  - 


GIFT  OF  ORIGINALITY 

Mr.  Beach  Thomas  describes  a  characteristic 
raid  by  Canadians,  and  pays  a  tribute  to 
their  original  enterprise. 

SO  many  great  names  are  written  on 
the  escutcheon  of  Canadian  soldiers  in 
France  that  anyone  who  dares — as  we  are 
asked  to  dare — to  write  of  them  within  the 
space  of  a  paragraph  would  be  likely  to  suffer 
from  plethora  of  thought  and  facts.  Ypres, 
the  Orchard,  Courcelette  and  beyond,  Vimy, 
Hill  70,  Passchendaele — what  a  string  of 
jewels  with  how  many  facets !  So  in  despair 
at  the  thought  of  the  amount  of  material,  I 
will  write  something  of  one  of  the  smallest  of 
Canadian  adventures — a  mere  raid — and  per- 
haps it  illustrates  as  well  as  bigger  events 
what  seem  to  us  the  most  salient  qualities  of 
Canadian  soldiers. 

The  trenches  and  earthworks  by  Kemmel 
were  deep,  and  spick  and  span.     No  Man's 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 

Land  separating  them  from  the  Germans 
was  rechristened  Canada,  so  much  at  home 
in  it  were  Canadian  patrols;  and  their 
mastery  urged  them  to  overflow  the  boun- 
daries, to  pass  the  frontier.  A  raid — a  quiet 
raid,  without  help  of  artillery,  was  pre- 
pared. The  German  wire  was  cut  by  hand, 
at  night;  and  by  a  stroke  of  masterly  daring 
a  point  immediately  opposite  a  machine-gun 
emplacement  was  chosen  as  the  principal 
avenue  of  approach.  The  men  were  allowed 
to  choose  their  weapons.  One  lusty  smith 
selected  a  two-pound  hammer  because  it 
"came  up  sweetly,"  as  we  say  of  a  well- 
balanced  gun.  When  the  hour  of  attack 
approached,  the  Brigadier  came  down  to 
shake  hands  with  the  Thors  and  Heracles, 
equipped  with  their  hammers  and  axes,  and 
other  strange  implements.  I  will  not  describe 
the  details  of  the  raid,  which  is  old  history. 
Scott  said:  "One  crowded  hour  of  glorious 
life  is  worth  an  age  without  a  name."  In  this 
case,  just  seven  crowded  minutes — the  total 
duration  of  the  raid — were  worth  several  ages, 
and  under  a  cascade  or  canopy  of  friendly 
mortar  shells,  the  triumphant  band  came  back 
over  "  Canada "  near  twice  as  many  as  they 
went  over. 

The  importance  of  this  raid,  and  its  im- 
mediate predecessor,  was  that  it  was  new  in 
idea  and  in  execution ;  and  as  a  war  corre- 
spondent looks  back  over  the  Canadian  share 
in  the  war,  he  sees  that  original  enterprise  is 
the  supreme  gift  of  Canada  to  the  whole 
British  and,  indeed.  Allied  Army.  Every 
attack  has  had  originality :  the  rapid  exten- 
sion of  the  programme  by  which  Courcelette 
was  captured,  the  turning  of  the  German  guns 
against  the  Germans  at  Vimy,  the  dodging  of 
the  marshes  at  Passchendaele — scores  of  little 
instances  could  be  quoted.  -Perhaps  at  first 
the  originality  was  excessive.  Personally,  I 
never  hated  anyone's  originality  so  much  as 
the  method  of  a  young  Canadian  guide  dur- 
ing my  very  first  visit  to  the  trenches.  He 
seemed  to  regard  trenches  as  unpleasant  and 
unnecessary  things  designed  for  cowards. 
Therefore,  with  characteristically  youthful 
and  Canadian  daring,  he  took  me  in  the  open 
across  the  top  of  the  hill — it  was  Hill  63 — and 
pointed  out  leisurely  the  fat  Germans  in  their 


{ 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  11 


_Pm  WEDNE5 
-DAY 


By  Lint.  C.  11.  liifrmiil,  0,.V.F.C 


S'lORY   OF  CANADA  GRUNDY 


Page  18 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


trenches  just  across  the  way.  Five  minutes 
.ater  we  were  smothered  with  mud  from  the 
first  of  a  rapid  series  of  shells  from  sniping 
cannon  behind  Messines.  Then  even  that 
young  guide  reluctantly  took  to  the  refuge  of 
a  dirty  ditch.  But  to-day  the  excesses  of 
originality  have  fallen  away  without  loss  of 
dash.  No  one  attacks  more  carefully  or  digs 
better  defences  than  Canadian  troops,  though 
still  their  genius  lies  in  assault.  The  brigade 
that  I  know  best  calls  itself  "the  Iron  — th," 
and  the  whole  Canadian  corps  is  an  iron 
corps,  in  the  French  sense  of  the  term. 
Never  did  the  English  gift  of  tenacity  find  a 
better  complement.  The  new  world  is  "re- 
dressing the  balance  of  the  old  "  along  our 
front  in  France  as  on  other  fields,  and  is  itself 
in  turn  gaining  equipoise  from  contact  with 
"the  Tommy  officer,"  whose  gift  of  order  and 
discipline  has  now  perhaps  won  full  recog- 
nition even  with  the  youngest  of  the  new 
world. 


THE  FRIGHTFULNESS  OF  THE 
BATTLE  OF  LENS 

Mr.  Philip  Gibbs  tells  how  the  Canadians  fought 
a  hard,  bloody  fight  for  months  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  city. 

I  MET  the  Canadians  first  in  the  old  bad 
places  of  the  Ypres  salient,  where  in  those 
early  days  of  the  war  there  was  hard,  tragic 
fighting — for  we  were  horribly  outgunned — 
and  nothing  to  show  for  it  except  the  all-en- 
during courage  of  our  men.  In  those  long 
months  of  trench  warfare — it  seemed  as 
though  the  Western  Front  would  always  be 
like  that — these  Canadian  soldiers  proved 
their  quality.  They  were  stubborn  in  defence 
and  cunning  in  attacks  across  No  Man's 
i^and,  and  gave  the  enemy  no  rest  for  his 
nerves,  and  our  English  lads  said  :  "Those 
Canadian  chaps  are  hot  stuff;  they  worry  old 
Fritz  something  awful." 

At  Courcelette,  on  the  Somme,  they  did 
more  than  worry  the  enemy.  In  a  great  ad- 
vance of  wave  after  wave  of  men  they  smashed 
the  enemy  out  of  his  defences,  destroyed  his 


machine-gun  emplacements,  and  after  a  fine  ^ 
stroke  of  generalship  at  a  critical  moment  of 
the  day,  when  the  French-Canadians  attacked 
at  a  late  hour  after  a  forced  march  and  com- 
pleted a  brilliant  victory,  they  repelled  and  ' 
shattered,  that  same  night,  seven  desperate 
counter-attacks.  The  winter  of  'sixteen 
passed  on  the  Somme  and  round  about  Cour- 
celette, and  the  Canadians  held  their  lines, 
suffering  great  hardships,  sometimes  great 
agonies,  in  frost  and  snow  and  rain  and  mud, 
and  never-ending  shell-fire.  Then  the  spring 
of  'seventeen  came  and  that  day  in  April, 
which  I  for  one  will  never  forget,  when  the 
Canadians,  with  Highland  troops  on  their 
right,  attacked  the  Vimy  ridge,  and  in  a  few 
hours  captured  that  great  natural  fortress, 
with  all  its  tunnels  and  deep  dug-outs  and 
concrete  "pillboxes"  and  trenches,  and  sent 
thousands  of  prisoners  back  into  the  valley 
below. 

It  was  one  of  the  greatest  victories  in  the 
history  of  British  arms,  and  when  I  went  up 
among  the  Canadians  that  day  and  afterwards 
I  saw  how  the  spirit  of  the  men  was  on  fire 
with  the  glory  of  it.  They  came  laughing 
out  of  the  battle.  The  enormous  number  of 
their  prisoners  seemed  a  joke  to  them.  The 
scene  below  the  Vimy  ridge  among  the  hos- 
pital tents  and  the  wagon  lines  and  the  am- 
munition dumps  was  like  a  festival,  though 
shells  came  into  the  middle  of  it  from  long- 
range  guns,  as  one  morning  a  day  or  two  later 
when  a  Canadian  band  was  playing  and  a 
new  batch  of  prisoners  came  marching  down 
to  La  Targette. 

Crash!  came  a  five-point-nine,  and  it  was 
the  first  of  a  series.  The  prisoners  ran  for 
their  lives.  The  wounded  were  moved  to  a 
safer  spot.  But  the  band  went  on  playing, 
and  Canadian  soldiers  stood  around,  whistling 
to  the  tunes  of  it,  a  few  hundred  yards  from 
where  the  shells  were  falling.  There  was 
some  bloody  fighting  on  the  other  side  of  the  ' 
ridge  by  Oppy  and  Arleux  and  Fresnov,  and 
then  began  the  great  siege  of  Lens,  which  in 
my  judgment  will  be  the  most  memorable 
chapter  in  the  history  of  the  Canadian  troops 
in  France.  Lens,  with  all  its  outlying 
suburbs  of  Li^vin  and  .Angresand  Avion,  and 
the    mining   "rites"    of   St.    Pierre    and    St 


CANADA    /iV    KHAKI 


Pane  13 


Laurent  and  St.  Augusie,  with  its  slag  heaps 
and  pit  heads  and  mining  shafts  and  water 
towers  and  power  stations,  was  one  great 
fortress  tunnelled  from  street  to  street,  with 
every  miner's  cottage  concreted  and  sand- 
bagged, with  machine-gun  emplacements 
scattered  all  over  this  region  in  frightful 
numbers,  with  field  guns  hidden  in  the 
houses  and  back  yards,  and  heavy  guns  sur- 
rounding it.  The  Canadians  invested  Lens 
closely,  forced  the  enemy  to  retreat  out  of 
Li^vin,  followed  him  closely,  smashed  him 
out  of  the  Cit^  St.  Pierre  and  other  suburbs, 
stormed  the  Bois  de  Riaumont  in  the  south. 

I  watched  the  attack  on  a  summer  after- 
noon, and  later  it  swept  over  Hill  70,  which 
guarded  the  northern'  gateway.  It  was  all 
close,  hard,  grim,  bloody  fighting.  They 
fought  from  house  to  house,  and  in  the  cellars 
and  tunnels  and  over  trenches  dug  across  the 
streets.  Two  battalions  met  the  enemy  out  in 
No  Man's  Land,  and  fought  with  rifle  and 
bomb  and  bayonet  until  there  were  few  men 
left  standing  on  either  side.  They  broke 
through  the  walls  of  houses  from  which 
machine-gun  (ire  came  in  steady  blasts,  and 
in  the  darkness  below  ground  killed  men  like 
rats.  They  soaked  the  city  of  Lens  in  poison 
gas  day  after  day  and  night  after  night  in 
return  for  the  gas  which  was  poured  over 
their  own  batteries  and  into  their  own  cellars, 
so  that  men  perpetually  wore  their  gas  masks 
and  fought  in  them. 

This  siege  of  Lens  is  the  most  frightful 
episode  of  warfare  on  the  Western  Front,  and 
did  not  last  for  a  few  weeks  only  but  for 
months.  Many  times  I  went  to  the  Vimy 
ridge  to  stare  down  upon  that  city  of  death. 
On  Hill  70  I  saw  the  German  dead  and 
the  hideous  wreckage  of  the  battle.  And  in 
the  ruins  of  the  mining  suburbs  I  met  the 
Canadian  soldiers  who  had  been  fighting  like 
this,  and  were  blanched  and  haggard  and 
worn  by  that  cellar  life  and  the  awful  ordeal 
of  it. 

Blanched  and  haggard  and  worn,  but 
with  never  any  weakening  of  the  grim  brave 
spirit  in  them.  After  the  capture  of  Hill 
70  I  bent  over  a  man  on  a  stretcher  who 
was  badly  wounded  in  the  thigh.  "How  did 
jou  get  on?"  I  asked.     He  looked  up  and 


grinned,  and  said  an  amazing  thing  to  me. 
"1  enjoyed  myself  this  morning,  sir.  It  was 
a  fair  treat.  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  the 
world."  He  had  a  hole  in  his  leg  as  big  as 
my  fist,  and  men  had  been  killed  on  each  side 
of  him.  That  is  the  spirit  of  the  Canadian 
soldiers,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  enemy 
is  afraid  of  them,  and  has  a  great  hatred  of 
them.  In  attack  they  are  terrific,  ahd  in 
defence  immovable. 


"HELL  ALL  ALIGHT":    AN    EPIC 
OF   PASSCHENDAELE 

Mr.  Percival  Phillips  graphically  describes  how 
the  grim  soldiers  from  Overseas  settled  an 
old  account  with  Fritz. 

HE  limped  into  the  sand-bagged  dressing- 
station  by  Ypres,  a  muddy,  tired, 
rather  pathetic  figure  in  blood-stained  band- 
ages. A  wounded  man  on  the  nearest  bench 
greeted  him  as  "Bill."  Under  his  uninjured 
arm  he  hugged  a  German  magazine  pistol, 
and  of  this  trophy  he  spoke  in  a  husky 
whisper,  between  puffs  of  a  dying  cigarette. 

"It's  a  new  one,"  he  said,  handing  the 
pistol  to  his  comrade. 

"We  went  through  the  bloody  village,"  he 
continued,  "right  through  Passchendaele, 
and  over  the  hill  like  all  hell  alight;  the  devil 
himself  couldn't  have  stopped  us.  .  .  .  Hand 
us  a  cup  of  that  tea;  my  throat's  damned 
near  cracked." 

I  give  this  unedited  narrative  of  victory  to 
show  the  Canadian  spirit  that  conquered 
Passchendaele— the  climax  of  weeks  of  weary 
fighting  in  the  swamps  of  Flanders.  No 
human  power  could  stay  the  rush  of  confident 
Dominion  men  across  that  pile  of  concreted 
rubble  on  the  ridge  above  Ypres.  They 
swept  over  machine-guns  and  masonry,  and 
scattered  the  Huns  like  sheep.  It  was  the 
same  fine,  steadfast  courage  which  carried 
them  through  Courcelette  and  up  the  scarred 
face  of  Vimy,  and  through  the  slag  and  pit- 
heads to  the  gate  of  broken  Lens. 

Passchendaele  means  more  to  Canada  than 
the  victories  of  the  past.    It  was  the  settlement 


Page  14 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


of  an  old  account,  dating  from  the  first  days 
of  the  Dominion  campaign  in  Belgium.  Her 
men  have  never  forgotten  the  second  battle  of 
Ypres.  Two  and  a  half  years  ago  the  first 
little  band  of  Canadian  soldiers,  hemmed  in 
by  the  most  powerful  army  the  world  had  ever 
seen,  fought  stubbornly  every  foot  of  their 
leluctant  journey  back  into  the  plain  of 
Ypres — the  heroes  of  a  splendid  failure.  It 
was  right  that  they  should  come  again  to  that 
historic  battleground  when  the  Hun  had 
fallen  on  evil  days — fitting  that  the  crest  of  his 
defeat  should  be  a  Canadian  triumph  on  the 
slopes  they  lost. 

The  Canadians  left  Lens  perhaps  a  little 
unwillingly.  Every  soldier  who  fought 
among  the  collieries  in  the  heat  and  dust  of 
summer  hoped  to  share  in  a  greater  victory. 
Lens  was  a  Canadian  "claim."  But  they 
answered  the  summons  with  alacrity — I  do 
not  think  a  man  among  them  grumbled — and 
when  they  found  that  they  were  destined  to 
take  back  the  ground  they  once  held  above 
the  Yser  marshes  they  rejoiced. 

I  saw  them  marching  northward  into 
Flanders;  I  talked  with  their  officers,  and 
heard  from  all  of  them  the  same  words  of 
absolute  confidence.  They  knew  the  task 
before  them  would  be  fulfilled.  They  came 
mto  the  mud  and  marshes;  the  heavens 
opened,  and  they  were  tramping  again 
through  the  desert  place  called  Ypres,  with 
the  rain  dripping  from  their  metal  hats,  but 
serenely  sure  of  the  future. 

That  same  confidence  was  apparent  in  many 
ways,  in  many  places.  You  would  have  seen 
it,  as  I  did,  in  their  Corps  Commander  on  one 
morning  of  battle,  as  he  paced  slowly,  de- 
liberately up  and  down  the  narrow  footway 
outside  his  hut,  his  hands  locked  behind  him; 
halting  now  and  again  to  hear  the  news  from 
a  bareheaded  staff  officer,  and  resuming  his 
'aim  promenade  forward  and  back  between 
he  trees.  It  was  apparent  in  the  battle  head- 
quarters underground,  where  other  Canadian 
commanders  followed  the'  steady  progress  of 
little  flags  over  their  maps  by  the  light  of  a 
kitchen  lamp.  It  found  expression  in  the 
words  of  another  general  whose  battalions 
were  cast  for  the  final  act  in  this  great  drama. 
I  saw  him  on  the  eve  of  battle,  and  he  said  to 


me:  "They  will  do  it;  give  them  a  footing 
for  the  '  kick-off,'  and  they  will  take  Passchen- 
daele.     I  know  them." 

They  did  not  fail  him.'  Crouching  in  his 
noisome  German  dug-out  among  the  craters 
— four  feet  of  head  room  and  a  sawed-off  stool 
for  his  chair — he  heard  the  story  of  their 
progress  without  surprise,  one  might  almost 
say  without  elation.  The  runners  brought 
piecemeal  the  story  of  a  "clockwork "  ad- 
vance; at  the  appointed  moment  flares  shone 
among  the  clouds  above  the  furrowed  ridge; 
Passchendaele  was  theirs. 

"Good  lads,"  said  the  General,  "I  knew 
they  would  do  it." 

Two  and  a  half  years  of  war  have  altered 
the  first  Canadian  battlefield.  The  men  who 
came  back  did  not  know  it.  Polygon  Wood 
of  bitter  memories  was  only  a  naked  mound ; 
the  timbered  slopes  about  it  had  vanished  in 
the  storm ;  of  the  trim  Flemish  villages  that 
lay  between  them  not  a  vestige  remained — 
Zonnebeke,  Poelecappelle,  Passchendaele — all 
wiped  away.  The  victors  of  the  ridge  found 
only  naked  brown  hills  and  dead  valleys 
pitted  with  shell-holes  and  patches  of  foul 
water,  without  one  green  spot  or  the  sign  of 
any  living  thing  on  the  ground  they  trod. 

But  the  tenants  of  this  evil  place  had  not 
forgotten  the  Canadians.  High  explosive  had 
wiped  away  the  face  of  the  battlefield,  but  not 
the  tradition  that  these  grim  soldiers  from 
overseas  were  foes  to  be  respected  and  feared. 
Canada  left  her  mark  on  the  mind  of  the  Hun. 
I  found  it  in  one  miserabjle  Prussian,  snatched 
alive  from  a  reeking  dug-out  in  Passchen- 
daele, while  the  eastern  slope  was  swarming 
with  fugitives.  "We  knew  the  Canadians 
were  going  to  attack,"  he  said.  .  .  .  "They 
are  very  terrible  men." 

Passchendaele  was  more  than  a  victory;  it 
was  retribution.  The  gaunt  British  Colum- 
bian, fingering  his  captured  revolver  as  he 
waited  in  the  queue  of  wounded,  voiced  this 
thought.  "We  settled  them,"  he  said,  in  his 
hoarse  whisper;  "they  wouldn't  stay  to  meet 
us.    They  knew  they  were  '  for  it.' " 

"What  are  you?''  I  asked. 

He  winked  one  bloodshot  eye. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I'm  one  of  Kitchener's 
men." 


CAS  ADA  I\  KHAKI 


Page  15 


By  IC.  Heath  Eobinson 
CAMOUFLAGE  FOR  THE  PROTECTION  OF  OUR  HOME  DEFENCES 


Page  16 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


Tommy : 
Jimmy:     "Well 


THE  BOMBING   PARTY 

That's  a  nasty  cough   poor  old  Fritz  has  got. 

the  cough  ain't   goin'  to  worry  "im  much  longer. 


By  Will  Owen 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  17 


HOW  THE  CANADIANS  CAME  TO 
THE   MOTHERLAND 

Mr.  Herbert  RusselPs  impression  of  a  wonderful 
scene  at  Plymouth  that  looked  like  a  cinema 
play. 

I  HAVE  seen  the  Canadians  many  times  and 
under  many  conditions  during  the  two 
years  that  I  have  been  a  war  correspondent 
upon  the  Western  Front.  I  recall  them 
hilarious  with  delight  over  the  success  of  the 
raiding  of  enemy  trenches,  which  they  were 
the  first  to  practise  in  the  winter  of  1915-16. 
I  have  met  them  battered  and  ragged  after 
the  terrible  gruelling  t-hey  received  around 
Hooge  in  June,  1916.  I  saw  them  bubbling 
over  with  exultation  after  their  wonderful 
triumph  upon  the  Vimy  Ridge.  I  have 
caught  glimpses  of  them  squeezing  the  Hun 
life  relentlessly  out  of  the  red  and  smouldering 
city  of  Lens.  What  great  lads  they  are  1 
What  cheery  companions  !  What  incompar- 
able soldiers  ! 

But  the  deepest  of  all  the  impressions  which 
I  retain  of  the  Canadians  is  of  their  first 
arrival  in  the  Motherland.  Doubtless  two 
reasons  account  for  this.  Plymouth  is  my 
home;  I  was  there  at  the  time,  and  in  two 
years  of  isolation  from  all  that  one  holds 
dearest,  reminiscence  will  conjure  her  own 
favourite  subjects.  Then,  again,  this  great 
Canadian  Contingent  of  33,000  strong  was  the 
first  batch  of  troops  to  arrive  in  the  magnificent 
Overseas'  rally'  to  the  aid  of  the  little  Old 
Country,  coming  at  a  time  when  hope  for  the 
future  was  strong,  but  concern  for  the  present 
deep.  We  in  Plymouth  did  not  know  these 
sons  of  the  Maple  Leaf  were  coming  until  they 
were  right  in  our  midst.  For  it  had  been 
ariginaliy  planned  to  disembark  the  Dominion 
contingent  at  Southampton,  and  it  was  only 
as  the  great  armada  was  striking  soundings 
that  a  cypher  wireless  conveyed  orders  for  the 
change  of  destination.  These  orders  were 
given  on  the  evening  of  October  14,  1914, 
and  some  warships  were  dispatched  from 
Plymouth  to  strengthen  the  naval  escort 
which  had  accompanied  the  transports  across 
the  North  Atlantic.    By  the  way,  it  was  surely 


CHRISTMAS   MORNING 
TRENCHES 


By  UuUitiiad 
IN   THE 


"Who  pinched  that  sock  I  hung  up  lut  night?' 

something  more  than  a  coincidence  that  th< 
old  battleship  Glory  should  have  brought  up 
the  wake  of  that  stately  procession.  Assuredl) 
glory  has  followed  the  Canadians  ever  since. 

On  the  morning  of  October  15,  I  went  foi 
a  stroll  upon  Plymouth  Hoe.  As  I  ascendec 
the  slight  incline  past  the  spot  where  Sii 
Francis  Drake  is  said  to  have  played  his 
famous  game  of  bowls,  and  came  within  view 
of  the  sea,  I  saw  that  it  was  grey  and  hazy, 
the  Breakwater  being  invisible,  and  Drake's 
Island  and  Mount  Edgcumbe  looming  in 
exaggerated  shadows.  I  gained  the  esplanade 
which  crosses  the  broad  ridge,  and,  walking 
as  far  as  the  old  red-ringed  Smeaton  Tower, 
paused  to  survey  the  scene.  A  few  small, 
brown-sailed  fishing  hookers  were  making  for 
the  Cattewater;  beyond  them  a  big  steamship 


Page  18 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


was  coming  directly  shorewards,  like  a  vast 
phantom  emerging  from  the  mist.  So  many 
ocean  liners  make  Plymouth  a  port  of  call 
that  the  only  point  which  arrested  my  atten- 
tion in  connection  with  this  vessel  was  the 
fact  that  she  should  be  coming  so  far  up  the 
Sound ;  most  of  the  mail  boats  anchor  in 
Cawsand  Bay.  She  was  blowing  off  steam  in 
a  hissing  white  jet.  As  she  approached  the 
Melampus  Buoy  she  altered  course  so  that 
her  length  drew  out,  and  then  I  knew  that  she 
was  bound  up  the  Hamoaze,  where  stretches 
the  great  expanse  of  the  finest  naval  dockyard 
in  the  world. 

A  great  white  patch  upon  her  bow  bearing 
a  numeral  gave  me  to  know  that  she  was  a 
transport,  and  I  grew  more  interested.  As 
she    continued    to    grow    out    of    the    light 


By  Thomas  Henry 

OUR    INCORRIGIBLE 

Parson:  "I  had  a  letter  from  your  chum 
George  last  week ;  he  told  me  all  about  the 
battle,  and  that  he  saw  you  fall." 

Tommy :  "  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  old  George's 
a  liar  ;  I  was  blown  up." 


"mizzle,"  as  they  call  it  in  the  West  Country, 
her  details  grew  more  plain.  And  then  sud- 
denly, as  it  seemed  to  me,  like  a  cinema  trans- 
formation, her  contour  seemed  to  be  traced  in 
khaki.  Half-way  up  her  rigging  pigmy 
figures  seemed  to  swarm  in  a  dense  cluster, 
and  a  confused  sound  of  cheering  was  borne 
upon  the  damp  breeze.  Then  I  caught  the 
wavering  strains  of  a  band  playing  somewhere 
on  board,  and  gave  a  start  as  the  revelatien 
came  upon  me.  For  the  tune  was  "The  Maple 
Leaf  for  Ever." 

From  the  Citadel  on  my  left  and  the  Long 
Room  Battery  under  the  Hoe  to  my  right 
arose  the  echoes  of  multitudinous  cheering. 
A  naval  petty  officer  paused  at  my  side  and 
exchanged  looks. 

"The  Canadians  !  "  he  said,  in  a  voice  tense 
with  pent-up  enthusiasm.  "Thirty-one  trans- 
ports chock  full  of  them  !  That's  the  tenth 
which  has  gone  up  harbour  so  far." 

The  prompting  of  an  irresistible  emotion 
caused  me  to  laugh.  A  grey  destroyer  came 
churning  out  of  the  mist,  overtook  the  trans- 
port, and  kept  station  abreast  of  her.  Beyond, 
the  thin  outline  of  another  big  ship  stole  into 
view,  and  her  syren  gave  a  prolonged  un- 
earthly screech.  The  first  vessel  continued  to 
close  in  towards  the  promenade  pier.  The 
khaki  swarms  had  ceased  to  cheer,  and  were 
taking  up  the  refrain  of  the  band.  Curiously 
enough,  the  Hoe  was  almost  deserted.  Only 
a  few  officials  knew  that  the  Canadians  were 
coming  in  across  the  historic  haven. 

I  lingered  for  about  an  hour,  during  which 
time  several  transports  grew  out  of  the  near 
offing,  swam  slowly  past,  and  disappjeared 
around  Devil's  Point  on  their  way  to  Devon- 
port.  Like  the  first  I  had  seen,  they  were  all 
packed  with  hurrahing  troops.  It  was  one  of 
those  episodes  which  are  worth  living  for, 
when  the  "pride  of  race"  is  stirred  into  a 
tingling  enthusiasm,  and  one  longs  to  give 
vent  to  feeling  in  a  burst  of  shouting.  Then 
I  suddenly  awoke  to  realisation  that,  as  a 
newspaper  man,  this  advent  of  our  kinsmen 
from  the  Dominion  was  going  to  mean  busy 
hours  for  me,  and  I  turned  my  back  upon  the 
Hoe  and  the  grand  Empire  pageant  which 
was  still  majestically  moving  across  the  waters 
of  the  Sound. 


1 


CAS  ADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  l« 


By  Dykt  WkiU 

Colonel:  "You're  in  a  disgraceful  condition!     Report  yourself  to  me  at  10.30  to-morrow!  " 
The  Absent-Minded  One  :  "  Yesh^  sir  I    '11  put  a  knot  in  m'  hanky  for  fear  I  forget,  sir ! " 


THE    SHORTEST   WAY    TO   THE 

FRONT 

How   a  Canadian   Recruit  Discovered    It 
By  A.   ST.  JOHN    ADCOCK 


The  Sergeant  who  drilled  us  for  -weeks  and 

weeks, 
He  spoke  as  a  Sergeant  mostly  speaks : 
He  said  we  were  nothin'  but  blinkin'  freaks, 

An'  he  roared  like  the  cannon  crashes; 
My  talk  isn't  always  good  to  tell, 
But  the  Sergeant's  words  were  the  kind  that 

—well. 
The  kind  that  you  have  to  try  to  spell 
With  dots,  an'  stars,  an'  some  dashes. 


He  drilled  us  for  months,  an'  months,  an'  he 

swore 
He'd  drill  us  for  ever  and  evermore ; 
So  I  says  to  him,  "Sergeant,  we're  sick  an' 
sore, 

Fed  up  with  this  drill-book  stunt; 
I  didn't  sign  on  just  to  romp  about 
An'  play  in  the  sun  like  a  young  Boy  Scout; 
What  we  want  you  to  do  is  to  uke  us  out 

The  shortest  way  to  the  Front." 


Page  20 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


"You  I"  says  he.     "O,  you  blankety  lot, 
I  wouldn't  be  seen  at  the  Front  with  you,  not 
For  all  the  dibs  that  our  dash  an'  a  dot 

Of  a  Government  ever  minted. 
Call   yerselves  men  1      Lord,    how    was   you 

made  ? 
You  never  was  born,  an'  never  was  laid, 

You're  nothin'  but  blobs  o' "  (The  thing 

that  he  said 

Is  not  allowed  to  be  printed). 

'Y'    got    two    left    arms,    an'    yer    wind's 

unsound, 
Y'  got  two  right  legs  that  stick  to  the  ground. 
An'  yer  feet  have  bin  fixed  on  wrong  ways 
round, 
You're  boss-eyed,  knock-kneed,  barmy; 
You're  deqf,"  he  says,  "you  star  and  a  blank, 
You  can't  walk  straight  an'  you  can't  keep 

rank. 
You'd  pass,  maybe,  for  a  shop  or  a  bank, 
But  you  ain't  no  good  for  the  Army  I 

"Shoulder     arms  I       Form     fours!       Quick 

march  I     Keep  pace. 
Mark    time !       Right    turn !      Halt  1      You 

(censored)  disgrace !  " 
So  he  kept  us  at  it  all  over  the  place, 


Till  the  sweat  rolled  off  us  in  streams ; 
Seemed  as  he  wanted  to  cure  or  to  kill, 
Nothin'  all  day  but  route  marchin'  an'  drill, 
An'  all  night  long,  if  we  slept,  we  was  still 

A-formin'  fours  in  our  dreams. 

Then,  at  last,  he  spoke  as  a  Christian  shud  : 
"When   they   brought   you   to   me  you   was 

lumps  o'  mud, 
But   now  you   are  men,   you  are   flesh   and 

blood,   ' 
You  are  real  live  soldiers,  s'welp  me  I 
An'  if  you're  as  square  as  you  orter  be, 
When  the  Padre  arsks,   '  Who  made  yer  ?  ' 

says  he, 
You'll  tell  him  the  truth  an'  say  it  was  me — 
An'  Gawd  didn't  even  help  me  I  " 

There's  several  ways  to  wherever  you  go, 
But   there's   only   one  for   the    blokes   what 

know  ; 
They  get  there  quickest  by  travellin'  slow, 

An'  that's  why  they're  worth  their  blunt. 
I  guess  it's  a  howler,  at  any  rate. 
To  be  there  too  early,  or  there  too  late, 
An'  the  Sergeant  knew,  an'  was  showin'  us 
straight 

The  shortest  way  to  the  Front  I 


THE  RUNNERS 


An   Appreciation  by  SERGEANT   L.   McLEOD   GOULD 

{Inspired  bp  the  Runners  of  the  102nd  Canadian  Infantry  "Battalion) 

When  soldiers  are  ready  to  drop  with  fatigue, 
And  only  an  Adjutant's  brain  can  intrigue 
A  vital  dispatch  to  the  C.O.'s  colleague; 
Who  are  the  boys  who  can  still  stay  a  league  ? 
The  Runners. 

When  wires  are  broken,  and  pigeons  won't  fly, 
When  shrapnel  and  whizz-bang  are  bursting  on  high, 
When  hell's  on  the  earth,  and  earth's  in  the  sky; 
Who  are  the  boys  who  will  get  through  or  die  ? 
The  Runners. 

So  here's  to  all  soldiers  of  every  degree, 
Be  they  horsemen,  or  gunners,  or  stout  infantry; 
But  specially  those  who  appeal  most  to  me, 
Who  tackle  their  work  with  a  semblance  of  glee, 
The  Runners.  i 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


Pane  21 


CANADA'S  MOST  FAMOUS  AIR-FIGHTER   IS  ONLY  TWENTY-TWO 


Canadians  make  fine  airmen  and   form  a  large  percentage  in  the  R.F.C.      Major  W.  A.  Bishop, 
V.C.,  D.S.O.,  M.C.,  has  already  brought  down  37  enemy  machines 


Major  Bishop  is  boyish  and  smiling 


He  looks  to  the  sighting  of  his  deadly  gun 

Canadian  Official  Photograph* 


Page  22 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


LIGHT  RAILWAYS  ASSIST  THE  CANADIANS  TO  VICTORY 


Canadians  run  their  narrow-gauge  lines  through  the  most  impossible  places 


Ammunition  going  up  to  the  line 


Train  passing  through  shelled  village 


When  the  Canadians  cannot  wait  for  light  railways  they  build  cordwood  roads.     This  is  the 
improvised  road  on  which  they  followed  up  victory  across  Vimy  Ridge 

Canadian  Official  Photograpl 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Piige  83 


CANADA   IN   HUNLAND 

By   FREDERIC   WILLIAM   WILE 

Late  Berlin  Correspoodent  of  the  Vailff  Mall 


G'  ANAUIANS  are  the  most  unloved  of 
men  in  Germany.  Their  name,  indeed, 
strikes  such  terror  to  what  serves  the  Hun  as 
a  heart  that  orders  from  On  High  have  been 
issued  to  mention  it  as  infrequently  as  pos- 
sible. Gott  strafe  England  is  still  the  prayer 
with  which  Pirate  babes  are  lulled  to  sleep, 
but  under  the  breath  of  all  who  utter  it  is  a 
second  edition  reading,  Gotl  strafe  die  Kana- 
dier:  God  punish  the  Canadians! 

Sometimes  I  think  that  if  the  War  Lords  of 
Prussia,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  orgy  of 
blood  and  iron  in  which  Armageddon  was 
born,  could  have  conjured  up  the  vision  of 
Ontario's  and  British  Columbia's  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  armed  giants,  and  of  their 
comrades  from  the  uttermost  regions  of  the 
Dominion — if  that  prospect  could  have  been 
visualised  in  war-mad  Berlin  in  the  dawning 
hours  of  August,  1914;  well,  to  drop  into  the 
vernacular  which  all  gum-chewers  and  base- 
ball "fans"  understand,  I  guess  the  Kaiser 
would  have  had  "another  think"  coming. 

The  magnificent  way  in  which  Canada 
joined  up,  instead  of  seizing  the  opportunity 
to  set  up  a  Republic — that  was  the  dope 
handed  out  for  years  by  the  Benin  political 
professors — gave  Prussianism  its  first  jolt. 
But  the  jolting  has  been  kept  up  by  Canada 
in  the  Field.  There  are  plenty  of  first-hand 
proofs  in  existence,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
that  Fritz,  who  does  not  face  danger  without 
courage,  looks  upon  fighting  Canadians  as 
about  the  most  unpalatable  work  that  can  be 
assigned  him. 

Neuve  Chapelle  gave  him  a  dose  of  Canada 
that  he  will  remember  as  long  as  the  history 
of  the  war  endures.  Vimy  Ridge  provided 
him  with  some  more  of  the  same  kind  of 
medicine.  I  mention  just  those  two  of  the 
countless  gallant  engagements  in  which 
Canada  in  Khaki  paid  its  respects  to  the 
2    II 


Boche  because  I  happen  lo  know  that  they 
left  a  peculiarly  nauseating  taste  in  the  Ger- 
man mouth. 

Somewhere  the  other  day  I  read  that  the 
Huns  call  the  Canadians  "butchers."  Well, 
if  I  were  a  Canadian,  I'd  be  proud  of  that. 
You  butchered  one  of  their  fondest  illusions 
by  "coming  into"  the  war.  And  Heaven 
knows,  you  slaughter  their  most  scientific 
military  arrangements  every  time  you  get  a 
fair  chance. 

May  I  make  a  passing,  friendly  and 
fraternal  suggestion  to  all  Canadians  in  khaki, 
who,  please  God,  will,  one  of  these  fair  days, 
be  once  again  peace-loving  warriors  at  home 
in  the  unending  struggle  of  commercial  and 
industrial  pursuits?  The  Germans,  even  yet, 
dream  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada  as  a  great 
market  for  German  trade.  They  believe  that 
Canadians  are  men  and  women  of  short  me- 
mories. They  think  that  you  will  be  ready 
to  kiss,  make  up — and  do  "business  as  usual  " 
with  them.  They  say  that  Canada  "needs 
Germany,"  and  they  hint  that  your  golden 
grain  will  be  welcomed  at  Hamburg  and  Bre- 
men as  of  yore,  if  you  will  only  consent  to 
allow  German  manufacturers  to  flood  your 
markets  with  dumped  goods  and  to  exploit 
Quebec  and  Vancouver  and  St.  John's  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Hamburg-American  line  and  the 
North  German  Lloyd  ! 

In  the  name  of  their  immortal  comrades 
whose  bones  and  blood  sanctify  a  hundred 
battlefields  in  France  and  Flanders,  I  hope 
Canadian  soldiers — the  future  business  men 
and  farmers  of  the  Dominion — will  not  for- 
give and  not  forget.  If  you  vow  to  frustrate 
German  commercial  ambitions  in  Canada 
after  the  war,  you  will  have  dealt  the  third, 
and  by  no  means  the  least  effective,  blow  to 
their  crazv  miscalculations  about  you  and 
your  country. 


Page  24 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


THE    HOME-COMING    OF   TOMPKINS.    V.C. 


By  G.  M.  Paynt 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  U 


THE   CANADIAN   WAR 
MEMORIALS    FUND 

ITS    HISTORY    AND    OBJECTS 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI  appears  for  the 
second  time  for  the  benefit  of  the  Cana- 
dian War  Memorials  Fund.  No  apology  is 
needed  for  the  existence  of  the  book ;  it  pleads 
for  itself;  and  the  immediate  and  striking 
success  of  the  first  issue  is  its  best  justifica- 
tion. Yet  its  readers  are  entitled  to  know  a 
little  more  of  the  object  to  which  the  proceeds 
of  the  publication  are  to  be  devoted,-  and  of 
which  but  the  scantiest  details  have  so  far 
reached  the  public. 

The  idea  of  an  artistic  War  Memorial  is 
generally  connected  with  a  winged  and  laurel- 
crowned  confection  in  marble  and  bronze, 
erected  on  some  prominent  site  for  the  edifica- 
tion, or  derision,  as  the  case  may  be,  of  future 
generations.  Or,  if  it  take  a  pictorial  form, 
it  is  apt  to  be  a  series  of  unconvincing,  melo- 
dramatic illustrations,  more  or  less  fanciful, 
of  famous  episodes  or  individual  acts  of 
heroism,  that  are  of  little  artistic  and  abso- 
lutely no  documentary  or  historical  value. 
Who  can  pass  through  the  endless  galleries 
of  battle  pictures  at  Versailles  without  experi- 
encing a  sense  of  invincible  boredom?  A 
War  Memorial  of  this  kind,  if  it  is  to  be  of 
lasting  value,  if  it  is  to  teach  future  genera- 
tions, to  stir  their  imagination,  to  stimulate 
their  patriotic  feeling,  must  be  a  thrilling 
record  of  facts,  based  on  personal  experience. 

The  question  arises,  whether  a  time  of  trial, 
when  the  collective  and  general  .energy  of  the 
nation  should  be  concentrated  on  the  stern 
necessitv  of  bringing  the  war  to  a  victorious 
issue,  is  the  suitable  moment  for  carrying  out 
an  artistic  scheme  of  unprecedented  magni- 
tude. The  answer  can  only  be :  Now,  or 
never. 

If  a  pictorial  record  of  this  greatest  of  all 
wars  is  to  be  of  permanent  value,  it  must  be 
created  from  actual  impressions  whilst  they 
are  fresh  on  the  mind,  whilst  emotions  and 


passions  and  enthusiasm  are  at  their  highest. 
A  "posthumous"  war  picture  is  as  valueless 
as  a  posthumous  portrait.  Only  the  most 
sordid  materialism,  which  regards  Art  as  an 
unnecessary  luxury,  can  object  to  the  diver- 
sion of  a  few  brilliant  men's  activity  from  the 
more  material  needs  of  the  moment.  The 
immediate  object  of  war  is  destruction — of 
art,  creation.  Empires,  social  and  political 
institutions,  whole  civilisations  crumble  and 
fade  away ;  the  effects  of  war,  that  loom  so" 
powerfully  in  the  minds  of  those  who  take 
part  in,  or  witness,  the  struggle  between 
nation  and  nation,  are  transitory,  and  are 
bound  to  be  modified  by  future  events.  But 
Art  remains  to  teach  posterity  of  the  glorious 
past  of  the  race,  and  to  keep  alive  the  flame 
of  patriotism.  Our  whole  knowledge  of 
civilisations  that  have  vanished  long  since — 
Egypt,  Babylonia,  Chaldxa,  and  so  forth — 
is  derived  from  the  scanty  artistic  records 
that  have  been  saved  from  the  destruction  of 
Time  and  War.  The  visual  evidence  of  one 
fragment  of  art  teaches  us  more,  and  more 
tellingly  and  rapidly,  than  whole  volumes  of 
erudition. 

These  are  some  of  the  considerations  that 
guided  the  Committee  of  the  Canadian  War 
Memorials  Fund,  composed  of  Lord  Rother- 
mere  (Chairman),  Lord  Beaverbrook,  and 
Captain  B.  L.  Lima,  in  evolving  and  organis- 
ing the  great  scheme  which  is  to  provide 
Canada  with  a  magnificent  and  lasting  artistic 
record  of  her  noble  share  in  the  world's  war. 
The  greatest  painters  of  Canada,  of  Britain 
and  the  Overseas  Dominions,  of  France  and 
of  Italy,  were  to  be  invited  to  help  in  creating 
a  vast  series  of  decorative  paintings  on  an 
heroic  scale,  which  will  eventually  be  housed 
in  a  gallery  specially  built  for  this  purpose  on 
a  prominent  and  suitable  site  in  Ottawa. 
Whilst   the   nucleus   of   this  collection   must 


Page  26 

necessarily  be  formed  of  paintings  commenior- 
aling  the  achievements  of  the  Canadian  troops 
on  the  battlefields  oi  Flanders  and  France,  no 
phase  of  activity  connected  more  or  less 
directly  with  the  war  will  be  disregarded. 
The  whole  vast  significance  of  this  war  upon 
the  life  of  the  nation  will  be  reflected  in  these 
paintings,  which  will  deal  with  the  military 
training  of  men  accustomed  to  the  peaceful 
avocations  of  the  city  oflice  or  the  land;  the 
self-sacrificing  devotion  of  their  womenfolk  to 
the  arduous  work  of  the  hospital;  the  expert 
activity  of  Canadian  lumbermen  in  our 
forests,  cutting  down  timber  for  trenches  and 
hutments  and  sleepers;  of  engineers  busy 
with  the  construction  of  railways  at  the  front; 
the  transport  of  the  Dominion  troops  across 
the  Atlantic,  and  Canadian  patrol  boats  in 
the  Channel;  of  aircraft  and  artillery.  Fam- 
ous landscape  painters  will  depict  the  awful 
desolation  of  No  Man's  Land,  and  the  gaunt 
ruins  of  once  flourishing  cities  and  villages. 

There  will  be  busts  and  portrait  paintings 
of  the  political  and  military  leaders  in  this 
grim  business;  and  the  imaginative  aspect  of 
this  Armageddon  will  be  dealt  with  in  one  or 
two  allegorical  compositions.  The  one  thing 
that  is  to  be  strictly  excluded  is  the  colour- 
less, academic  reconstruction  from  descriptive 
material,  which  has  brought  the  art  of  the 
battle-painter  into  discredit. 

The  organisers  of  the  scheme  have,  so  far 
as  this  was  in  their  power,  endeavoured  to 
entrust  each  subject  to  the  one  artist  most 
likely  to  do  justice  to  it ;  and  they  have 
arranged,  in  each  case,  that  the  fullest  facili- 
ties should  be  given  to  every  artist  for  gather- 
ing his  material  on  the  spot,  and  for  absorbing 
the  true  atmosphere  of  the  scene.  Apart  from 
having  the  broad  outlines  of  his  subject  made 
clear  to  him,  and  from  the  rather  elastic  re- 
strictions imposed  by  the  necessity  of  keeping 
a  certain  unity  in  the  general  decorative 
scheme,  each  artist  is  given  tlie  fullest  liberty 
to  do  whatever  may  best  suit  his  temperament, 
so  that  the  artistic  quality  of  his  work  may 
not  suffer  from  irksome  restraint.  Those 
whose  subjects  necessitate  close  inspection  of 
the  trenches  and  No  Man's  Land  are  granted 
honorary  commissions  in  the  Canadian  armv, 
to  enable  them  to  work  on   the  spot  anH   fo 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 

ensure   absolute  truth  of  fact  and  of  atmo- 
sphere. 

The  first  artist  thus  sent  out  for  the  Cana- 
dian War  Memorials  Fund  was  the  Hon. 
Major  Richard  Jack,  A.R.A.,  who  has 
already  completed  a  remarkable  canvas, 
measuring  20  ft.  by  15  ft.,  of  the  second 
Battle  of  Ypres.  Though,  naturally,  not 
actually  present  at  the  fighting.  Major  Jack 
has  carefully  investigated  and  sketched  the 
whole  ground,  and  has  spent  some  time  with 
the  units  which  took  part  in  the  engagement, 
collecting  from  officers  and  men  all  the  details 
and  facts  needed  for  absolute  accuracy.  Some 
of  the  men  who  had  been  through  the  battle 
actually  posed  for  the  picture,  whilst  machine- 
guns  and  all  manner  of  military  accoutre- 
ments were  temporarily  placed  at  the  artist's 
disposal,  whose  studio  assumed  something  of 
the  appearance  of  a  battlefield.  It  is  scarcely 
an  exaggeration  to  say  that  Major  Jack's  first 
picture — a  companion  canvas  is  already  in 
commission — stands  so  far  unrivalled  among 
British  battle  paintings. 

Though  treated  in  a  more  pronouncedly 
decorative  manner.  Professor  G.  Moira's 
large  painting  of  Canadian  lumbermen  cut- 
ting down  trees  in  Windsor  Park,  with  the 
mighty  mass  of  the  Royal  Castle  towering  in 
the  background,  is  equally  valuable  as  a  faith- 
ful record  of  a  specialised  branch  of  Canadian 
war  activity.  Professor  Moira  is  the  head  of 
the  Royal  College  of  Art,  the  principal  art 
school  under  the  Board  of  Education,  and 
enjoys  an  enviable  reputation  among  modern 
decorative  painters. 

Major  William  Orpen,  A.R.A.,  the  famous 
portrait  painter,  and  Major  D.  Y.  Cameron, 
A.R.A.,  wbose  achievements  both  as  an  etcher 
and  as  a  landscape  [lainter  entitle  him  to 
rank  among  the  masters  of  twentieth  century 
art,  are  at  present  with  the  Canadian  forces. 
Major  Orpen  with  a  view  to  painting  for  the 
Fund  a  portrait  of  General  Currie  and  a  battle 
picture;  and  Major  Cameron  bent  on  studying 
the  topography  and  atmosphere  of  the  battle- 
fields of  Flanders  for  two  typical  landscapes 
of  the  fighting  zone.  The  next  artist  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  front  with  the  hon.  commis- 
sion of  Major  is  Mr.  Augustus  E.  John, 
whose    ambition    it    is    to    paint    a    trigantic 


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CAXADA    IX    KHAKI 


decoration,  some  30  ft.  or  40  ft.  in  length, 
representing  no  particular  episode,  but  sum- 
ming up  in  synthetic  fashion  the  impression 
created  upon  a  sensitive  observer  by  his 
personal  experience  of  modern  war. 

The  essential  character  of  modern  warfare, 
in  which  engineering  and  the  invention  of 
machinery  for  wholesale  destruction  play  a 
part  more  important  even  than  individual  and 
collective  heroism,  a  war  of  giant  guns  and 
tanks,  aeroplanes  and  submarines,  poison  gas 
and  liquid  fire,  has  so  far  found  its  best  inter- 
preter in  Mr.  R.  Nevinson,  one  of  the  first 
British    artists    sent    out    by    the    Imperial 

Government  to  paint  for    

propaganda  purposes. 
One  of  the  firstfruits  of 
his  recent  visit  to  the 
front  is  a  series  of  four 
frieze-like  panels,  show- 
ing the  progress  of  the 
fighting  force  from  the 
base  to  the  front  line : 
first  the  endless  proces- 
sion of  motor  transport 
moving  along  a  tree- 
planted  French  road  bor- 
dered by  cultivated 
fields;  then  the  rail-head 
littered  with  sleepers 
ready  for  the  extension  of 
the  line,  and  heavy  artil- 
lery being  brought  up, 
the  landscape  showing 
the  first  signs  of  the  de- 
structive effect  of  artillery 
fire ;  then  infantry  march- 
ing to  the  trenches,  a 
ruined  village,  splintered 
trees,  and  similar  indica- 
tions of  the  perpetual 
threat  of  death;  finally, 
the  utter  desolation  and 
confusion  of  No  Man's 
Land,  barbed  wire, 
ruined  trenches,  shell 
craters,  the  once  flour- 
ishing countryside  turned 
into  a  grim  and  weird  in- 
ferno. This  fine  series 
of     paintings     has     been 


acquired   by   the   Ca 
Fund. 

It  would  be  fatiguinglv 
a   full   list   of   the  artists  e 
portant  works  for  the  Fund^ 
allotted  to  each  of  them  accorai 
ticular  bent  of  his  talent.     It  is  e. 
that  all  the  leading  painters  of  th« 
been  approached  with  a  view  to  thei 
ment ;  and  that,  w  ith  one  or  two  inevitable 
ceptions,  in  the  case  of  artists  overburden 
with  work  or  prevented  by  ill-health,  the  pr<> 
posals  of  the  Committee  have  been  accepted 
in  the  most  generous  and  enthusiastic  spirit. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  FIGHTING 


By  C.  Harrison 
MAN 


C^INADA    IN    KHAKi 


that  Canadian  artists 
aong    the  contributors, 
or  instance,  is  to  paint  two 
."ie   ruins  of   Ypres  and  of 
yndham    Lewis,    a   native   of 
j4nd  at  present  an  artillery  officer 
inForces,  will  embody  his  know- 
experience  in  an  important  repre- 
e     picture    of    a    Canadian    gun-pit ; 
"jRations  have  been  opened  with  Mr.  Mor- 
rice,   the  doyen'  Canadian   painier  in   Paris; 
and  several  young  Canadian  artists,  who  hold 
commissions  in  the  Dominion  army,  are  busy 
collecting  sketches  at  the  front  which  will  con- 


stitute   a    valuable    record    of    actuality,     or    . 
may    serve    as    material    for    more    ambitious 
paintings. 

Finally,  it  may  be  worth  noting  that  the 
Canadian  War  Memorials  Fund  is,  as  it 
were,  entirely  self-supporting.  There  is  no 
Government  grant.  The  artists  will  be  paid 
from  the  proceeds  of  the  amazingly  success- 
ful official  Canadian  War  Photogrraphs  Ex-  j 
hibitions,  and  of  publications  issued  by  the  ' 
Canadian  War  Records  Office.  Canada  in 
KHAKI  stands  foremost  among  these  publica- 
tions. Its  success  is  bound  up  with  the  suc- 
cess of  the  Fund. 

The  Secretary. 


'Good  mornin'.  Harbourmaster  I     When  does  the  tide  go  out?' 


Sy  MacMichari 


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u  .. 

2  =^ 

a  -^ 

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a. 


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CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  » 


FROM  THE  LAND  OF  THE   GOLD 

AND  SNOW 

By    HENRY    CHAPPELL 


What  spell  hath  drawn  them,  these  men  from 
the  snows, 

From  the  mart,  the  trail,  and  the  forests  old. 
And   the   waiting   harvest   that,   wind-kissed, 
flows 

In  sheeny  billows  of  bronze  and  gold  ? 
O  I  the  trump  of  War  to  the  four  winds  blown. 
And  the  Mother's  call  from  her  sea-girt  throne. 
They  armed  them,  sped  them,  and  led  the  van. 
Faith  in  the  soul  of  every  man. 

How   have   they   fared  them,   these   warriors 

brave? 
Their  deeds  are  told  by  the  camp  fires'  Aare 
'Neath    the   shadowy    pines  that   whisp'ring 

wave, 
And  told  in  the  roaring  cities'  glare. 
O  1  they  fared  them  far,  and  they  quit  them  well, 
Their  legions  drove  at  the  gates  of  hell, 
Shocked    them,     sundered,    and    o'er    them 

swirled, 
Waves  of  the  tide  that  saved  the  world. 


What    have    they    compassed,    these    noble 

sons. 
Sons  of  the  land  of  the  gold  and  snow. 
The  dead  who  fell  to  the  hungry  guns, 

And     the     quick     who     hazard    the    final 

throw  ? 
O  !  quick  and  dead  they  have  rent  a  chain 
Whose    links    had    birth     in    a    madman's 

brain. 
Were  forged  and  tensed  by  a  madman's  zeal 
To  bind  the  world  to  his  chariot  wheel. 

What    have   they    builded,   these   quick   and 
dead, 

With  priceless  mortar  and  sacred  clay  ? 
Is  it  worthy  the  souls  untimely  sped, 

Hath    the     Mother    pride    in    their    work 
to-day  ? 
Aye  !  for  on  pillars  strong  and  true. 
Linking  the  Old  World  with  the  New, 
A  bridge  of  hearts  o'er  the  gulf  is  thrown, 
Their  deathless  Faith  as  the  corner  stone. 


THE    SILENT    TOAST 

By  LT.-COL.  CANON  FREDERICK  GEORGE  SCOTT 

(Senior  Chaplain   First   Canadian    Division) 


They  stand  with  reverent  faces, 

And  their  merriment  give  o'er, 
As  they  drink  the  toast  to  the  unseen  host. 

Who  have  fought  and  gone  before. 

It  is  only  a  passing  moment 
In  the  midst  of  the  feast  and  song, 

But  it  grips  the  breath,  as  the  wing  of  death 
In  a  vision  sweeps  along. 

No  more  they  see  the  banquet 

And  the  brilliant  lights  around; 
But  they  charge  again  on  the  hideous  plain 

When  the  shell-bursts  rip  the  ground. 


And  out  of  the  roar  and  tumult. 
Or  the  black  night  loud  with  rain. 

Some  face  comes  back  on  the  fiery  track 
And  looks  in  their  eyes  again. 

And  the  love  that  is  passing  woman's, 
And  the  bonds  that  are  forged  by  death, 

Now  grip  the  soul  with  a  strange  control 
And  speak  what  no  man  saith. 

The  vision  dies  off  in  the  stillness, 

Once  more  the  tables  shine. 
But  the  eyes  of  all  in  the  banquet  hall 

Are  lit  with  a  light  divine. 


ra^e 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


IRRECLAIMABLE 

A  Short   Story 
By   R.  S.  WARREN    BELL 

Author  of  "Young  Couples,"  "Company  for  George,"  "Tales  of  Greyhouse."  etc. 


A  YOUNG  man  of  medium  height  and 
neatly  built,  sunburnt  and  clean-shaven, 
the  word  "Canada"  on  his  khaki  shoulder 
affording  him  a  label  and  a  gold  stripe  on  his 
arm  distinction,  alighted  from  a  motor-train  at 
DeephoUow  and,  having  limped  a  few  steps 
up  the  platform,  turned  and  watched  the  odd 
little  locomotive  buzz  away  through  the  quiet 
meads. 

No  stationmaster  in  Authority's  grand  cap 
was  there  to  greet  him,  no  porter  stood  at  the 
gate  to  receive  his  ticket.  For  it  was  not  a 
station,  only  a  Halt.  Tickets  were  issued  and 
collected  by  the  conductor  of  the  queer  little 
train.  The  queer  little  station,  with  its 
primitive  shed  of  a  waiting-room  and  isolated 
aspect,  rather  reminded  the  traveller  of  the 
measureless  Dominion  he  had  long  months 
ago  left  behind. 

There  was  at  least  a  bench  on  the  platform, 
and,  being  in  no  hurry,  he  sat  down  on  it, 
lit  a  fag,  and  became  lost  in  reverie. 

Ten  years — ten  years  it  was  since  he  had 
been  at  DeephoUow.  For  he  was  an  English- 
man who,  like  many  another  thousand  gallant 
lads,  had  answered  the  Old  Country's  sum- 
mons. But  ten  years  is  a  long  time,  and  the 
DeephoUow  boy  was  not  a  DeephoUow  man. 
His  new  country  called  to  him,  she  had  found 
his  heart.  Nevertheless  this  old  one,  with  its 
toy  fields  and  hedges,  its  still,  old  farm- 
houses and  unbusiness-like  barns,  was  very 
dear  to  him.  I  dare  say  you  can  understand 
Jim  Brigstock's  feelings,  divided  as  they  were 
between  his  new  and  old  love. 

Ten  years !  He  was  a  lad  then,  and  a 
caution  !  He  smiled.  It  was  because  he  had 
made  DeephoUow  too  warm  for  him  that  he 
had  got  away  to  Canada.  But  for  the  uni- 
form he  was  wearing — a  passport  everywhere 
•o  men's  respect — perhaps  he  would  not  have 


ventured  to  show  his  face  again  at  Deep- 
hoUow. He  had  gone  from  the  familiar 
pastures  of  his  youth  to  a  strange  land  where 
it  didn't  matter  in  the  least  how  bad  you 
were  or  had  been  so  long  as  you  did  your 
whack  of  work.  Nothing  else  was  asked  of 
you  in  a  country  of  such  great  spaces  that 
the  whole  of  this  mighty  little  England,  this 
imp  of  an  island  that  has  somehow  become 
possessed  of  half  the  globe,  would  make  but 
a  patch  of  it.  But  he  knew  that  standards  of 
conduct  were  necessarily  stricter  in  the  little 
Mother  Country. 

"And  yet,"  he  thought,  "I  wasn't  so  bad." 
It  is  comfortfng  to  know  that  you  are  not 
half  so  black  as  the  world  paints  you,  that 
your  Conscience  is  a  good  chum  rather  than 
an  upbraiding  monitor.  Jim  felt  and  looked 
pretty  easy  about  the  past.  After  all,  young 
shoulders  don't  carry  old  heads,  and  what 
you  do  at  sixteen  or  thereabout  ought  not  to 
be  thrown  in  your  face  when  you're  twenty- 
six.  Jim,  however,  didn't  care  if  it  was.  He 
had  come  here  for  a  purpose,  and  he  cared 
not  how  DeephoUow  looked  upon  the  re- 
turned prodigal.  All  DeephoUow,  that  is, 
save  one.     He  was  curious  about  that  one. 

The  latch  of  the  platform  gate  clicked,  and 
he  saw  a  bucolic  lass  in  a  blue  railway  cap 
and  dress  approaching  him.  After  all,  some- 
body had  to  light  and  extinguish  the  lamps, 
keep  the  place  tidy,  and  answer  questions. 
A  few  years  ago  this  girl  (who  had  been  a 
milkmaid  before  she  took  up  with  the  railway) 
would  have  betrayed  a  becoming  diffidence 
on  finding  herself  alone  at  a  wayside  station 
with  a  Man,  but  on  such  a  pricelessly  new 
footing  has  the  Empire's  war  set  the  Empire's 
daughters  that  the  girl-porter  looked  as  un- 
concerned as  if  she  had  been  chaperoned  by 
a  thousand  fierce  old  ladies. 


CANADA  IN  KlIAKJ 


Page  31 


"She  checked   the   horse   and   regarded   him  carefully. 

know  me?' 


Hjl   K.    If'ollcouiiiiiti 
'Joan,'   he  said,    'don't  you 

"Ibbsclaimable' 


Page  32 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


CANADIAN  PIONEERS  AT  WORK  UNDER  FIRE  IN  FRANCE 


Splitting  trunks  of  trees  into  logs  for  reinforcing  trenches 


Shelled    only   to   be   felled 


Steel  helmets  often  save  the  men 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


CANADA  IX  KHAKI 


Page  33 


TANKS  NOW  ACCOMPANY  THE  CANADIANS   INTO  ACTION 


The  terrible  machines  which  strike  terror  into  the  Boches  are  fascinating  to  the  French  children, 
who   have   begged   these  Canadians   to  show   them    "how   the  wheels   go   round" 


A  Tank  snapshotted  as  it  was  heavily  engaged  on  Vimy  Ridge 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


Page  34 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


THE  CORPS  COMMANDER  DIRECTS  AN  ATTACK 


Striking  study  of  Lieut. -Genl.  Sir  A.  W.  Currie,   C.B.,   K.C.M.G.,   during  a  recent  offensive 


L.l.\AI)A    IS    KHAKI 


Page  35 


Besides,  he  was  a  soldier. 

"Any  luggage?"  she  asked  casually. 

"No.    I've  just  come  over  from  Ironville." 

"See  your  folks?" 

"No.  1  have  no  folks  here.  1  had  once, 
but  they've  gone  away." 

The  girl  gazed  approvingly  on  the  blue 
band  and  tiie  snip  of  gold  braid  on  the 
traveller's  arm. 

"There's  twenty  VVoundeds  at  the  Hall," 
she  said,  and  went  off  briskly  to  the  little 
official  hutch  adjoining  the  waiting-shed — 
possibly  to  get  a  broom. 

Jim  Brigstock  was  burning  to  ask  her  a 
question.  But  he  dared  not.  He  would — 
investigate.  Yes.  So  tie  rose  and  walked 
through  the  gateway,  the  girl  flinging  him  a 
smile  from  the  door  of  her  hutch  as  he  passed 
out. 

The  soldier's  eyes  searched  his  environ- 
ment hungrily  for  familiar  landmarks.  From 
the  lane — it  was  only  a  lane — an  Approach 
had  been  cut  to  the  Halt;  it  was  an  unlovely 
thing,  and^jim  was  glad  to  leave  it  and  find 
himself  treading  the  lane  of  old  times.  Ah  ! 
there  was  the  cottage  where  the  old  woman 
would  give  them  a  drink  of  water.  A  young 
woman  stood  in  the  front  garden  now,  with 
a  baby  in  her  arms.  That  would  be  the  old 
lady's  little  grand-daughter  grown  up!  With 
a  baby.  Jim  smiled.  Some  sodger's  kid, 
he'd  swear. 

.•\nd  there  was  the  old  hollow  stump  of  a 
tree,  ivy-clad,  that  they  used  to  climb. 

A  little  farther  on  he'd  come  to  the  place 
where  four  roads  met  and  a  battered  sign-post 
directed  you  on  your  way.  Here,  he  had 
been  told  when  a  lad,  at  this  place  where  four 
roads  met,  in  bygone  times  they  buried 
suicides  with  a  stake  through  their  bodies. 
Jim  recalled  that  he'd  always  gazed  upon  that 
mound  of  green  with  awe,  hurrying  past  it 
.at  dusk.  He  rounded  a  corner  to  fin^  that 
the  old  post,  gnarled  and  green,  had  been 
replaced  by  a  smart  young  fellow  with  new 
black  lettering.  One  arm  said  "To  Deep- 
hollow,  i],{  miles,"  and  he  followed  that 
road. 

He  did  not  like  the  change  of  posts,  and 
wondered  whether  the  village  held  other  such 
changes  for  him 


Now  he  ascended  a  hill.  Below  him, 
when  he  reached  its  brow,  would  lie  Deep- 
hollow,  while  just  over  the  hill  would  be  the 
Loosemores'  farm.  He  walked  slowly,  for, 
after  ten  years  and  a  lot  of  lighting,  and  quite 
a  time  in  hospital  while  his  shattered  kne« 
mended,  he  found  himself  drawn  back  to  his 
native  village  by  the  rather  forlorn  hope  of 
seeing  again,  or  at  least  hearing  something 
of,  the  girl  he  had  known  as  a  boy — Joan 
Loosemore. 

Not  that  they  had  been  sweethearts — 
though  to  be  sure  he  had  been  a  courtier. 
But  she  was  the  only  girl  he  had  ever  given 
a  second  thought  to.  Yes ;  all  these  long  ten 
years  he  had  been  occupied  with  a  man's 
business,  tirst  farming,  then  fighting,  and 
never  a  woman  had  intruded  to  trouble  him. 
But  at  the  back  of  his  thoughts  and  heart 
there  had  nestled  the  image  of  the  girl  he 
had  paid  boy-court  to.  Just  she,  and  none 
other.  Not  surprising,  then,  his  pace 
slackened,  his  confidence  failed  a  little,  now 
he  was  so  close. 

Just  over  the  hill  and — he  would  be  there. 
Hakf  inclined,  he  felt,  to  turn  back.  Why, 
she  would  have  forgotten  him ;  she  would 
have  gone  away ;  she'd  be  married  and  done 
for.  "Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind."  Surely 
this  was  a  fool's  journey !  And  he  stopped 
altogether.  For  would  she  even  remember 
him,  he  being  only  sixteen — ^though  well- 
grown  for  it — and  she  fourteen ;  yet  a  very 
self-possessed,  mistressful  fourteen. 

He  stood  there  swinging  his  ash  stick. 
This  resolute-looking  man,  with  whom  to  act 
promptly  and  decisively  was  second  nature, 
halted  in  an  agony  of  vacillation. 

Somebody  coming.  Well,  he  would — yes, 
he  would  just  ask.  Casually,  bringing  in 
Farmer  Loosemore  first.  It  was  a  girl  on  a 
horse.  Another  innovation.  A  girl  dressed 
half  as  a  man,  astride  a  big  cart-horse.  She 
wore  a  wide  linen  cap,  a  holland  smock,  cord 
breeches  and  leggings.  She  looked  business- 
like, and  yet  (like  the  rest)  not  a  bit  mascu- 
line. And  w  hy  was  that  ?  Because  they 
weren't  apeing  men.  They  were  just  "carry- 
ing on."  Doing  the  men's  work.  And  these 
costumes  were  merely  part  of  it. 

It  was  a  big  horse  and  a  good  one — Jim 


Page  36 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


could  spot  a  good  horse 
in  a  trice.  She  sat  him 
gracefully,  and  she  was 
pretty  big  too.  He 
looked  at  her  intently.  .  . 
It  was  She  I 

Yes,  it  was  Joan — 
Joan  with  ten  years  gone 
over  her.  A  slip  of  a 
girl  she  had  been  when 
he  left  her,  'tis  true,  but 
a  lanky  slip.  She  had 
promised  stature — to  be 
a  "fine"  woman.  Jim, 
though  he  was  no 
woman's  man,  knew 
when  he  liked  a  woman's 
lines.  Joan,  the  mere 
slip  of  a  girl,  had  grown 
mto  a  rare  handsome 
woman. 

He  saluted  her.  She 
nodded  and  smiled. 
Khaki  was  everywhere, 
and  no  doubt  she  had 
met  this  Tommy  some- 
where. Possibly  he  was 
one  of  those  who  had 
been  lent  for  the  hay- 
making. 

But  he  took  a  step  for- 
ward.    "Joan,"   he  said, 
don't  you  know  me?" 
She  checked  the  horse 
»nd    regarded    him   care- 
fully. 

Then  she  dropped  the 
halter  and  sprang  to  the  ground. 

"I     was    only    thinking    to-day 
began. 

"Thinking  what?" 

"Thinking  what  a  long  time  it  was  since 
you  went  away." 

■  And  what  made  you  think  of  me  ?  " 
Why,"  she  said,  quite  simply  (though  she 
wa-.  a  woman  full  grown,  and  a  fine  one),  "I 
have  often  thought  of  you." 

"Though    I    was   but   a    nipper — and    you 
too." 

"But   we    were— exceptionals."      She    half 


"What  are  we  having,  Mick — Irish  stew?" 
"No;  sardines,  now  ye've  got  out  av  yer  tin." 


By  Byron 


she 


turned  her  face  away.  Then,  with  pleasure 
lighting  her  face  and  something  else  her  eyes 
— or  did  he  fancy  it? — she  held  out  her  hand. 

"We  haven't  shaken  hands,  Jim." 

"No  more  we  have,  Joan." 

They  shook  hands.  She  let  him  hold  hers 
a  little  time — an  old  friend  returned  ! — but  he 
held  it  so  long  that  at  length,  with  a  touch 
of  extra  colour  in  her  face  (for  the  sun  had  pui 
much  there),  she  withdrew  it  a  bit  abruptly. 

"I'm  taking  the  horse  down  to  turn  him 
loose."  She  grasped  the  halter.  "Shall  we 
walk  along?  " 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  37 


"Sure.    But  you  will  ride?" 

"No,  I  will  walk." 

They  walked  on.  There  was  nobody  about. 
They  had  the  lane  absolutely  to  them- 
selves, and  it  was  a  lovely  late-autumn  after- 
noon. 

"  Did  you  know  where  I  was,  Joan  ?  " 

"Why,  of  course.  I  knew  you'd  be 
there." 

"I'm  glad  you  reckoned  me  among  it.  But 
before  ?  " 

"No,  I've  never  heard  a  word.  I  knew  you 
were  in  Canada — that's  all." 

He  asked  after  her  father  and  mother  and 
other  people.  The  interval  that  had  elapsed 
offered  no  great  surprises.  Life  flowed 
smoothly  and  uneventfully  at  Deephollow. 
The  same  vicar  was  there,  the  same  doctor. 
But  Ironville,  the  great  manufacturing  town 
fourteen  miles  distant,  was  coming  closer.  A 
few  well-to-do  town  people,  availing  them- 
selves of  the  Halt,  had  built  rather  fine 
houses  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  There 
was  talk  of  putting  up  a  road  or  two  of  villas 
and  running  a  motor-bus  service  from  Iron- 
ville. 

Jim  shuddered. 

"That  spoils  a  countryside,"  he  said. 
"  Horses  never  do." 

"I  think  we'll  escape,"  said  Joan,  "as  Mr. 
Matthews,  who  owns  most  of  the  land  here- 
abouts, wants  too  long  a  price." 

"Mr.  Matthews  was  old  when  I  went 
away,"  mused  Jim.  "He  must  be  old  for 
work  now." 

"Not  too  old  to  bargain.  But  he  has  re- 
tired. Only  Mr.  Harold  goes  to  the  office  in 
Ironville  now.     Motors  in." 

"Oh  I  "  The  ejaculation  was  an  indifferent 
one.  .  Jim  wasn't  interested  in  the  Matthewses, 
father  or  son.  Many  years  since,  Mr. 
Matthews  senior,  an  Ironville  lawyer,  had 
discovered  Deephollow  and  bought  an  old 
country  house  there  to  make  his  home  in. 
Jim  had  reason  to  remember  the  hawk-faced 
Ironville  business  man,  yet  for  the  moment 
he  dismissed  him  from  his  mind. 

For  !his  conversation  was  just  fencing — 
golfers  would  say  the  two  young  people  were 
playing  "approach"  shots.  The  village  and 
its  personalities  were  all  very  well,  but  what 


of  hcT?  In  ten  years  one  looks  out  of  the 
window  a  good  many  times,  and  not  always 
disinterestedly. 

The  horse  was  freed  of  the  halter,  turned 
loose,  and  the  gate  shut  on  him.  There  was 
a  stile  by  the  gate.  While  Jim  lounged  with 
his  arm  over  the  gate,  Joan  seated  herself  on 
this  stile.     He  drew  out  his  cigarette  case. 

"  May  I  ?  " 

"You've  grown  manners,  Jim.  Why, 
certainly." 

She  crossed  her  shapely  legs,  right  over 
left,  and  locked  her  hands  round  her  knees 
as  he  lit  a  cigarette. 

"You?"  he  asked,  holding  out  the  open 
case. 

She  laughed,  shaking  her  linen-capped 
head.  "No,  I  haven't  learnt  Town  ways." 
(They  called  Ironville  "town"  at  Deejv 
hollow.)  "But  I'll  have  a  whiff  of  yours." 
And  taking  the  cigarette  from  bim  she  drew 
in  the  smoke,  coughed  delightfully,  fought 
the  smoke  away,  and  gave  the  fag  back  to 
him. 

"This  is  an  honoured  one,"  said  Jim,  nip- 
ping off  the  burnt  end  and  replacing  the  fag 
in  his  case. 

Again,  one  might  conjecture,  that  was  not 
all  sunburn  on  her  face.  "You  always  were 
— silly,"  she  said,  with  a  toss  of  her  capped 
head. 

As  if  to  fill  in  a  space,  he  said,  "I'm  glad 
you  don't  smoke.  I  hate  to  see  girls  smok- 
ing." 

A  little  tempestuously,  she  reversed  the 
position  of  her  knees,  left  over  right  now. 
Furtively  Jim  took  stock  of  this  quaint  new 
apparel. 

"You  see  more  of  me  now,"  she  said;  and 
laughed. 

"And  so  do  other  chaps,"  replied  Jim 
grimly.  And  suddenly  seized  the  brown, 
smooth  hand  lying  nearest  to  him.  "Is  there 
another  chap,  Joan?" 

He  saw  just  a  huge  linen  cap  and  her  pro- 
file. 

"Yes." 

"  Damn  !  "  said  Jim  fervently.  And  then, 
between  his  teeth,  "Who?" 

"Harold  Matthews." 

Jim  seemed  to  be  listening,  as  if  to  make 


h'af:e  38 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Granfa'  (pointing  to  Maple  Leaf  on  cap):    "What's  yon  reckon  to  be?' 
Young  Soldier  (trying  to  be  smart) :    "  Oh,  that's  the  rising  sun  ! " 
Granfa' :   "  Na,  lad,  I  wasn't  meanin'  yer  face." 


ByG.S.  Dixon 


sure.  Then,  "I'll  kill  him,"  he  said  tersely; 
and  strode  away  from  the  stile  into  the  road, 
where  he  stood  with  the  back  of  his  sturdy, 
khaki-clad  figure  turned  to  her. 

She  sat  still,  hands  clasping  the  top  bar 
of  the  stile.    Presently  he  returned  slowly. 

"Do  you  love  him,  Joan?" 

"  Do  all  people  marry  for  love  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  I "  he  shouted.  (Splendid 
place  in  which  to  give  way  to  a  little  emotion, 
these  unfrequented  country  lanes.)  "Then 
why  are  you  going  to  marry  the  twister?" 

"I'm  not  married  to  him  yet.  And  please 
be  polite." 

"I  beg  your  pardon."  He  put  his  elbow 
on  the  gate-post  and  looked  up  at  her  re- 
proachfully. "Couldn't  you  have  bided  a 
bit?" 

"You  amuse  me,  James  Brigstock,"  the 
girl  cried.  (She  was  annoyed  now,  and  he 
was  pleased  to  observe  that  she  was.)     "Who 


and  what  were  you,  Jim,  when  you  left  Deep- 
hollow  ?  " 

"A  bit  of  a  lad  who  worshipped  you." 

"But  you  had  robbed  Mr.  Matthews's 
orchard." 

"To  give  you  the  apples." 

"You  had  stolen  money  from  your  step- 
mother." 

"To  buy  you  trinkets." 

"You  threw  a  stone  through  the  great  new 
stained-glass  window  in  the  church." 

"Because  you  had  angered  me  by  jeering 
at  me  and  going  out  with  Jack  Tarply  in- 
stead of  with  me." 

"And  you  fought  the  policeman  who  came 
to  take  you." 

"  And  hurt  him,  so  he  had  to  let  me  go. . . . 
And  so  I  got  away."  She  drew  a  deep 
breath.     "Yes,  you  got  away  just  in  time." 

"  Well  ?  " 

"Well,  that  was  how  you  went.  And  never 


*.'  f 


umi  mi. -III.  i.v 


TAKE  COVER 


By  MacMxehaci 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  39 


a  word  came.  Not  a  card.  Folks  said  you 
had  gone  to  Canada.  Then  you  turn  up 
again  after  ten  years  and  asii  me  why  I 
couldn't  have  'bided  '  for  you  I     Oh,  Jim  1  " 

"Oh,  Joan  !  "  He  would  have  grasped  her 
hands,  but  she  locked  them  behind  her. 
"Yes,  I'm  unreasonable.  Wonder  is  you're 
not  married  and  got  a  pack  of  kids." 

She  laughed  consumedly.  "You  men  are 
so  simple,"  she  said  demurely. 

"But  why,"  demanded  Jim  in  desperation, 
"are  you  going  to  marry  him?  Will  you 
reconsider  it  ?  " 

"That  requires  consideration." 

"Of  course,  he's  rich." 

"  Will  be."  She  sighed.  "And  father  owes 
them  money.    One  has  to  think  of  him." 

"And  hasn't  father  to  think  of  you?" 

"He  thinks — it's  square  enough." 

Jim  groaned.  "Oh,  Joan,  don't  make 
yourself  miserable  for  life." 

"Indeed  I  shan't  do  that!"  she  said 
sharply.  "He's  not  a  bad  fellow — and  very 
patient." 

A  glimmer  of  hope  showed  in  the  soldier's 
face. 

"You've  kept  him  waiting?" 

She  passed  the  tip  of  her  tongue  over  her 
white  teeth. 

"I've  got  to  help  father  during  the  war. 
Short  of  men,  he  is." 

"I  see.  You're  to  be  married  when  the 
war's  over  ?  " 

"Something  of  that  sort." 

"Poor — dear— Harold  I  "  breathed  Jim  with 
the  utmost  sympathy.  "There's  you  and 
there's  him  and  there's  the  church — and  it 
might  be  in  Quebec  for  all  he  can  reach  it. 
Yes !     We  men  are  so  simple." 

More  collected  now,  he  took  another  cigar- 
ette out  of  his  case  and  lit  it. 

"Well,  Joan  dear,  I  hope  you'll  be  happy." 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised." 

He  consulted  his  wrist-watch. 

"I'm  glad  I've  come  over.  I've  leSrnt 
about  things  quite  soon.  Shall  I  come 
again  ?  " 

"I  think  you'd  better  not." 

"It  is  as  you  please.  Biit  I'd  like  to  see 
>ou  again — for  once."  He  threw  away  his 
ciKar^tte  and   spoke  earnestly.     "Come  and 


spend  just  one  day  at  Ironville  with  me.  A 
day  and  night.  W^e'll  '  picture '  and  dine 
and  do  a  theatre.  You  have  an  aunt  there, 
haven't  you?  Well,  you'll  be  visiting  your 
aunt.    Just  one  day,  Joan — give  me  one  day." 

"May  I  tell  Harold?" 

"Yes,  if  you  don't  mean  to  come." 

She  laughed.  If  you  ran  keep  a  girl 
laughing,  she'll  like  you.  Perhaps  love  you. 
Because  Life  is,  on  the  whole,  a  dull  affair. 

Man  was  first  tempted  in  a  garden.  The 
aroma,  the  nature  scents,  the  world  as  it  was 
created — this  is  the  environment  for  tempta- 
tion. And  it  was  only  for  one  day.  One 
day  after  a  ten  years'  silence.  And  then 
silence  again — and  Harold. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  all  at  once. 
"Where?" 

"  Midland  station.     When  ?  " 

"Saturday  at  twelve.  Busy — must  be  busy 
—till  then." 

"Sure  thing?" 

"Sure  thing,"  she  mlirmured  wistfully. 
"I'll  give  you  a  day,  Jim." 

The  fair  weather  of  their  first  meeting  was 
gone,  and  Indoors  had  that  invitingness 
which  inclement  conditions  without  invari- 
ably lend  it.  But  even  when  the  roads  are 
heavy,  the  hedges  dripping,  and  not  a  vestige 
of  promise  appears  in  the  leaden  skies,  a 
countryside  must  ever  possess  a  charm  for 
those  whose  sense  for  the  real  is  not  deadened 
by  a  brick-and-mortar  existence.  Even  the 
sight  of  country  people  arriving  at  a  big 
central  station  in  a  great  town  is  a  refreshing 
breath  of  the  Beyond.  Their  rough-and- 
ready  clothes,  their  strong  boots,  their  healthy 
faces  betoken  the  wisdom  of  their  choice. 

Jim  Brigstock  rather  liked  the  wet  edge  the 
day  had  as  he  awaited  the  little  motor-train 
half  an  hour  before  it  was  due.  How  he 
had  got  through  the  intervening  time  he 
could  not  have  told  you.  Controlled  in  all 
his  ways,  as  a  soldier  is,  and  especially  a 
Canadian  soldier,  he  had  betrayed  an  un- 
usual restlessness.  With  a  colonist's  thirst 
for  taking  stock  and  acquiring  information, 
he  had  "beaten  "  the  art  gallery,  the  museum, 
the  library,  and  other  public  institutions  of 
enlightened    and    progressive    Ironville    unti' 


Page  40 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


he  knew  them  by  heart.  For  the  atmosphere 
of  a  saloon  bar  choked  him.  He  Hked  lofty 
halls  and  wide  staircases.  His  blue  eyes  were 
the  eyes  of  a  man  accustomed  to  scan  far  hori- 
zons. And  if  there  was  a  touch  of  devil  in 
them,  that  is  what  you  look  for  in  the  eyes 
of  a  gentleman  of  fortune. 

Impatiently  he  paced  the  platform,  thread- 
ing his  way  through  hampers  of  dairy  pro- 
duce, crates  of  live  birds,  platoons  of  milk- 
cans,  and  odd  deposits  of  personal  luggage. 
Careful-stepping  for  all  his  absence  of  mind, 
not  once  did  he  trip  over  any  article  of  this 
miscellany  nor  come  into  collision  with  a 
hurrying  passenger.  He  even,  compliant  as 
a  Boy  Scout,  helped  an  old  lady  with  her  half- 
score  of  packages,  convoying  her  to  the  cab- 
rank,  shutting  her  in  with  her  property,  and 
giving  the  address  clearly  to  the  cabman. 
Not  a  few  noticed  the  neat,  alert  soldier  go  to 
the  old  lady's  rescue,  and  to  these  mid- 
English  folk,  distant  from  ships  and  the  voice 
of  guns  booming  in  anger,  the  "Canada"  on 
his  shoulder  conveyed  a  distinct  sense  of  the 
Empire's  world-embrace. 

But  Jim  Brigstock  had  no  thoughts  just 
now  for  England,  or  war,  or  the  reasons  of 
war.  He  was  watching  that  distant  curve  in 
the  line  where  the  motor-train  from  Deep- 
hollow  was  to  be  first  sighted.  Though  he 
knew  it  couldn't  possibly  be  expected  yet — 
and  he  was  such  a  practical  man  I 

Up  and  down  among  the  porters'  barrows, 
the  damp  pedestrians,  the  automatic  machines 
— most  impudent  profiteers  ! — he  paced  in  a 
fever  of  impatience.  Yet  to  outward  appear- 
ance he  was  calmness  itself.  More  than  one 
country  girl  shot  a  not  very  shy  glance  at 
him,  but  there  was  no  response.  His  thoughts 
were  following  the  line  from  Deephollow 
Halt  to  Ironville.  Yet  they  should  not  have 
been  I    For  was  she  not  another's  ? 

Suppose  she  didn't  come?  Suppose,  at 
prudence's  bidding,  she  turned  back  at  the 
last  moment,  in  the  way  women  have  ?  For 
the  impulse  that  says  "Yes"  recklessly  will 
as  hastily  say  "No."  What  would  he  do 
then,  stranded,  disappointed,  left!  Wait  for 
the  next  train  and  the  next,  and  then  give  it 
up?  Give  it  up.  And  turn  back  into  the 
^own  the  loneliest,  man  in  the  world. 


By  Arthur  Let 

"  Did  you  ever  see  the  Kaiser  when  you 
were  in  France  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  mum,  I  can't  say  I  did.  But  I 
saw  some  horrible  sights  out  there  all  the  same  !  " 


At  the  far  end  of  the  platform  a  garrulous 
old  gentleman  accosts  him.  "And  how  do 
you  like  Old  England,  sir?"  Hang  the  old 
buffer !  But  he  must  be  polite.  He  just 
loves  Old  England,  and  greatly  admires  the 
fine  buildings  of  Ironville.  The  old  gentle- 
man is  an  Ironville  enthusiast.  He  dis- 
courses eloquently  on  the  opulence,  the  pro- 
gressiveness  of  Ironville.  Take  the  police ! 
Was  there  ever  a  better  organised  body? 

Jim's  eyes  wandered  ominously  towards  a 
hefty  woodman's  axe  that  was  propped 
against  a  seat.  How  could  he  get  rid  of  this 
well-meaning  bore  1  What  time  was  it? 
Three  minutes  past  twelve!  Suppose,  arriving 
and  not  seeing  him,  she  took  fright  and 
popped  back  into  the  motor.«train 

"Ohl     Here  you  are!" 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  benignly  and 
understandingly  as  Jim,  forgetting  him  com- 


CAMADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  41 


By  H.  M.  Batman 

AWFUL  FATE  OF  THE  MAN  WHO  ATE  HIS  IRON   RATIONS 


Page  4S 


CANADA    IN    KHAK! 


pletely,  turned  to  find  Joan  at  his  elbow.  He 
suired  at  her— she  looked  so  different.  She 
\va-  transmogrified.  Become  a  wagoner  for 
war-time,  she  was  changed  again  to  a  woman. 
\one  could  have  taken  exception  to  her  smart 
hat.  her  well-shaped  boots,  her  trim  raincoat, 
her  kid  gloves.  Jim  took  in  the  ensemble 
quickly — and  the  blush  on  her  face.  He  held 
out  his  hands,  but  she,  very  properly,  ac- 
cepted only  one  of  them. 

"  Fancy  making  me  hunt  for  you  !  " 

"I'm  real  sorry." 

He  was  a  little  thunderstruck  by  the  change 
in  her  appearance,  and  she  was  not  displeased 
by  that.  But  how  awkward  these  men  were  ! 
She  would  have  to  take  command  of  the  ex- 
pedition, Jim  following  her  like  an  obedient 
collie.    She  didn't  altogether  like  this. 

"Well,  come  on,"  she  said,  slipping  her 
gloved  finger-tips  round  his  arm. 

And  then  Jim  woke  up.  She  was  here — in 
the  flesh  and  blood.  His  elbow  closed  on 
his  side,  imprisoning  her  hand. 

"This  is  good,"  he  breathed,  and  piloting 
her  out  into  the  station-yard  he  hailed  a  taxi. 

"Oh,  I'll  walk,  Jim,"  she  said,  with  a 
thought  for  his  soldier's  purse. 

"Not  a  step,"  he  replied,  holding  the  door 
open  for  her.  He  gave  an  address  to  the 
driver,  and  got  in.  As  the  taxi  wheeled  off 
he  seized  her  hand  and  kissed  it  through  the 
glove. 

"Jim,  you  must  not !  Or  I'll  be  sorry  I've 
come." 

He  smiled.    If  she  objected  to  that 

Through  the  crowded  streets  they  spun, 
and  lo  !  the  taxi  stopped  at  the  gates  of  a  big, 
grey  building. 

"Here  we  are,"  quoth  Jim. 

She  peeped  out.    "Where?" 

He  alighted,  and  held  out  his  hand.  They 
were  outside  a  church. 

"  Wait,"  said  Jim  to  the  driver,  and  led  her 
•within  the  gates.  It~was  drizzling,  and  no- 
body bothered  about  them. 

"Jim,"  she  said  in  a  scared  way,  "what 
does  this  mean  ?  " 

"You  know,"  he  said.  "You  are  going  to 
do  me  the  honour  of  marrying  me." 

"Oh,  Jim,  I  can't.     I'm'pledged." 


"To  a  man  you  don't  love.  Pledged  to  go 
through  a  ceremony  that  will  be  a  mockery. 
Think  of  that !  " 

"But— father  1" 

"/'//see  him  through." 

"Jim,  it's  not  right."  But  she  was  yield- 
ing, and  he  was  filled  with  an  intoxicating 
sense  of  triumph. 

"I  love  you,  Joan,"  he  said,  "and  you  lo\e 
me.  If  you  didn't,  you  wouldn't  have 
kept  Matthews  off.  You  were  waiting  for 
me — and  didn't  know  it.  I  was  in  love  with 
you  when  I  stole  for  you.  You  were  meant 
for  me,  and  if  you  marry  any  other  man, 
before  God  it  would  be  a  sin.  .  .  .  And  now, 
the  gentleman  is  waiting.  He's  been  oblig- 
ing. They  manage  these  things  quickly  for 
soldiers." 

Tenderly  but  firmly  he  took  her  hand — and 
rejoiced.    It  was  his. 

"And  now,"  she  said,  as  she  stood  again 
with  him  within  the  railings,  while  the  two 
soldier  friends  who  had  been  in  attendance 
chatted  light-heartedly  with  the  taxi-maVi,  "1 
suppose  we've  got  to  face — father." 

She  felt  like  a  bather  swept  off  his  feet  by 
an  irresistible  wave.  But  the  gold  emblem 
on  her  finger  was  very  real. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I'll  wire  before  we  start 
for  London.  We'll  just  have  time  to  give 
these  boys  some  lunch  at  the  Grand  before 
we  catch  our  train." 

"But,  clothes,  Jim,  clothes!  I'm  a 
woman." 

"You  are,"  he  said  admiringly.  "W^ell, 
while  they  have  their  coffee  we'll  slip  out  and 
buy  some." 

"'Grand  '—'buy  some.'  But  it'll  all  be  a 
great  expense,  Jim." 

He  laughed.  "I've  a  ranch  as  big  as  this 
county.  I've  made  good,  Joan.  Do  you 
mind  very  much  my  being  rather — rich?  But 
I  thought  I'd  steal  you  before  I  told  you." 

She  sighed.  "You're  worse  than  when  you 
went  away,  Jim  !  " 

"I  think  I'll  begin  to  turn  over  a  new 
leaf— after  this." 

And  there,  within  the  grim  railings,  in  the 
drizzle,  he  stole  his  first  husband's  kiss. 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


Page  43 


"THE  CANUCK" 


By  Snaffles 


Page  44 


CAXyiDA  IX  KHAKI 


LIEUT.-GENL.  SIR  R.  E.  W.  TURNER,  V.C.,  C.B.,  K.C.M.G.,  D.S.O., 

Commanding  Canadian  Forces  in  the  British  Isles 

Canadian  Official  Photograph 


CANADA    IN-  KHAKI 


Page  46 


WE    ARE    WINNING— BUT 
SEND    US    MORE    MEN! 

By    LIEUT..GENL.   SIR   R.    E.   W.  TURNER,   V.C.. 
C.B.,    R.C.M.G.,   D.S.O. 


TO  the  last  day  of  history,  Canada  will  be 
proud  and  glad  that  when  the  sudden 
and  unlocked  for  call  came  in  1914,  she  did 
not  hesitate  to  throw  herself  into  the  struggle. 

Even  when  war  was  declared,  however,  the 
great  majority  of  the  people  of  Canada  did 
not  understand  that  for  Germany  it  was 
indeed  a  war  of  "World-Power  or  Down- 
fall," which  had  been  long  and  deliberately 
planned  and  prepared.  It  was  the  common 
instinct  for  the  truth  and  the  right,  rather 
than  any  reasoned  argument,  which  drew 
Canada  to  the  side  of  Great  Britain  in  the 
struggle. 

But  the  truth  was  soon  revealed.  Ger- 
many's shameless  disregard  for  treaties  and 
honour,  her  creed  that  "necessity  knows  no 
law,"  and  the  immediate  self-revelation  of 
the  Hun  as  butcher  and  bully  in  Belgium, 
were  quick  to  open  eyes  which  had  been  shut 
and  to  shatter  illusions  which  had  been 
cherished  as  to  Germany's  civilisation. 

Now,  every  day  it  becomes  more  and  more 
apparent  that  it  is  a  War  of  Humanity 
against  a  nation  of  Ishmaelites.  Every  day 
it  becomes  more  apparent  how  complete 
would  be  the  enslavement  of  the  world  if  the 
Germans  triumphed.  Every  day  it  becomes 
more  apparent,  in  the  words  of  Sir  Robert 
Borden,  that  "Canada's  first  line  of  defence 
is  in  the  trenches  in  Flanders." 

There  are  no  uncertainties  in  the  world  so 
great  as  the  uncertainties  of  war.  After 
three  years  of  bitter  struggle,  the  Allies  seem 
to  be  slowly  gaining  the  ascendancy.  But 
one  never  can  tell.  No  man  can  yet  say  when 
this  war  will  end.  It  is  impossible  to  say 
whether  sudden  collapse  on  the  part  of  the 
enemy  may  bring  the  war  to  a  speedy  and 
unlooked-for  end.  It  is  impossible  to  say 
whether  the  war  is  well  nigh  over,  whether 


we  are  half-way  through  it,  or  only  at  the 
beginning  of  it.  We  only  know,  as  General 
Smuts,  that  great  Empire  soldier  and  states* 
man,  has  told  us — we  are  bound  to  win. 

But  whether  we  are  nearly  at  the  end  of  tha 
war,  or  half-way  through  it,  or  only  at  the 
beginning  of  it,  we  know  that  Canada  will 
be  in  it  to  the  end. 

Of  this  we  are  certain,  though  the  people 
of  Canada  are  not  a  militarist  race.  They 
knew  indeed  so  little  of  war  that  our  young 
men,  when  they  rushed  to  the  colours,  had 
an  idea  that  they  would  be  in  the  fighting 
line  within  a  few  weeks.  And  that,  to  their 
lasting  honour,  was  their  dearest  .wish.  It 
was  a  terrible  disappointment  when,  dumped 
on  to  Salisbury  Plain,  they  found  the  period 
of  training  barring  their  path,  as  it  were, 
to  the  Field  of  Glory  Overseas. 

It  was  a  sobering  check.  But  not  a  mar 
who  fought  at  Ypres  was  not  thankful  for  the 
hard,  grinding  training  and  discipline  to 
which  he  was  subjected,  before  he  was  thrown 
into  battle  with  the  Kaiser's  troops.  To 
rigid  discipline  and  careful  training,  com- 
bined with  the  valour  of  our  rnen,  are  du*- 
also  our  later  successes  on  the  Somme,  Vimy 
Ridge,  and  before  Lens. 

Nothing  can  ever  detract  from  the  glory  of 
the  men  who  stopped  the  gap  at  Ypres.  Bui 
they  were,  in  spite  of  their  training,  as  raw 
and  untrained  troops  in  comparison  to  the 
reinforcements  we  are  now  sending  Overseas. 

We,  if  Canada,  hate  war,  detest  its  science, 
and  are  nfced  by  the  gruelling  training  which 
is  necessary  for  so  damnable  a  trade.  But 
we  are  quick,  we  are  adaptable,  and  we  are 
thorough ;  and  although  we  may  be  an  army 
of  civilians  and  are  proud  of  it— and  are  deter- 
mined that  if  we  must  fight,  we  shall  still 
remain    an    army   of   civilians — our   men    in 


S     II 


Page  48 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


France  to-day  are  veterans  trained  as  severely 
and  as  thoroughly  as  any  levies  of  the 
Kaiser's. 

But  the  spirits  of  the  two  Armies  are,  of 
course,  as  wide  apart  as  the  poles.  In  the 
German  troops  we  faced  at  first  an  astonish- 
ingly virile  and  determined  Army  borne 
onwards  by  the  tradition  of  Victory  and  the 
lust  of  conquest.  But  those  Divisions  have 
melted,  as,  alas  1  have  melted  the  English 
Divisions  of  the  First  Expeditionary  Force. 
To-day,  we  have  opposite  us  men  who  know 
that  the  bubble  of  World-Conquest  has  been 
pricked,  and  lads  who  are  steeped  in  the 
spirit  of  revolt  against  the  order  of  things 
in  the  Fatherland,  before  they  are  hurled  into 
the  ranks. 

The  end  cannot  be  doubted,  but  it  can  only 
be  achieved  by  hard  training,  and  hard  fight- 
ing inspired  by  high  thinking.  It  is  dogged 
does  it.     But  there  is  a  long  way  to  go  yet. 

That  is  why  we  must,  in  the  words  of 
Kitchener,  "have  men,  and  still  more  men, 
until  the  enemy  is  crushed." 

That  is  why,  at  the  present  moment,  the 
men  in  France  are  looking  so  anxiously  to- 
wards home.  Reinforcements  are  still  the 
need  of  the  hour.  Guns  we  have,  and  ammu- 
nition we  have,  such  as  Sir  John  French  said 
the  other  day  he  never  even  dreamed  of. 
But  still  we  need  more  men. 

To  the  men  in  the"  trenches,  it  seems  in- 
credible that  any  man  at  home  should  lag 
behind. 

This  is  not  a  question  that  should  be  re- 
garded as  politics  at  all.  It  is  a'  question  of 
National,  of  Imperial  Necessity.  It  is  a 
question  of  life  or  death,  victory  or  defeat. 


That  is  why  I  hope  that,  as  surely  as  this 
book  will  reach  Canada,  the  voices  of  the  men 
in  the  Field  will  reach  Canada,  too,  and  in 
such  an  insistent  chorus  that  they  cannot  be 
drowned. 

We  all  feel  confident  that  our  need  for  men, 
and  still  more  men  from  the  land  of  our  birth, 
has  only  properly  to  be  understood  for  the 
need  to  be  supplied. 

The  prospect  of  reinforcements  may  look 
black  for  the  moment,  but  neither  I,  nor  any 
soldier  in  the  Canadian  Expeditionary  Force, 
knowing  what  Canada  has  already  done,  can 
believe  that  our  Motherland  will  fail  us  now. 

Nothing  has  so  impressed  itself  on  my  mind 
as  the  overwhelming  welcome  which  has 
been  given  to  the  Canadians  in  England,  and 
the  utterly  unselfish  and  chivalrous  way  in 
which  the  English  blazon  forth  whatever  we 
may  do  for  the  admiration  of  our  Allies.  And 
this  welcome  never  grows  less  warm,  and  the 
chorus  of  praise  never  slackens,  although  per 
head  of  the  papulation,  we  have  not  con- 
tributed so  many  men  as  have  the  British 
themselves. 

Thus,  in  addition  to  the  duty  to  our  men 
in  the  Field,  we  have  also  a  dyty  to  the 
Motherland  which  is  fighting  our  battle  every 
whit  as  much  as  she  is  her  own. 

Whether  the  Editor  of  Canada  in  Khaki 
intended  me  to  devote  the  space  which  he 
offered  to  me  in  this  manner,  I  cannot  tell, 
but  I  am  sure  he  will  forgive  me  when  I  say 
that  I  seized  this  opportunity  only  because 
I  knew  that  I  should  be  filling  a  very  wide 
pulpit  from  which  to  appeal  to  my  country- 
men to  sink  their  differences  and  to  send  us 
more  men! 


HARVEST    SONG 

By  H.  SMALLEY  SARSON 


"  Tis  harvest  time,  'tis  harvest  time, 
The  corn  lies  stocked  on  the  stubbled  plain. 

Scythe  and  sickle  sing  their  song, 

In  tune  and  time  as  they  move  along; 

"'Tis  harvest  time,  'tis  harvest  time. 
We  gather  the  golden  grain." 


"  'Tis  harvest  time,  'tis  harvest  time. 
Red  is  the  harvest  we  must  reap." 
In  the  whine  of  shrapnel  overhead 
The  guns  sing  loud  to  the  live  and  dead 
"'Vis  harvest  time,  'tis  harvest  time, 
We  gather  that  you  shall  weep." 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  47 


By  C.  E.  brock 


ECLIPSED ! 


Page  48 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


"GONE  WEST" 

By   F.   A.    McKENZIE 


IN  a  corner  of  my  desk  there  is  a  little  bundle 
of  letters,  ever  growing  bigger,  from 
parents  and  wives  overseas  asking  me  if  I  can 
obtain  news  of  their  missing  sons  and  hus- 
bands at  the  front.  They  are  letters  written 
in  agony  of  soul.  All  one  has  been  able  to 
do  in  most  cases  has  been  to  shatter  the  last 
vestige  of  hope  that  remained.  I  avoid,  when 
I  can,  opening  the  drawer  that  contains  them. 

The  heaviest  blow  of  this  war  has  fallen, 
not  on  the  soldier  who  is  killed,  but  on  the 
parents,  wives  and  children  left  behind.  You 
have  met  the  old  father  whose  only  son  dis- 
appeared, and  who  is  eating  his  heart  out 
with  anxiety  because  all  that  he  can  learn  is 
that  his  boy  is  missing.  "If  I  could  only  get 
some  definite  news,"  he  cries.  Alas !  in  most 
cases  he  never  will.  We  all  know  the  mother 
whose  life  has  come  to  a  sudden  stop  because 
her  only  boy  has  gone.  What  can  we  say  to 
people  such  as  these?  To  talk  of  courage, 
submission  and  patience  to  them  sounds  the 
merest  mockery,  at  least,  until  the  first  pas- 
sion, of  grief  has  exhausted  itself. 

The  waste  of  it !  we  cry.  These  men  who 
have  gone  were  the  very  pick  of  our  nation, 
trained  leaders  of  the  rising  generation.  War 
gave  the  final  touch  to  their  great  qualities. 
It  taught  them  endurance,  it  tested  their  un- 
selfishness, it  developed  their  manhood  to  the 
full.  These  were  the  men  fitted,  if  ever  men 
were  fitted,  to  create  a  new  and  greater 
Empire.    The  waste  of  it  I 

And  yet  is  it  wholly  waste  ?  Have  all  their 
great  qualities  really  gone  for  nothing? 

A  father  known  to  me,  himself  a  world- 
famous  man,  lost  his  favourite  son  on  the 
Western  Front.  The  boy  died  splendidly 
when  going  to  the  rescue  of  others.  He  had 
cut  short  a  brilliant  college  career  to  take  up 
a  commission.  His  friends  had  already,  in 
the  days  before  the  war,  detected  the  touch  of 
genius  in  him,  and  not  without  cause. 


A  woman  friend  approached  the  father. 
"What  a  waste  I "  she  said  pitifully,  "that  all 
his  genius  should  have  been  thrown  away." 
The  father  turned  on  her  fiercely.  "Waste  !  " 
he  said,  with  great  emphasis.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  waste?  If  I  believed  that  my  son's 
life  and  sacrifice  had  been  lost  for  nothing, 
I  would  go  mad.  Thank  God  I  know  better 
than  that  I  Do  you  think  that  all  his  bigness 
and  all  his  goodness  came  to  an  end  when  a 
sniper's  bullet  struck  him  ?  No  I  No  !  I 
No  !  !  I    These  things  can't  die  !  " 

There  are  times  when  death  seems  glorious 
even  to  the  man  who  wants  least  to  die.  I 
remember  on  one  occasion  being  asked  to  go 
on  patrol  in  a  warship  m  a  mine  and  sub- 
marine haunted  area.  "It's  not  likely  they'll 
get  us,"  said  one  Naval  officer  before  we 
started.  "But  if  they  do,  can  there  be  a  more 
glorious  death  ?  " 

He  spoke  simply,  naturally,  and  as  a  matter 
of  course.  That  is  the  spirit  of  the  Navy. 
That  is  the  spirit  of  the  Army. 

No  soldier  wants  death.  No  soldier  wants 
wounds.  It  is  the  hope  and  prayer  of  every 
man  that  he  may  come  back,  and  come  back 
whole  to  home  and  kin.  But  if  this  is  not  to 
be,  "Can  there  be  a  more  glorious  death?" 

A  young  soldier  came  one  night  to  my 
rooms  in  London  in  great  bitterness  of  spirit, 
and  as  we  sat  together  over  the  fire  he  told 
me  of  his  troubles.  "They  are  threatening  to 
send  me  home,"  he  said.  "I'm  a  crock.  A 
medical  board  has  reported  that  I  am  not  fit 
to  go  to  the  Front.  Fancy  having  come  this 
far,  and  then  being  obliged  to  go  back  home 
overseas  a  failure,  to  have  one's  friends  think 
of  one  as  a  man  not  fit  to  fight." 

And  then  his  voice  rose  a  bit.  "I  shan't 
do  it  1  "  he  cried.  "I  will  get  across  the 
Channel  somehow  1  There  is  a  big  fight 
coming  on.  I'll  sneak  out  and  join  my  bat- 
talion and  go  over  the  top  with  them.    Maybe 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  i» 


I'll  get  killed.  That  would  be  a  fine  finish  ! 
But  to  go  back  home  a  failure — I  can't  do  it. 
Wouldn't  it  be  lucky,"  he  talked  on,  "if  I 
got  knocked  out  leading  my  platoon  ?  I  don't 
know  much  about  religion,  but  I'm  sure  that 
no  man  could  go  into  the  other  world  better 
than  when  he  is  strung  up  to  the  best  that  is 
in  him,  as  you  must  be  when  you  are  going 
forward  under  fire." 

All  along  the  line  of  the  Western  Front 
one  sees  graves,  sometimes  solitary  graves, 
sometimes  little  groups,  sometimes  vast  ceme- 
teries with  neat  lines  of  wooden  crosses — 
crosses,  incidentally,  largely  made  by  Ger- 
man prisoners  in  England.  British  graves, 
French  graves,  German  graves,  lie  close  to- 
gether. Most  of  the  crosses  have  names, 
sometimes  many  names  on  them.  Others 
have  the  simple  inscription,  "Sacred  to  the 
memory  of  an  unknown  British  soldier,"  or 
"Here  rests  unknown  French  comrades." 

Then  we  come  to  the  German  graves. 
"Hier  ruht  in  Gott "  ("Here  rests  in  God"). 
We  leave  the  inscriptions,  the  faded  flowers, 
the    laudations    of    our   enemies    untouched. 


May  they  do  the  same  over  the  graves  of  our 
boys ! 

Yet  for  every  grave  that  is  marked,  a  score 
and  more  have  no  sign.  In  one  valley  known 
to  me,  close  on  200,000  French  and  Germans 
are  said  to  lie  dead  beneath  the  soil  in  lines 
and  swathes  and  packed  trenches.  There  are 
few  crosses  there  as  yet. 

Some  day,  when  fighting  is  over,  we  will 
go  back  and  erect,  outside  Ypres,  on  the  great 
ridges  of  Messines  and  Vimy,  on  the  undu- 
lating lands  of  the  Somme,  and  in  the  mud 
bogs  of  Belgium,  splendid  memorials  to  our 
lads  to  mark  our  remembrance.  But  their 
memories  need  no  such  token  to  keep  them 
green.  Dead,  their  work  lives.  The  very 
sacrifice  of  their  lives  is  bringing  a  new  era 
of  liberty  and  justice  to  the  whole  world.  We 
mourn  for  them,  but  even  in  mourning  let  us 
remember  to  rejoice  and  be  proud.  For  if 
the  grief  is  ours,  the  glory  of  great  accom- 
plishments is  theirs.  Youth  cut  off  in  its 
prime  has  accomplished  more  than  most  lives 
that  have  stretched  out  to  three  score  and  ten 
years  of  self-centred  existence. 


f^-ir^- 


^a*t52rt=ri?i 


JUST  A  REMINDER 


By  Tom  ColirtU 


Page  90 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


By  W.  F.  Thomas 
Jack  (acting  as  amanuensis) :   "  What  shall  I  say,  Tom  ? " 

Tom  :    "  Durned  if  I  know.     Let's  see — er — '  My  dear  wife — er — I'm  all  right — ei — an'  you're  all 
right — er — so  that's  all  right,  as  it  leaves  me  at  present.    .     .     .     Your  loving  husband.'" 


CHEERO ! 

By  PRIVATE   F.   W.   DAGLISH. 


When  it's  raining  cats  and  dogs  and  you're 

feeling  kind  of  glum, 
And  your  dug-out's  full  of  water  and  your 

billet's  on  the  bum; 
With    mud    up    to   your   eyebrows,    you    go 

marching  through  the  street. 
And   then    you    drag    and    push    along    two 

weary  things  called  feet, 
With  iron   rations  at  the  end,   your  hungry 

face  to  greet ; 
Tighten  up  your  belt,  my  lad,  you're  not  a 

"fed-up  "  hero. 
Put  on  that  British  bull-dog  smile 

And  Cheero  !  Clieero  !  Cheero  ! 


When  you're  going  "O'er  the  top"  and  your 

stomach's  kind  of  queer. 
And    you    try    to   put   on    "Brave   face"   to 

conquer  so-called  fear, 
But     somehow     lumps     keep     rising     and 

a-sticking  in  your  throat. 
And   your   pal    politely   tells   you   this   time 

they've  got  your  goat. 
And  you  wish  you  were  a  sailor,  with  just  a 

chance  to  float. 
Buck  up,  my  lad,  don't  worry,  your  heart  is 

not  at  zero. 
Pull  off  that  British  bull-dog  stunt 

And  Cheero  !  Cheero  !  Cheero  ! 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  61 


When  your  "Kurnel"   is  a  rotter  and  very 

hard  to  please, 
Who  makes  you  always  work  like  hell  and 

never  stand  at  ease, 
Inspecting  rifles  every  day,  brass  buttons  all 

galore ; 
When   going   the   rounds  finds   trouble  and 

always  looks  for  more. 
And  makes  your  comrades  quarrelsome  and 

N.C.O.'s  quite  sore; 
Come,  brace  yourself  together  and  never  have 

a  fearo. 
PuirofT  that  good  "old  soldier"  stunt 
And  Cheero  I  Cheero  1  Cheero  1 


When    you're    travelling    to    Blighty    in    a 

dreamy  kind  of  way, 
Just  peppered  full  of  shrapnel  and  not  feeling 

very  gay; 
The    bed    it    seems   as    hard    as   wood,    your 

muscles  kind  o'   weak, 
Your  life  jusi    hanginc   by  a  thread!      'Sh  ! 

Such  a  narrow  .s(jueak. 
Say  1     There's  lots  of  life  left  in  you  yet,  fo' 

Blighty  is  a  dearo. 
There's     music-halls     and     theatres,     winr 

women,  glorious  beero, 
You'll  "swing  the  lead  "  in  Leicester  Square. 
Eh  !  Cheero  I  Cheero  I  Cheero  I 


THE    STAFF   CLERK 

By  SERGEANT  W.  T.  KNIGHT. 


It's  the  soldier's  right  to  grumble, 

When  in  billet  or  in  line. 
When  the*  raid  becomes  a  fumble. 

Or  when  things  are  going  fine. 
But  you've  heard  so  many  stories 

Of  their  life  where  dangers  lurk. 
So  for  once  we'll  hear  the  wailings 

Of  a  poor  Staff  Clerk. 

We  have  heard  about  the  sniper, 

Calling  down  the  heavies'  wrath. 
Of  the  bomber  and  the  piper. 

Making  fun  of  Heinle's  Staff; 
Yet  these  heroes  all  do  tremble 

When  Lieutenants  act  the  "Turk," 
But  it's  cursings  c{  a  General 

On  a  poor  Staff  Clerk. 

Though  the  C.T.  may  be  narrow, 

And  each  shell-hole  filled  with  rain. 
Yet  the  narrowness  of  Redcaps 

Sends  a  Staff  Clerk  quite  insane. 
For  it's  "Type  this,"  "Check  my  figures," 

"What's  the  strength  of  men  at  kirk?" 
"Order bombs,"  "Phone Signals,"  "Dam'it, 

You're  a  poor  Staff  Clerk." 

In  the  Field. 


While  they  never  take  Stafif  courses. 

They  must  know  the  Martial  Law, 
Quote  K.R.  and  O.  on  horses, 

And  ten  thousand  items  more. 
G.R.O.'s  and  ancient  history 

They  can  tell  you  with  a  jerk. 
For  the  modus  operandi 

Ask  a  poor  Staff  Clerk. 

When  the  guns  have  ceased  to  thunder 

And  the  front  line  is  no  more; 
When  the  Kaiser  sees  his  blunder 

And  they  stop  this  bloody  war; 
What  a  life  will  be  the  private's — 

Lots  of  fun  and  little  work ; 
But  they'll  still  be  wanting  statements 

From  the  poor  Staff  Clerk, 

When  we've  gained  the  last  objective 
Of  this  life  and  get  above. 

Where  the  soldiers  stop  their  scrapping. 
And  do  nought  but  sing  of  love, 

Then  their  faithfulness  to  duty. 
And  the  jobs  they  did  not  «:hirk. 

Will  be  entered  in  the  Good  Rook- 
By  the  poor  Staff  Clerk. 

W.  T.   Knkjht. 


Fage  B2 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


By  H.  ].  Mowat,  O.M.F.C. 

He  held  her  hand  with  the  grip  of  one  who  never  meant  to  let  it  go  again " 


THE  LUSITANIA   BEGAN   IT 

A  Short   Story  by   MAX  PEMBERTON 

Illustrated  bp  H,  J.  MoWat 


CHAPTER     I 

I  SHALL  call  the  man  Anthony  just  be- 
cause that  was  not  his  name.  And  I  shall 
speak  of  the  City  just  because  that  was  the 
place  in  which  he  did  not  live.  Yet  for  all 
that  this  is  a  true  narration,  and  there  are 
some  who  will  be  able  to  lift  the  veil  and  to 
cry  "That  is  he  1" 

Now,  Anthony  is  a  very  good  name,  and 
here  was  an  Anthony  who  was  heard  of  in 
a  little  matter  connected  with  a  bush.  But 
this  was  not  the  kind  of  Anthony  of  whom 
I  am  writing.  He,  quoting  the  dramatist, 
would   have   told    you   that   he   could   resist 


everything  but  temptation.  In  the  American 
City  he  was  the  "horrid  example"  at  whom 
parsons  pointed  the  finger,  while  prigs 
thanked  God  they  were  not  Anthony.  A  hard 
hitter  with  a  fine  punch  in  the  right.  But 
somehow  or  other  the  poor  devil  was  always 
turning  to  the  left. 

Anthony  would  have  liked  to  marry  Nance 
Oldfield,  but  Papa  of  that  ilk  was  not  taking 
any.  He  had  a  ridiculous  aversion  to  keep- 
ing a  son-in-law  whose  future  was  behind 
him.  A  man  of  affairs,  he  spoke  of  dividends 
and  investments  and  the  sweat  of  the  brow 
and  other  trifles.  Also  he  objected  to  four 
aces  when  four  kings  looked  so  much  better. 


C  AX  AD  A  I\  KTIAKl 


Page  53 


By  n.  J.  Moxi-at,  O.U.F.C. 

"They  were  toasting  the  sinking  of  the  'Lusitania.'       Good   God!     and   he^  must   listen   to   it! 
If  ever  a  man  saw  red,  it  was  Anthony  Viner  that  night" 

' '  The  '  LusiTAXU '  Began  It  ' ' 


Page  54 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


BACK  TO  THE  DAYS  OF  ARMOUR:  GERMAN  SNIPER'S  HELMET 


Vizor  down:  the  protection    given    to    the 
head  is  complete 


Vizor   up:    worn    thus   the   helmet   has   a 
Cromwellian  appearance 


This  helmet  shows  the  care   of   the   Germans   for   their   snipers.      The   cut-out     on     the    right 

allows  the  rifle  to  be  held  in  proper  position 

Cahadian  Official  Photographs 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


PageM 


In  vain  did  Nance  point  out  that  there  was 
not  a  better  horseman  nor  a  finer  shot  for  ten 
miles  round  than  the  particular  person  in 
question.  Papa  Oldfield  did  not  like  pistols, 
and  horses  were  prehistoric.  He  shut  the 
door  in  Anthony's  face,  and  said,  "There, 
my  darling,"  when  Nance  shed  a  tear.  But 
.Anthony  was  not  there.  Most  probably  he 
had  gone  off  to  a  billiard  saloon. 

One  night  Anthony  had  a  rare  old  row  in 
that  paternal  mansion  and  for  ever  shook  off 
the  dust  from  his  heels  upon  a  mat  which 
welcomfed  him  with  a  salve.  Nance  was 
out  at  a  party  and  that  riled  him  to  begin 
with.  Then  Papa  Oldfield  had  talked  about 
the  Lusitania  and  had  stammered  e?ccuses  for 
the  Hun.  Anthony  could  not  stand  that  at 
any  price.  He  told  the  Old  Man  off,  threw 
in  what  he  knew  about  Whited  Sepulchres, 
and  handed  out  certain  gems  of  speech  which 
caused  prayers  to  be  offered  for  him  next 
Sunday.  Then  he  clapped  his  "broad- 
brimmed  sombrero"  upon  his  agitated  fore- 
head and,  as  the  novelists  say,  he  set  out  into 
the  night — ^a  soft  and  balmy  night  and  re- 
dolent of  stars.  Would  you  believe  that  sucV" 
a  man  was  something  of  a  poet  ?  'Tis  true 
nevertheless.  Despite  that  wonderful  "right" 
and  the  bad  habit  of  saying  "hell"  upon 
unnecessary  occasions,  Anthony  had  read 
Shelley  and  Keats  and  would  have  quoted 
you  more  than  one  line  of  Omar  Khayyam 
incorrectly.  The  few  who  knew  him  would 
swear  he  was  as  tender-hearted  as  a  spring 
chicken.  He  was  even  a  dreamer  sometimes 
and  would  walk  alone  upon  the  prairie. 

Anthony  left  Papa  Oldfield's  house  that 
night  in  a  state  of  indignation  which  might 
fairly  be  called  righteous.  His  girl  had  gone 
to  a  party,  perhaps  with  that  dirty  rotter 
Oscar  Helferich ;  the  Old  Man  had  dared  him 
to  cross  his  threshold  for  ever  and  ever,  amen, 
and  his  best  pal  Willy  Playton  had  gone 
down  in  the  Lusitania.  Enough  to  make  a 
man  drink  anything  that  was  handy,  especially 
when  the  other  man  paid  for  it.  Fortunately 
Anthony  was  in  no  mood  for  the  bars,  and 
he  turned  instead  to  the  meadows — those  wide 
meadows  of  the  lakeside  where  the  poets 
should  have  dreamed  and  the  marigold  tmdc 
merry. 


The  City  now  lay  behind  him  and  the  wide 
world  of  waters  was  his  horizon.  He  had 
passed  from  mean  streets  to  a  park  and  from 
a  park  to  a  river  drive.  All  kinds  of  wild 
ideas  were  in  his  head,  but  one  idea  was 
paramount — he  would  see 'Nance  Oldlield  no 
more,  and  his  best  friend  was  dead.  Tragic 
indeed  that  this  war  so  far  away  should  have 
killed  the  one  man  who  understood  him.  He 
had  never  thought  much  about  it  hitherto,  but 
the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania  had  come  like  a 
vision  in  the  dark.  What  human  devils  were 
these  who  sent  women  and  children  to  their 
death  in  the  great  Atlantic  Ocean  which  man 
had  conquered  so  proudly  ?  And  what  Cause 
could  be  right  which  needed  such  weapons? 
Oh,  he  could  depict  it  all—  the  great  steamer 
and  the  still  sea  and  the  periscopes  above  the 
swell ;  the  roar  of  the  explosion ;  the  cries  of 
the  doomed ;  the  heeling  and  sinking  of  the 
giant  ship;  women's  hair  spread  upon  the 
waves  and  their  eyes  looking  upward  to 
the  heavens.  An  awful  scene — it  gripped  him 
like  a  nightmare. 

Remember,  he  walked  by  the  lakeside  and 
his  hallucination  will  not  surprise  you.  It 
was  a  dark  night  with  a  wonderful  heaven  of 
stars  above.  He  stood  alone  gazing  over  the 
waters,  and  while  he  stood  he  saw  the 
Lusitania  sink  for  the  second  time.  Yes, 
there  she  was,  rising  like  a  splendid  castle 
above  the  still  sea ;  her  lights  all  glowing ;  her 
passengers  thinking  of  home  or  the  old 
country.  And  then  he  saw  her  heel  suddenly 
as  clearly  as  ever  he  saw  anything  in  his  life 
— down  she  went  amid  terrible  sounds  which 
left  nothing  but  that  echo  of  human  sorrow 
most  weird  to  hear.  Oh,  those  cries  of  the 
living,  how  awful  they  were  !  They  rang  in 
his  ears  like  a  very  dirge  of  death.  He  stag- 
gered on  and  still  he  heard  them.  If  he  could 
but. save  the  women  and  the  children.  Help- 
less, he  clenched  his  hands  and  cursed  the  men 
who  had  done  this  thing.  No  longer  con- 
scious of  direction,  he  walked  to  and  fro  like 
a  man  distracted.  His  only  <l«sire  was  to 
avenge  the  dead — to  wring  the  very  life  out 
of  the  men  who  had  done  this  thing. 

All  this  time,  mark  you,  the  cries  con- 
tinued. Anthony  came  to  himself  presently, 
and  a  measure  of  sober  reason   returned  to 


Paga  M 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


him.  It  was  odd,  surely,  that  he  still  heard 
tM  doleful  sbunds  which  had  come  to  him 
from  a  phantom  ship.  Yet  they  were  real 
enough,  and  when  he  had  convinced  himself 
of  the  fact,  he  stood  and  asked  himself  where 
he  was.  By  the  lakeside  certainly,  but  also 
in  front  of  a  considerable  house.  He  looked  at 
it  closely  and  thought  that  he  recognised  it. 
Was  it  not  the  house  of  Oscar  Helferich,  that 
slobbering  German  whose  name  he  could 
hardly  repeat  with  patience.  He  was  sure  of 
it,  and  now  he  convinced  himself  that  the 
cries  did  not  come  from  any  phantom  ship  at 
all  but  from  this  very  mansion.  As  true  as 
the  Gospel  it  was. 

He  went  into  the  garden  and  up  to  one 
of  the  open  windows,  and  looking  in  he  saw 
a  banquet  spread  and  men  and  women  about 
it,  and  they  were  lifting  their  glasses — to 
what?  To  the  very  tragedy  which  had 
shaken  the  civilised  world  to  its  foundations. 
They  were  toasting  the  sinking  of  the 
Lusitania — those  d — — d  Huns.  Good  God, 
and  he  must  listen  to  it.  If  fiver  a  man  saw 
red  in  his  life  it  was  Anthoi^y  Viner  that 
night. 

CHAPTER    II 

They  hurried  back  to  the  City  together — 
Nance  Oldfield  in  the  shelter  of  his  bruised 
arm  and  her  tears  upon  his  cheek. 

"You  must  go,"  she  would  say  from  time 
to  time;  "if  Oscar  is  dead  they  will  bring  it 
in  murder.  Oh,  Tony,  you  know  what  they 
are.  For  God's  sake,  do  not  let  them  take 
you.    Go  to-night,  because  I  ask  it." 

He  was  quite  dazed;  his  clothes  were 
mangled  and  torn  and  there  was  blood  on  his 
face.  His  one  desire  was  to  know  what  he 
had  done  in  the  room,  and  of  that  she  could 
give  him  no  clear  account. 

"I  know  that  I  did  their  supper  in  and 
threw  Oscar  over  the  table,"  said  he ;  "the  big 
fellow  caught  me  one  on  the  top,  but  he  might 
have  been  an  accordion  when  the  wind  came 
out  of  him.  If  the  dark-faced  man  says  his 
jaw  is  broken,  he's  a  liar,  for  I  heard  him 
talking  afterwards.  There's  four  of  'em  on 
the  police  council,  and  that's  as  good  as  hemp 
for  me  if  Oscar's  really  gone  for  ever.    Guess 


I'll  have  to  go,  Nance — but  I'm  not  sorry, 
and  so  help  me  God,  I'd  do  it  every  night  if 
I  met  another  party  like  that," 

She  did  not  reprove  him,  telling  him  in- 
stead how  she  had  come  to  go  to  the  party, 
her  father  wishing  it  and  she  not  under- 
standing at  all  what  kind  of  an  affair  it  was. 
Her  whole  anxiety  was  to  get  him  out  of  the 
City  quickly,  before  the  police  could  act,  and 
here  she  proved  herself  a  woman  of  decision 
and  device  beyond  all  he  had  imagined. 
Money,  clothes — he  must  have  the  former,  but 
the  latter  did  not  matter.  His  qualms  were 
silenced  with  an  insistence  and  an  authority 
which  seemed  ridiculous  coming  from  so 
fragile  a  person.  He  would  never  see  her 
again,  perchance,  yet  here  she  was  promising 
him  that  she  would  never  forget,  and  implor- 
ing him  for  God's  sake  to  leave  her.  And 
in  the  end  he  went  off  like  a  robber  that  is 
hunted,  into  the  woods  and  the  by-ways — 
sweafing  that  Helferich,  anyway,  should  not 
have  the  satisfaction  of  taking  him,  and 
without  a  thought  of  that  future  he  must  now 
face  alone. 

He  was  over  the  frontier  by  the  following 
afternoon  and  in  the  good  city  of  Montreal 
a  few  days  afterwards.  When  somebody 
suggested  to  him  that  he  should  go  and  fight 
Germans,  the  words  came  as  a  revelation 
from  on  high.  Why  had  he  never  thought 
of  it?  He  could  stop  the  singing  of  some 
of  them,  surely;  and  that  way  lay  redemp- 
tion. Anthony  put  on  his  uniform  gladly. 
When  the  good  ship  sailed  for  the  East  at 
last,  there  was  no  man  aboard  as  musical 
as  he. 

"Going  to  toast  them  in  Flanders,"  he 
wrote  to  Nance.     It  was  a  true  saying. 


CHAPTER     III 

One  night,  after  many  days,  he  stood  in  an 
observation  post  and  looked  across  the 
wilderness  bevond. 

It  was  black  dark  and  a  cold  wind  blowing. 
From  time  to  time  a  big  gun  boomed  omin- 
ously and  there  was  the  occasional  rattle  of 
the  trench  mortar  or  the  blast  of  the  Minnie 
which  declared  the  Hun  to  be  at  work. 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  67 


By  Arthur  MortUmd 

"  It's  all  right,  Hans,  don't  get  scared.     We  air't  short  of  glycerine " 


Page  58 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Anthony,  however,  was  not  thinking  of 
Xo  Man's  Land  at  all.  His  mind  was  back 
to  the  City  and  the  lake.  Again  he  heard 
the  Hun  singing;  once  more  looked  in 
tlirough  the  open  window  and  saw  Nance 
at  the  table  and  the  uplifted  glasses  of 
the  Germans  who  toasted  the  Lusitania's 
dead. 

What  was  Nance  doing  this  night,  and 
why  had  he  not  heard  from  her  these  many 
weeks?  Was  she  still  going  to  parties,  and 
would  they  have  music  there?  Anyway,  he 
thought  that  she  might  have  found  an  hour 
to  write  to  him,  and  he  remembered  in  the 
same  breath  all  that  the  poets  had  said  about 
women — fickle  jades,  and  God  help  the  man 
who  trusted  them.  Yet  for  all  that,  he  was 
not  quite  sure  that  he  would  put  Nance  Old- 
lield  in  that  category,  and  he  began  to  make 
excuses  for  her,  saying  that  she  might  have 
written  after  all  and  her  letter  be  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea.  That  would  mean  the  sinking  of 
another'  big  ship,  and  the  champagne  corks 
popping  and  more  music  from  the  Huns. 
Why,  they  were  always  opening  their  dirty 
throats,  and  even  as  he  stood  there  he  could 
hear  them  across  the  wilderness. 

Anthony  listened  a  long  time  and  then  he 
became  quite  sure  of  it.  Somewhere  in  the 
void  a  group  of  Huns  were  carolling,  just  as 
they  had  done  on  the  night  the  Lusitania 
sank;  and  'By  God,"  said  he,  "it's  the  same 
song  that  I  heard  by  the  lakeside." 

He  ould  not  stand  this  at  all  and  the 
longer  he  listened  to  it,  the  less  had  he  the 
will  to  suffer  it  patiently. 

When  he  called  his  new  pal  Bill  Barnard 
to  him  and  told  him  the  story,  they  agreed  it 
was  damnable,  and  arranged  a  surprise  party 
upon  the  spot.  What  was  to  prevent  them 
going  over  together?  "Regimental  orders," 
you  say,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 

But  Anthony  did  not  give  thirty  cents  for 
regimental  or  any  other  orders  to-night.  An 
idea  had  come  to  him  and  had  remained  an 
obsession. 

"Bill,"  says  he,  "we  ought  to  be  at  that 
party." 

Bill  agreed  with  a  grim  nod. 

"Say,  Bill,  what  do  folks  take  to  parties? 
Crackers    and    things,    I've    heard.      Guess 


we'll  fill  our  pockets  all  right.  Are  you  ready 
for  a  sortie  among  the  Alleymans,  Bill? 
Those  that  are  in  favour,  hold  up  their 
hands." 

Bill  did  not  hold  up  his  hand,  but  he  was 
in  favour  nevertheless. 

Presently  they  were  over  and  out  and 
crawling  like  the  parson's  snake  in  the  grass, 
away  towards  the  music  which  had  so 
charmed  them. 

In  Bill's  report  next  morning  he  remarked 
that  he  had  "bombed  the  creator  at  nine 
o'clock" — but  this  was  merely  his  way  of 
spelling  it,  and  what  he  meant  to  say  was 
that  he  had  thrown  a  grenade  into  the  musical' 
hole  and  that,  as  he  remarked  tersely, 
"  groans  were  heard." 

Anthony,  however,  made  no  report  at  all, 
and  for  reasons  which  were  obvious.  If  he 
could  have  told  you  anything  which  was 
useful  about  it,  he  would  have  said  that  he 
looked  into  a  deep  hole  beyond  a  hummock 
and  saw  a  doorway  and  stanchions  of  wood 
and  sandbags,  and  beyond  it  the  red  glow  of 
a  coke  fire  in  a  crazy  grate. 

The  light  showed  him  three  dead  Germans, 
and  one  of  them  he  recognised.  He  was 
Oscar  Helferich,  the  man  who  had  toasted 
the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania  in  the  house  by 
the  lakeside. 

All  this  he  would  have  told  you,  we  say,  if 
he  could  have  given  any  coherent  account 
of  it. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  craqkers  which 
he  and  Bill  tossed  down  as  a  lively  accom- 
paniment to  the  carolling  raised  the  devil's 
own  row  along  that  particular  front  and  set 
the  guns  barking  with  a  vengeance.  Soon 
star  lights  were  glowing  in  the  sky  above  and 
machine-guns  rattling  on  the  earth  below. 
They  hooked  it  with  expedition,  the  pair  of 
them,  as  Bill  remarked,  and  it  was  real  bad 
luck  which  put  a  bullet  through  Tony's  back 
at  the  very  moment  he  was  about  to  say 
"Cheer-oh"  to  his  comrades  in  the  trench. 
Nevertheless,  these  are  the  facts,  and  down 
he  went  in  a  heap  and  soon  the  stretcher 
bearers  were  trotting  him  to  the  base  hospital 
and  apologising  for  their  haste  on  the  score  of 
danger. 

"The   worst   piece   of   land   in    Flanders," 


CANADA  IX  KHAKI 


Page  59 


THE  KING'S  VISIT  TO  THE  CANADIANS  AT  THE  FRONT 


His  Majesty  was  deeply  interested  in  the  battleground  of  Vimy  Ridge,   which  he  is  here  seen 
crossing.       General    Currie    is   immediately    following    the    King 


His  Majesty  is  presented  with  a  souvenir  of 
the  battle  and  is  well  pleased 


His  majesty  usienb  to  ii.e  tale  ot  a  man  who 
fought  at  Vimy  Ridge 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


r  AX  ADA  IN  KHAKI 


Page  60 


DOMINION  DAY 


WAS  CELEBRATED  BY  SERVICES  IN  THE  FIELD 


Is  It  a  i3oche>      -An  aeroplane  crea 


tes  a  diversion  during  the  sermon 


The   Staff    faced    the   Chaplan  at  the  drumhead  service 


Masses  of  steel-helmeted  men  listened  with  close  attention  '^/^^^.^--^f  "^,'^;.^,^,;„,,„.,,, 

C(iiui(h(ni    OflicKil   I  iKiiiiiiiuiJiia 


VAX  AD  A  IX  KHAKI 


Page  61 


CORPS  COMMANDER  WATCHES  THE  VICTORS  OF  HILL  70 


Lt.-Gen.   Sir  Arthur  Currie,   who  directed   the  Canadians'  lightning  and  brilliant  attack  on  the 
"Key  to  Lens,"   stands  in  a  village  street  to  watch  his  victorious  troops  file  past 


Pipers  of  a  Canadian  kilted  regiment  with  their  veteran  goat  led  the  proud  march  back  to  a  well- 
earned  rest  in  billets  after  some  of  the  stillest  fighting  they  had  known 

Canttdiaii   Official  Photographs 


I>(Hie  62 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


LATEST  MODES  IN  GERMAN  GAS  MASKS 


These  gas  masks,    taken   from  the  Germans  by  Canadians,   show  that,   owing  to  shortage  of 
rubber,    the    flexible    parts    are  now  made  of  leather 


m 


1  hese   gas   masks,    also   captured    trom   tne   eiernian^.       > .  t;  no     lOLCCtion  tor  tne  eyes.      1  hey  are 
used  by  runners  in  the  trenches  where  progress  would  be  impeded  by  goggles 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


CAXADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  63 


they  said.  Tony  accepted  the  excuse,  but 
did  not  care  a  dump  either  way. 

Despite  the  pain  of  it,  he  was  still  thinking 
of  that  amazing  apparition  in  the  dug-out — 
Oscar  Helferich  lying  dead  there.  Miracles, 
then,  were  happening,  in  this  ancient  uni- 
verse after  all. 

CHAPTER     IV 

In  the  hospital  Tony  dreamed  many  dreams, 
but  they  were  not  wholly  unpleasant.  His 
wound  was  awkward  but  not  dangerous,  the 
doctor  said,  and  he  spent  his  time  in  reading 
stories  about  impossible  people  and  wonder- 
ing when  the  beautiful  hospital  train  would 
take  him  back  to  Blighty.  What  he  was  go- 
ing to  do  afterwards  he  knew  no  more  than 
the  dead. 

Nance  had  not  written  to  him,  and 
since  she  had  not  written,  he  determined  that 
he  would  not  return  to  Canada  even  should 
they  invalid  him  out.  Perhaps  be  thought 
he  ought  to  have  got  the  Military  Medal  or 
something  for  heaving  crackers  into  Oscar 
Helferich's  pleasant  little  party;  but  his 
officers  merely  seemed  to  think  that  he  had 
been  a  fool,  while  his  friend  Bill  had  been 
severely  told  off  by  the  Colonel.  So  it  seemed 
that  things  were  all  wrong  for  him  now,  and 
he  really  began  to  wonder  if  it  would  not 
be  better  to  set  off  for  the  East  and  teach  card 
efames  to  the  heathen  Chinee.        ^ 

In  this  mood  he  fell  asleep  one  night  and 
actually  dreamed  that  Nance  had  married 
Helferich.  He  saw  the  whole  thing  as  clearly 
as  possible — the  big  church  in  the  City  he 
knew  so  well ;  smart  autos  dashing  up  to  the 
door;  bridesmaids  in  flummery,  and  a  wed- 
ding-cake as  big  as  a  barrel.  When  they  got 
back  to  the  house  again  they  opened  the 
champagne  bottles  and  drank  once  more  that 
cursed  toast  which  had  sent  him  across  to 
Europe  in  search  of  the  Hun.  How  plainly 
he  heard  it  and  how  clearly  he  saw  Nance 
herself — yet  not  dressed  as  a  bride,  but,  oddly 


enough,  in  the  uniform  of  the  Canadian  Red 
Cross — that  uniform  he  had  seen  so  often 
and  admired  so  much  since  he  had  come  to 
France. 

This  he  could  not  understand,  and  he  felt 
inclined  to  remonstrate  with  her  about  it. 
Even  to  marry  Helferich  she  ought  to  have 
worn  something  more  suitable,  and  he  told 
her  so  emphatically,  rising  at  the  breakfast 
table  to  make  a  speech,  to  which  nobody 
apparently  desired  to  listen,  Helferich  least 
of  all.  When  they  pulled  him  down,  a  strong 
hand  upon  his  shoulder,  he  resisted  actively 
and  there  was  very  nearly  another  scene  such 
as  there  had  been  in  the  old  house  by  the 
lakeside.  Fortunately,  however,  this  did  not 
come  to  be,  and  with  a  last  violent  protest 
expressed  in  no  measured  terms,  Master  Tony 
opened  his  eyes  and  saw  Nance  at  his  bed- 
side. 

"Hallo,"  says  he,  "I  thought  you  were 
married." 

She  smiled,  but  begged  him  to  be  quiet. 

"You  have  had  a  horrid  dream,"  she  said; 
"I  had  to  wake  you  up." 

He  told  her  that  he  liked  being  waked  in 
that  way  and  held  her  hand  with  the  grip  of 
one  who  never  meant  to  let  it  go  again. _ 

"Say,  Nance,"  said  he,  "I  dreamed"  that 
you  had  married  Helferich — but  that  could 
not  be,  could  it?  We  killed  him  in  the 
trench  over  yonder;  I  saw  him  dead  myself." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"He  was  in  America  three  weeks  ago," 
she  said.  "  I  have  had  a  letter  to  say  so.  But 
I  know  that  his  son  is  fighting  here." 

Tony  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  at  that. 

"His  son,  good  God!  He  had  a  son 
fighting?" 

She  repeated  the  words.  Helferich  had 
told  her  so  himself. 

Tony  turned  half  over  and  sighed. 

"It's  a  rum  world,"  he  said,  "but  justice 
is  still  knocking  about  sonaewhere.  Don't  let 
go  my  hand,  Nance,  I  guess  I  want  to 
think.''  ' 


Page  64 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


By  MacMichati 
Officer:  "Surely  you  are  the  man  I  pulled  up  this  morning  for  being  improperly  dressed — and 
now  you  fail  to  salute." 

Recruit :  *'  Yes,  sir — ^but  I  thought  you  might  still  be  cross  with  me." 


A  CINEMA  AT  THE  FRONT 

By   MAJOR  CHARLES   G.   D.    ROBERTS 


TH  E  long,  deep-shadowed  hall  was  packed 
with  dim  forms,  their  glimmering  faces 
all  upturned  toward  the  pictures  on  the 
lighted  screen.  It  was  an  intent  audience, 
silent  except  for  snatches  of  muttered  com- 
ment, an  occasional  shuffle  of  heavy  boots,  and 
the  creaking  of  equipment.  Here  and  there, 
spotting  he  gloom  vividly  for  a  moment,  a 
resolute  face  would  be  lit  up  in  the  fleeting 
flare  of  a  match.  The  air  was  thick  with  the 
smell  of  cigarette  smoke  and  wet  leather. 


The  I  cinema-hall  was  in  a  side  street  of 
shell-shattered  Albert.  Outside,  under  the 
glassy,  blue-white  flooding  of  the  November 
moon,  the  great  falling  statue  of  the  Virgin 
and  Child,  arrested  midway  in  its  dizzy 
plunge  from  the  top  of  the  Cathedral  tower, 
looked  down  upon  the  jumble  of  broken  roofs 
and  windowless  walls,  and  on  the  ceaseless 
procession  of  ambulances,  lorries,  limbers, 
and  tramping  battalions  which  thronged  the 
Bapaume  road. 


.i\-ii;A    IN    KHAKI 


Page  86 


'ht-  lower  sky  all  round  to  east  and 
lonli  was  continually  stabbed  with  jets  of 
flarne,  so  savagely  intense  that  even  the  un- 
rlouded  moonlight  could  not  drown  them. 
The  windless  air  quivered  and  shrank  under 
rhe  shocks  of  our  nearer  guns — the  6-inch, 
;he  9.2's  and  the  ii-inch  high-nosing 
riants.  It  wailed  or  whined  or  whimpered  to 
the  soaring  passage  of  the 

shells,    as    they    streamed 

outwards  toward  the  Ger- 
man lines.  Every  now 
and  then  the  fierce  wailing 
in  the  sky,  instead  of  dying 
off  into  the  distance,  drew 
nearer,  rose  into  a  venom- 
ous scream,  and  ended 
with  a  nerve-shattering 
crash  which  jarred  Albert 
to  her  deep  cellars ;  for  the 
ruined  town,  being 
crowded  with  troops,  was 
the  object  of  ceaseless  at- 
tention from  the  German 
batteries  along  the  yet  un- 
conquered  heights  of  the 
Ancre.  In  the  pauses  of 
the  bombardment  would 
be  heard,  now  and  again, 
the  waspish  drone  of  an 
aeroplane  questing  and 
quartering  the  sky  far 
overhead. 

But  to  all  these  outer 
sounds  and  befallings  the 
packed  spectators  in  the 
cinema  -  hall  gave  not  a 
thought.  They  were  en- 
grossed in  the  moving  pic- 
tures which  passed  before 
them  on  the  screen.  And 
what  were  the  pictures  that 
could  so  rivet  their  atten- 
tion while  swift  death 
roared  and  screamed  all 
about  them?  They  were 
scenes  of  an  earlier  por- 
tion of  the  tremendous 
conflict  going  on  even 
now  just  beyond  their 
walls.    For  the  film  was  the 


great    battle-film    of    the    fighting    on    the 
Somme. 

It  was  all  theirs.  The  naked  rises*  swept 
with  shell-bursts,  the  fire-scourged  roads  lead- 
ing straight  into  the  hell  of  the  locked 
struggle,  the  cratered  and  tortured  rolling 
fields,  the  ghastly  pale  patches  of  wreckage 
which  had  been  La  Boiselle,  Ovillers,  Con- 


THE    SOLDIER'S   BULLY-BEEF 
The  Apparition :  "  'Alas,  my  poor  brother,'  indeed 


By  G.  E.  Studdy 

NIGHTMARE 

I'll  learn  'em  I  " 


Page  66 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


talmaison,  the  half-obliterated  white  lines  of 
trenches  for  the  capture  of  which  the  best 
blood  of  the  Empire  had  been  so  lavishly  and 
so  splendidly  outpoured — ^all  this  they  knew 
to  every  hallowed  acre  of  it.  They  had 
marched  over  it,  endured  over  it,  many  of 
them  fought  over  it. 

But  now,  here  in  the  shadowed  hall,  they 
were  getting  really  acquainted  with  the  mag- 
nificence of  their  own  achievement.  They 
were  learning  to  apprehend  the  Battle  of  the 
Somme.  As  he  who  is  in  the  forest  cannot 
see  the  forest  for  the  trees,  he  who  is  in  the 


thickest  of  the  fight  sees  least  of  it  as  a  whole. 
His  senses  are  absorbed  in  the  immediate  de- 
tails which  mean  life  or  death  to  him,  and 
what  his  fellows  in  the  next  ditch  are  doing 
he  must  take  on  faith.  Here,  however,  before 
the  flickering  film,  he  feels  himself  on  a  watch- 
tower  high  above  the  gasping  fury  of  the 
battle.  He  sees  now  what  he  looked  like—  and 
perhaps  he  remembers  what  he  felt  like — as 
he  plunged  forward  with  the  attacking  wave, 
and  followed  the  barrage,  and  broke  with  red- 
dening bayonet  into  the  German  trenches.- 
As  the  film  rolls  on  it  grows  more  and  more 
realistic;  for  as  the  pic- 
tured shell-bursts  crowd 
upon  the  screen,  the  spec- 
tators not  only  see  them 
but  hear  them.  The  walls 
of  the  hall  are  shaking 
under  what  seem  to  be 
those  pictured  explosions. 
And  at  any  moment  one 
of  those  great  shells,  in- 
stead of  bursting  on  the 
crest  of  yonder  ridge,  may 
swoop  down  through  the 
roof  above  their  heads, 
and  blow  the  whole  audi- 
ence into  eternity.  It  is 
not  strange,  therefore,  if 
the  breathing  of  the  audi- 
ence grows  deeper  as  the 
show  goes  on,  and  for 
some  the  line  between  pic- 
ture and  reality  becomes 
confused;  for  never  before 
was  pictured  story 
brought  to  such  close 
grips  with  life  and  death 
as  in  this  turn  in  the 
cinema  hall  at  ruined 
Albert  on  the  Somme. 


By  Geo.   S.  Dixon 
Recruit  'on  sentry  duty  for  the  first  time):    "Who  goes  there?" 
Voce:  "OfiBcer  of  the  day." 
Recruit  :  "Then  what  are  ye  doing  out  at  night?" 


KNIGHTHOOD 

By    CANON    SCOTT 

In  honour,   chivalrous; 
In  duty,  valorous; 
In  all  things,  noble ; 
To  the  heart's  core,  clean. 


CANADA    /.V    KHAKI 


Page  67 


ZOO— LOGIC 


By  Pay 

Rocky  Mountain  Explorer:  "Great  Caesar!     I  had  no  idea  there  were  such  creatures 
in  Canada ! " 

The  Creature:   "Well,  I  didn't  draw  this  picture.     You  must  blame  it  on  Poy!" 

4— n 


Fage  68 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


OR  DESTINY  ? 


By  A.   B.  TUCKER 

Author  of  "The  Battle  Glory  of  Canada' 


THE    men    at    the    front    are    becoming 
fatalists.    They  see  a  shell  burst  and  kill 
perhaps  two  out  of  a  little  group  of  half  a 
dozen  and  leave  the  other  four  unhurt — the 
wo  hit  not  being  close  together,  but  one  on 
he  near  side  of  the  group  and  the  other  on 
the  far. 

Frequent  experiences  of  such  wonderful 
escapes  on  the  one  side  and  such  unaccount- 
able bad  luck  on  the  other  have  made  them 
believe  in  destiny.  They  argue,  "If  that  shell 
that  is  coming  towards  us  is  meant  for 
me,  it  will  have  me  anyway,  and  if  it  is 
not  for  me,  I  shan't  get  hit;  so  it's  no  good 
worrying." 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  they 
ceaje  to  take  much  notice  of  bullets  flying 
near  them.  To  their  own  satisfaction  they 
have  solved  the  problem  whether  it  is  chance 
or  luck,  or  what  is  variously  called  destiny, 
the  finger  of  Providence,  or  Fate  that  decides 
what  is  to  be  their  own  particular  lot  in  an 
engagement.  They  do  not  express  their  feel- 
ings quite  in  Swinburnian  language,  but 
when  that  master  of  musical  diction  wrote 
those  beautiful  lines : 

"  Unto  each  man  his  fate. 
Unto  each  as  He  saith, 
In  Whose  fingers  the  weight 
Of  the  world  is  a  breath," 

he  summed  up  the  soldiers'  attitude  to-day. 

In  ordinary  life,  we  are  less  prone  to  believe 
that  our  fate  is  mapped  out  for  us,  and  are 
more  inclined  to  talk  of  good  or  bad  luck. 
But  even  with  us  at  home  there  are  times  when 
the  chain  of  events  in  our  lives  makes  us  think 
whether  it  is  all  just  chance  that  brought  them 
about. 

There  is  immense  satisfaction  when  we 
feel  that  justice  has  at  length  been  done, 
or  a  wrong  righted  after  many  years;  and  it 


is  curious  how  strong  and  how  common  the 
belief  is  that  injustice,  or  wrong  done,  will 
inevitably  be  righted  some  day. 

The  following  story,  which  seems  to  suggest 
this  much-discussed  problem,  is  absolutely 
true  in  all  essentials,  though  if  it  formed  part 
of  a  novelist's  plot,  it  would  be  criticised  as 
being  so  highly  improbable  as  to  demand  too 
much  credulity  from  the  reader.  The  names 
in  the  narrative  are  for  obvious  reasons 
fictitious. 

Some  twenty-four  years  ago,  Tom  Richard- 
son, a  young  fellow  not  much  more  than  a 
lad,  left  a  little  village  in  the  South  of 
England  for  Canada.  He  left  his  home  not 
because  he  wished  to  seek  adventures  or  a 
fortune  in  the  New  World,  but  because  he 
was  sore  and  bitter  with  life  as  he  found  it  in 
his  native  village.    , 

The  'trouble  was  a  girl.  One  of  the 
prettiest  girls  in  the  village  was  Mary  Wells, 
and  though  there  were  several  young  men 
anxious  to  pay  attentions  to  her,  she  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  any  of  them,  for  her 
heart  was  given  to  Tom  Richardson.  He  was 
devoted  to  her,  and  they  looked  forward  to 
being  married  when  he  was  in  a  position  to 
provide  a  home  for  her. 

But — it  is  the  "buts"  in  life  that  change  our 
whole  outlook  and  make  our  futures  very 
different  from  what  we  anticipated — in  this 
case  the  course  of  true  love,  which  is  said 
never  to  run  smoothly,  quickly  ran  among  the 
rocks. 

Mary's  parents  were  ambitious  for  their 
handsome  daughter,  and  Tom's  prospects 
were  not  such  as  to  make  him  in  their  eyes  an 
acceptable  suitor.  Mary  was  forbidden  to 
have  any  more  to  do  with  him ;  and  being 
very  young,  fond  of  her  parents,  and  accus- 
tomed to  obey  them  in  everything,  she  gave 
way  and  said  good-bye  to  Tom.  He,  deeming 
her  compliance  with  her  parents'  wishes  to 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  69 


mean  that  her  love  for  him 
was  not  worthy  of  his 
whole-hearted  love  for  her, 
left  the  village,  angry  and 
bitter  with  the  world  gen- 
erally and  with  a  mean 
opinion  of  women's  con- 
stancy. 

Nothing  was  heard  of  him 
again  in  the  village.  He 
dropped  out  of  people's 
ken  and  was  soon  forgot- 
ten. In  the  meantime  he 
had  taken  kindly  to  life  in 
his  adopted  country,  and, 
being  steady  and  industri- 
ous, he  became  fairly  pros- 
p  e  r  o  u  s.  But  he  never 
married.  No  other  woman 
but  Mary  Wells  had  any 
attraction  for  him,  and  he 
was  regarded  as  a  con- 
firmed bachelor. 

^hen  war  broke  out, 
Tom  Richardson,  like  most 
of  the  old  countrymen  in 
Canada,  enlisted,  though, 
according  to  regulations  in 
his  country,  he  was  over 
military  age.  He  came  to 
this  country  in  due  course, 
and  then  went  with  his  unit 
to  the  front.  While  serv- 
ing there  he,  one  day, 
found  himself  in  the  com- 
pany of  a  man  who  had 
come  from  his  own  native  village.  Of 
course,  he  asked  after  old  friends,  and  by 
and  by  spoke  of  Mary  Wells.  His  new 
companion,  who  seemed  astonished  that  any- 
one who  had  belonged  to  the  village  had  not 
heard  of  her,  then  told  him  the  following 
story  : 

Mary,  many  years  ago,  had  married  a  man 
of  the  parents'  choice,  solely  to  please  them, 
for  she  had  no  love  for  him.  Her  married  life 
was  most  unhappy,  and  when  a  child  was  born 
of  the  marriage,  her  unhappiness  became 
melancholic,  and  in  an  insane  moment  she 
killed  the  baby.  Tried  for  murder  and  found 
to  be  insane,  she  was  committed  to  »  criminal 


By  Thoma%  Henry 

Short-sighted  Old  Dame:  "Aye,  it  do  seem  wunnerful,  Garge,  a.< 
these  men  can  fly  over  us  for  all  the  world  like  birds." 


lunatic  asylum,  where  she  had  been  ever 
since. 

Tom  Richardson,  when  he  heard  of  the 
terrible  fate  of  the  girl  he  had  loved,  and  still 
loved,  at  once  determined  that  when  he  got 
leave,  he  would  go  to  the  asylum  and  ask  to 
be  allowed  to  see  her.  He  had  already  learnt 
from  his  new-found  friend  that  Mary's  hus- 
band had  died  some  years  ago,  and  that  her 
parents  were  dead. 

He  got  leave  a  month  or  so  after  hearing  all 
this  sad  story,  and  made  his  way  at  once  to  the 
asylum,  where  he  was  told  that  for  some  time 
Mary  had  been  regarded  as  perfectly  sane, 
and  that  recently  she  was  to  have  been   re- 


Page  70 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


leased,  but  that  she  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
stay  in  the  asylum,  as  she  had  no  home  to 
which  to  go.  Like  the  caged  bird,  she  had 
grown  so  accustomed  to  captivity  that  she 
had  no  desire  for  liberty.  Richardson  ex- 
plained his  relations  with  Mary,  and  asked  if 
he  might  see  her.  The  doctor  said  that  he  did 
not  think  any  harm  would  come  of  the  meet- 
ing. "You  shall  see  her  quite  alone,"  he  said ; 
"I  do  not  think  that  she  will  have  any  relapse 
through  seeing  you." 

Mary  had  already  been  told  rtiat  there  was 
"someone"  to  see  her,  and  had  been  con- 
ducted to  a  waiting-room,  wondering  who 
that  someone  could  be.  The  door  opened  and 
in  walked  Tom.  Without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion she  flew  into  his  arms.  It  might  have 
been  only  yesterday  that  these  two  parted. 
For  an  hour  they  talked,  and  then  Tom  was 
told  that  it  was  time  to  go.  Before  he  left  he 
promised  Mary  that  he  would  come  back  when 


he  next  got  leave.  After  parting  with  her  he 
saw  the  doctor  again  and  told  him  that  he 
wanted  to  marry  Mary  if  she  might  be  re- 
leased. It  was  then  agreed  that  arrangements 
should  be  made  for  her  release  when  he  next 
came  back  from  the  front. 

So  Tom  went  back  to  the  front  happier  than 
he  had  been  for  years.  Let  us  hope  that  he 
will  get  his  leave  soon  and  that  he  will  be 
spared  to  return  to  his  old  sweetheart.  Surely, 
after  such  a  happy  reunion  after  so  many  years 
of  grief,  nothing  will  happen  to  spoil  the  end 
of  the  story.  The  prospect  of  happiness 
held  out  to  the  poor  woman  who  has  been 
dead  to  the  world  for  years  seems  like  poetic 
justice. 

We  may  each  have  our  own  opinion  as 
to  what  it  was  that  brought  these  two  old 
lovers  together  again,  but  in  Mary's  mind 
there  is  no  doubt  whether  it  was  chance  oi 
destiny. 


S.  R.  D. 


(The  mystic  tetters  sometimes  seen  on  jars  containing  ram  for  soldiers.) 


There  is  a  jar  we  love  to  see, 
Which  bears  the  letters  S.R.D.; 
Of  all  the  rations  in  the  cart, 
It's  dearest  to  the  soldier's  heart. 

When  e'er  you're  dreaming  in  a  trench, 
And  rains  your  weary  limbs  do  drench. 
With  what  wild  glee  you  hail  the  jar 
Which  holds  that  nectar  from  afar. 

Let  the  old  whizz-bangs  shriek  and  roar. 
And  Heine's  H.E.  o'er  us  pour. 
We  reck  them  not,  when  we  can  see 
Those  mystic  letters,  S.R.D. 

Old  Omar  in  his  palmy  days 
Sang  of  his  jug  in  Persian  lays. 


And  he'd  sing  more  if  he  could  see 
The  jar  that's  labell'd  S.R.D. 

So  when  you  sit  in  chairs  of  ease, 
And  drink  your  waters  and  your  teas, 
Don't  you  worry,  or  yet  get  glum 
Because  the  "soldat  "  likes  his  rum. 

He  doesn't  get  a  healthy  swig, 
For,  be  assured,  his  share's  not  big; 
But  even  so  that  little  tot 
To  us  poor  chaps  means  quite  a  lot. 

The  prim  old  maids  may  agitate. 
And  'gainst  rum  sing  a  hymn  of  hate ; 
Let  them  rave  on — for  what  care  we  ? 
We  watch  and  wait  for  S.R.D. 

1.  Gordon  Smith,  O.M.F.C. 


CAXADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  71 


OF   HoeS5.S  . 
TMS. 


Ws/abili-tv  to 
—  WHLL,  —  ^?s/^rl.L■y,• 

^     COK1K)l£5IOM     AT-' 


As    Ha    COULT*    HIT  /^  "TIN   CAH-Th^WN   UP  IN 

im  AIR  .  Six  -riM=S  o«y^oF>)x  ,  B=J=oR3. 

•T     FSLI-    To  TH=.    <;f30UMD  , 
FICUR5.D  'T^^^ 


>Ni-r>tiN   Two 
OF 


fiirr 

7WS-    JOB 


WHF.N  STEVE'S  PARU  JOINED   UP 


By  Tom  C.nlrell 


Page  72 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


THE  UNPOLISHED  BUTTON 


By  MacMiehatl 


ODES  TO  ARMY   FORMS 

TO    MY    INVENTORY    OF    KIT    (A.F.B.253) 


Oh,   let    me    have    a    glimpse    at    you,   my 

Invent'ry  of  Kit, 
My  list  of  necessaries  for  a  guy  that's  done 

his  bit. 
I  haven't  got  no  Bible  left,  I  haven't  got  no 

blacking, 
I  haven't  got  no  braces;  my  brushes,  tooth, 

is  lacking; 
I  haven't  got  no  blinkin'  tin  of  min'ral  jelly 

mixture, 
One  only  of  my  titles  with  its  plate  and  pin's 

a  fixture ; 
My  housewife,  who  has  stuck  to  me  the  whole 

of  this  campaign, 
Is    positively    empty    and   wants    filling    up 

again ; 
And  here  it's  down   in  black  and  white  on 

Form  B  two  five  three, 
I've  almost  got  a  whole  trousseau  a-comin' 

clear  to  me  ! 


Here,  just  a  whisper  in  your  ear,  my  Invent'ry 

of  Kit; 
I'm   a   very   modest   feller,    but   I've   got   to 

mention  it : 
My  flannel  shirt  is  on  the  rocks,  and  I  ain't 

got  a  cotton  ;  • 

As  for   my   socks — well,    I'm   the   gink   that 

Sister  Sue's  forgotten; 
And  I'm  entitled  to  some  trousers — serge — 

one  pair,  of  Khaki, 
And   here  am   I   paradin'   like   a   Caribbean 

darkie. 
And  on  my  Sam,  I  tell  you  straight,  altho' 

I  guess  it's  rude. 
If  the  Guv'ment  don't  help  soon,  I'll  be  posin' 

in  thp  nude; 
Yes — moi  qui  parle — a  hero  of  a  half  a  dozen 

fights. 
With  an  option  on  a  wh61e  layette  if  I  could 

get  my  rights ! 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


I 


Now    get    a    wriggle    on    you,    plsiise,    my 

Invent'ry  of  Kit, 
I   can't   believe  you   have  at   heart   my   real 

benefit ; 
As  long  as  I've. my  bayonet,  my  pull-through, 

and  my  rifle, 
Tho'  I  possess  no  puttees,  it  don't  worry  you 

a  trifle; 
As  long  as  my  equipment's  fixed  with  carriers 

or  pouches, 
You  do  not  give  a  tuppenny  for  my  sartorial 

grouches ; 
As  long  as  of  accoutrements  and  arms  I  have 

my  whack, 
You  don't  care  if  I  have  no  vest,  grey  flannel, 

to  my  back ;    ' 
I  ought  to  be  arrayed  in  all  my  pomp  and 

panoplee. 
Now  the  blinkin'  lilies  of  the  field  have  sure 

got  one  on  me  1 


Page  73 

Driftin'     away     from     common     talk,     my 

Invent'ry  of  Kit, 
I've  got  a  heart   that's  been  condemned,  a 

soul  that  doesn't  fit; 
I've  got  a  line  on  higher  things  that's  lost  its 

true  perspective, 
I've  got  a  sense  of  humour  that  is  cruelly 

non-effective ; 
I've  got  a  brain  that  will  not  wbrk,  a  mind 

that-  never  grapples 
With  facts  (as  once  it  used  to  do)  for  nuts  or 

sour  apples; 
All   of   those   heav'nly   gifts   were   once   my 

private  propertee. 
And    now    I    have    part-worn    them    in    this 

blinkin'  Infantree — 
Before    I    lose    my    self-respect,    oh,    do    be 

sportsmanlike, 
Cover  my  awful   nakedness — please — for  the 

love  of  Mike  1  R.  M.  E. 


TO   A   CLEAN    CONDUCT   SHEET   (A.F.B.122) 


Oh,  testimony  to  three  blameless  years  1 
Unsullied  witness  of  avoided  clink. 

And  abstinence  from  those  belated  beers, 
That  blacken  to  incriminating  ink 

And  mark  the  downward  courses  of  careers  I 

Proof  negative  that  naught  to  me  befel 

In  rumpuses  and  wrongdoings  and  crime ; 
How  thy  blank  lines  of  spurned  temptation 
tell. 
Thy  virgin  columns  of  the  place  and  time 
Where  nothing  happened  when  it  might  have 
well. 

If  I  committed  fault  the  spot's  not  mapped. 
Nor  is  the  date  I  did  it  calendared ; 

No  witnesses  were  present  an  it  happed, 
No  punishment  awarded  an  I  erred. 

The  incident  with  no  "remarks"  is  capped. 

Oh,  resum^  of  righteousness  unwrit. 
Oh,  happy  tale  of  heeded  p's  and  q's; 

Gaze  on  those  unfilled  spaces  and  admit 
The  speechless  proof  how  nobly  did  I  choose 

Strictly  and  soberly  to  do  my  bit. 


Oh,  count  me  not  a  hypocrite  and  smug 

Because  I  have  tiptoed  the  paths  of  sin. 
Nor  turned  when  tempters  gave  my  sleeve  a 

tug; 

Often  less  brave  a  "mention"  'tis  to  win 
Than  pass  the  bottle  and  escape  the  jug. 

Record  of  rectitude !     Her  marriage  lines 
Were  not  more  treasured  by  the  cast-off 
bride, 

Nor  by  the  saint  the  halo  that  defines 
The  spice  of  sanctity  in  which  he  died, 

Than  thee  on  whom  my  untold  virtue  shines. 

The  characters  that  plain  good  cooks  present, 
The  reference  the  sober  butler  brings 

In  answer  to  the  Times  advertisement; 
How  much  more  true  of  honest  virtue  rings 

My  conduct  sheet  of  stain  all  innocent. 

When  it's  in  Orders,  and  my  turn  I  wait 

To  be  paraded  'fore  the  O.  i/c, 
And  halt  at  ease  outside  the  seventh  gate, 
"If  you've  done  little   right,"  they'll  say 
to  me, 
"Pass — you've  done  nothing  wrong  at  any 
rate."  R.  M.  E. 


Page  74 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


HOW    KLONDYKE    BILL   JOINED    UP 

(According  to  the  artists,  and  according  to  fact) 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  75 


'  How'd  that  happen,  chum — shrapnel  ? ' 


By  A.   E.  Horn* 


CHRISTMAS    DAY   ON   VIMY 

RIDGE 


By  F.  A.  McKENZIE. 

The  Famous  Canadian  War  Correspondent 


ON  Christmas  Day,  1914,  the  British  and 
Germans,  after  months  of  fierce  fight- 
ing, fraternised  freely.  The  spirit  of  Christ- 
mas was  100  strong  for  the  spirit  of  war. 
Both  sides  met  together  between  the  lines. 
They  exchanged  drinks,  joined  in  mutual 
choruses,  shook  each  other  by  the  hand  and 
offered  each  other  smokes.  It  was  one  of 
the  most  ironic  and  one  of  the  most  human 
touches  of  this  great  war. 

On  Christmas  Day,  J915,  there  was  very 
little  commingling.  Bitter  memories  acted 
as  a  barrier,  memories  of  murdered  wounded, 
memories  of  tortured  prisoners,  memories  of 
poison  gas.  Strict  orders  had  been  issued 
from  Headquarters  that  there  was  to  be  no 
rapprochement.     According  to  the  accoun"= 


published  immediately  afterwards  this  order 
was  strictly  obeyed.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
here  and  there  men  did  exchange  greetings 
in  half-hearted  manner.  They  sat  openly 
on  the  trenches,  chaffing  one  another.  A 
waiter  from  Montreal  serving  in  a  German 
regiment  shouted  inquiries  after  some  old 
friends.  Grim  jokes  were  hurled  from  side 
to  side  until  the  Company  officers,  uneasy 
lest  treachery  might  be  intended,  ordered  the 
men  down  again. 

.On  Christmas  Day,  1916,  Canadians  and 
Germans  remained  strictly  apart.  The  time 
for  even  half-hearted  Christmas  greeting  had 
gone  by.  Along  most  of  our  line  the  order 
was  issued  that  if  the  Germans  did  nothing, 
we  would  do  nothing;  if  the  German  guns 


Page  76 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


did  not  fire,  we  would  not  fire  either.  Even 
this  regulation,  however,  was  not  universal, 
for,  at  one  point  of  the  line  an  enterprising 
Nova  Scotian  battalion  had  a  raid  in  the 
early  morning,  and  brought  back  a  little 
bunch  of  German  prisoners.  "We  knew  they 
wouldn't  expect  us,  so  we  paid  them  a  sur- 
prise visit,"  my  old  friend  the  Major  in 
charge  told  me.  And  a  very  successful  sur- 
prise visit,  too.  At  another  point  the  Germans 
occupied  themselves  in  the  afternoon  by 
throwing  "rum  jars"  on  our  front  trenches. 
But,  generally  speaking,  actual  fighting 
ceased  from  daylight  to  dusk  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  birth  of  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

The  weather  had  been  abominable,  rain, 
sleet  and  snow.  The  countryside,  far  behind 
the  lines,  was  a  picture  of  dreary  desolation. 
Parsing  through  the  quiet  French  villages  to 
the  rear,  I  came  at  noon  to  a  village  where 
two  battalions  were  resting,  straight  from  the 
trenches.  They  had  had  a  hard  time,  and 
only  two  days  before  they  had  marched  back 
to  the  village  almost  worn  out.  But  two  days 
do  a  lot.  They  had  washed  the  mud  off  their 
faces  and  scraped  some  of  it  off  their  clothes. 
They  had  had  a  good  long  sleep,  and  they 
were  ready  for  all  the  fun  of  the  day. 

Christmas  began  with  church  services. 
Our  Anglican  padre  held  an  early  communion 
service  in  the  foremost  dug-out.  Church 
service  over,  every  man's  mind  turned  to 
Christmas  dinner.  The  officers  had  sent  out 
scouts  for  days  before  to  buy  up  turkeys  and 
all  the  good  things  available.  Many  of  the 
Christmas  parcels  from  home  had  not  arrived. 
The  Santa  Claus  ship  had  gone  aground 
right  in  the  entrance  of  Boulogne  Harbour, 
blocking  the  passage  way.  Most  of  the 
Christmas  letters  and  messages  from  home 
were  not  yet  to  hand. 

The  French  village  in  which  we  were  stay- 
ing was  typical  of  its  kind.  It  consisted 
mainly  of  several  large  farms,  each  con- 
structed on  the  good  old  plan  of  the  midden 
and  the  dung  heap  in  the  courtyard ;  of  ponds 
that  were  virtually  cesspools  just  by,  and 
of  the  farmhouse  and  farm  buildings  built 
around.  These  barns  had  been  taken  over 
by  the  Army.  Their  long  attics  were  turned 
into  dormitories.     They  were  very  dark,   for 


there  were  no  windows  and  the  only  illu- 
mination came  from  faint  candles.  They 
were  very  draughty,  for  the  tiles  were  loosely 
laid,  with  no  under  covering,  so  that  the 
wind  and  the  rain  beat  and  poured  through. 
On  either  side  of  the  roof  were  the  roughly 
made  bunks.  In  the  centre  was  a  long  table. 
Outside,  in  the  passage  way,  the  cooks  stood 
with  their  great  tins  and  monster  baking 
dishes  full  of  cut  up  turkey  and  bacon, 
dishes  of  boiled  corn,  potatoes  and  green- 
stuffs,  apple  sauce  and  gravy. 

The  men  filed  along,  holding  their  tin 
canteens  in  their  hands.  As  they  passed,  the 
canteens  were  heaped  up  with  turkey,  vege- 
tables and  savouries,  all  in  one  great  pile. 
One  wise  man  had  obtained  a  wash-hand 
basin.  He  was  greeted  with  a  roar  of 
laughter,  but  it  enabled  his  food  to  be  well 
spread  out.  It  is  impossible  on  active  service 
to  carry  plates.  An  attempt  had  been  made  to 
secure  paper  plates  for  that  day,  but  it  failed. 
However,  no  one  was  in  a  mood  to  grumble. 
After  a  man  has  had  a  spell  in  the  trenches, 
a  dinner  of  turkey  and  sweet  corn  with  plum 
pudding  to  follow  sounds  so  good  that  he 
cares  nothing  about  the  way  it  is  served. 

Outside  in  the  yard,  another  Company, 
housed  on  the  lower  floors,  was  being  served 
from  its  travelling  kitchen.  Every  face  wore 
a  happy  grin.  "Gee!"  said. one  boy,  "all  I 
want  is  for  Christmas  to  come  twice  a  week." 
A  young  McGill  man  was  opening  with 
hearty  goodwill  a  big  case  that  had  arrived 
from  England  in  time.  It  contained  smokes 
and  other  good  things  for  every  man. 

At  each  point  the  Colonel  tasted  the  food 
in  orthodox  fashion  and  wished  one  and  all 
".'\  Merry  Christmas."  "Men,"  he  said, 
"may  this  be  the  last  Christmas  in  the 
trenches.  May  our  job  be  done  and  well 
done  before  next  Christmas  comes  round, 
and  may  we  share  it  with  our  own  loved  ones 
at  home."  There  was  a  sudden  response,  a 
stir  as  though  a  wave  of  emotion  had  swept 
•over  the  crowd. 

He  railed  on  me  to  say  a  word.  I  have 
spoken  to  many  assemblies  in  many  lands, 
from  vast  mobs  of  striking  Eastern  European 
miners  In  Pennsylvanian  coalfields  to  the  se- 
lect audience  of  a  Royal  Society  in  London. 


Iliirili  r  ill  nifiii   hif   I. II  III.  ('.   II.    Hiiniiiiil.  (l.M.I'.i 


CANADA    /.V    KHAKI 


Page  77 


But  as  I  looked  in  front  of 
me  at  the  cheering  soldiers, 
with  their  worn,  weather- 
beaten  faces,  their  trench- 
stained  garments,  their  air 
of  resolution,  endurance 
and  confidence,  I  felt  that 
this  was  no  moment  for 
oratory.  For  a  few  brief 
seconds  I  told  them  of  the 
messages  the  dear  ones  at 
home  had  sent  through  me 
to  them.  "What  word 
shall  I  send  back?"  I 
asked.  "Shall  I  say  that 
to-day  your  hearts  are  with 
them  and  that  you  are 
dwelling  on  the  memories 
of  the  old  folk,  and  the 
waiting  wife?"  "You  bet 
your  life  I  "  shouted  one 
man  from  the  corner. 
There  was  no  need  for  me 
to  say  more,  and  I  would 
have  found  it  difficult  to 
go  on. 

I  am  tired  of  the  conven- 
tion which  always  repre- 
sents the  soldier  at  the 
front  with  a  grin  on  his 
face.  Of  course,  he  makes 
a  brave  show  of  it;  of 
course,  he  keeps  a  speci- 
ally stiff  upper  lip  when 
visitors  are  by.  Yet  the 
life  of  the  man  in  the 
fighting  lines  is  any- 
thing but  a  time  of  laughter.  It  is  a  life 
where  human  energy  is  taxed  to  the  full.  It 
is  a  life  with  its  hours  of  great  loneliness,  its 
constant  spells  of  almost  incredible  endur- 
ance. That  it  has  its  splendid  compensations 
no  one  would  deny,  the  soldier  least  of  all. 
But  it  would  be  well  if  the  civilian  could 
sometimes  realise  more  its  hardness  and  the 
supreme  test  of  body  and  soul  that  it  involves. 

In  the  village  itself  there  were  notices  up 
about  Christmas  entertainments.  At  2  p.m. 
there  was  to  be  a  Band  Concert;  at  2.45 
there  was  a  show  in  the  Cinema  Hall,  led 
by   Captain    Plunkett   and   a   quartet.     The 


By  A.  Moreland 
Tommy:    "I  think   you'd   better  walk   sideways,  Fritz,  or   youll 
be  too  much  for  my  sense  of  humour" 


Scots — trust  them  for  that — were  not  ne- 
glected, and  Captain  W.  A.  Cameron,  of 
Toronto,  was  going  to  lecture  on  "An  Hour 
wi'  Burns."  The  sun  had  now  come  out.  I 
could  not  stay  to  see  the  afternoon  in  the 
villages,  for  I  was  already  due  in  the 
trenches.  The  communicating  lines  up  to  the 
front  were  very  long  at  this  point.  At  first 
they  were  well  laid  with  bath  mats,  but  as 
one  got  near  the  front,  the  mud  grew  thicker 
and  thicker.  Darkness  was  already  creeping 
in  by  the  time  we  reached  the  Colonel's  dug- 
out. He  was  just  having  tea,  and  he  opened 
as  a  Christmas  treat  a  little  packet  of  short- 


Page  78 


CAi'^ADA    IN    KHAKI 


bread.  You  cannot  get  Christmas  fare  in  the 
front  lines,  whatever  imaginative  chroniclers 
may  say.  He  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  for 
only  a  few  days  before  his  battalion  had  con- 
ducted a  successful  raid  against  the  enemy. 
He  told  me  the  story  aver  again,  how  they 
had  swept  through  the  German  lines,  de- 
stroyed hundreds  of  yards  of  defences  and 
come  back  in  safety.  Leaving  him,  I  went 
on  to  the  outposts. 

The  mud  was  now  almost  impassable. 
"We  had  better  not  go  round  this  way,"  said 
my  guide.  "Three  men  got  stuck  in  here 
yesterday  and  had  to  be  dug  out.  Let's  try 
the  other  way."  We  passed  by  a  detour  out 
into  No  Man's  Land.  We  were  now  wading 
through  mud.  Go  as  quickly  as  one  could, 
it  was  impossible  to  avoid  splashing.  We 
slipped  through  our  own  wires;  we  moved 
along,  crouching  low.  "We  are  just  under 
the  German  wires  now,"  my  friend  said. 
"Move  a  little  to  our  left  and  we  will  come 
to  our  advance  post."  And  there  we  found 
them.  They  were  soaked,  for  they  were 
standing  almost  up  to  their  middles  in  mud. 
The  parts  of  their  clothes  that  were  visible 
were  all  covered  with  mud.  Their  steel  hel- 
mets were  mud  splashed;  their  gas  helmets 
were  wet.  The  clouds  had  gathered  again, 
the  rain  was  beginning  to  come  on.  But 
their  bombs  were  dry  and  their  rifles  ready 
for  business.  They  were  listening  intently. 
At  any  moment  the  enemy  might  be  on  them. 

Again  I  looked  at  them.  I  started  to  offer 
the  conventional  Christmas  greeting,  "A 
merry  Christmas,"  but  the  words  died  away 
on  my  lips.  It  was  quite  dark  by  the  time 
we  left  the  front  lines,  and  the  journey  back 
was  by  no  means  easy.  Horses  were  to  have 
been  waiting  for  us  when  we  got  out  of  the 
communicating  trenches,  but,  by  some  mis- 
understanding, they  had  not  arrived.  My 
companion  made  his  way  to  a  field  telephone 
station  and  I  waited  outside.  It  was  a 
strange  Christmas  evening.  A  bitterly  cold 
wind  was  blowing.  There  was  beating  rain, 
hardening  to  sleet.  All  along  an  immense 
arc.  away  behind  to  the  left,  away  behind  to 
tht  richt,  away  in  front,  great  flares  were 
consiJinily  showing.  These  were  the  flares 
sent  up  on  the  enemy  from,  for  the  Germans 


were  on  three  sides  of  wliere  we  now  stood. 
This  very  road  could  be,  aad  was  at  times, 
swept  by  their  guns  from  behind.  From  the 
distance  there  came  the  occasional  sound  of 
an  exploding  shell.  Apart  from  that,  the 
countryside  seemed  wrapped  in  the  stillness 
of  death. 

My  companion  came  out  and  we  walked 
on.  The  horses  soon  met  us,  and  thea  came 
a  sharp  ride  through  a  heavy  hailstorm  to 
the  officers'  mess  of  a  friendly  battalion.  We 
were  much  later  than  was  expected.  Christ- 
mas dinner  was  almost  over,  but  our  shares 
had  been  saved  and  kept  hot.  "Take  those 
wet  things  off,"  said  the  Colonel,  "and  get 
warm.  You  have  nothing  to  change?  Well, 
come  down  in  your  pyjamas  if  you  like,  so 
long  as  you  come."  But  the  Major  lent  me 
a  tunic,  sorrteone  lent  me  something  else,  and 
very  soon  I  was  sitting  at  the  table.  Every- 
one was  in  high  spirits.  The  Brigade  had 
done  well  in  the  fight  during  the  last  month. 
It  was  to  do  better  still  in  the  future.  Big 
plans  were  ahead  and  victory  was  before  us. 
There  were  the  old  toasts  to  be  drunk,  the 
old  songs  to  be  sung.  And  then  we  gathered 
our  chairs  around  the  fire  and  exchanged 
experiences  of  other  days  and  other  climes. 
But  gazing  in  the  firelight  there  came  again 
before  my  mind  the  vision  of  the  men  I  had 
been  with  a  few  hours  before,  standing  even 
then  in  the  sea  of  mud  in  No  Man's  Land, 
soaked,  worn,  half  frozen — and  yet  ready. 


If  the  Kaiser  were  Kinii  ! 


CANADA  fX  KIIAKl 


Page  79 


r 


Hi    !■  nsfathcr 

'Their  Christmas  don't  seem  to  fall  on  the  same  day  as  ours,   does  it,   Bert?" 


Page  80 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


THE  RULING  PASSION 


By  A.  Mor eland 


'Say  it  again,  George  dear;  the  guns  are  making  such  a  noise  that  I  didn't  hear 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  81 


"  Hello,  Alf !  I  thought  you  were  right  up  the  line.' 
"  No,  they  sent  me  down  here  for  a  rest." 


CANADA'S   THREE  YEARS 

OF  WAR 

By   MAJOR   F.   DAVY 


(CANADIANS  cannot  look  back  over  the 
^  past  three  years  of  world  history  without 
much  fullness  of  heart  and  great  depth  of 
thought  and  feeling.  None  who  have  taken 
an  active  part  in  the  great  struggle  can  review 
the  war  without  a  multitude  of  reminiscences 
—some  picturesque,  some  gay  and  bright, 
many  fraught  with  sadness,  but  ail  interest- 
ing and  all  tempered  with  the  gratification  that 
Canada  in  the  freshness  of  her  national  youth 
has  taken  a  high-souled  part  in  the  war.  In 
the  valour  of  her  fighting  men  and  the 
national  sincerity  of  her  people  Canada  stands 
always  in  the  front  rank. 


Of  those  who  still  remain  of  the  first  thirty- 
three  thousand — Canada's  counterpart  of 
Britain's  original  E.xpeditonary  Force — none 
will  forget  that  majestic  journey  of  the  Cana- 
dian Expeditionary  Force  fleet  across  the 
Atlantic.  Not  many  such  transport  fleet  for- 
mations have  been  seen  during  the  war,  and 
none  such  are  likely  to  be  seen  again  as  long 
as  the  war  lasts.  The  activities  of  those  busy 
little  cruisers  and  the  great  stretch  of  the 
three  long  lines  of  ships,  the  large  expanse  of 
ocean  covered,  and  the  lights  and  shades  of 
the  glorious  weather  will  never  fade  from  the 
memories  of  those  who  witnessed  them. 


Page  82 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Salisbury  Plain  came  next,  and  it  was 
almost  as  severe  a  trial  as  war  itself.  Cana- 
dians well  earned  the  soubriquet  "Mudlarks," 
and  incidentally  fought  colds,  influenza,  sore 
throat,  cerebro-spinal  meningitis,  and  scores 
of  other  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to.  But  after 
that  nightmare  the  mud  of  Flanders  carried 
no  threatening  terrors  for  Canadians.  As  far 
as  mud  was  concerned,  they  had  experienced 
the  superlative.  Nothing  in  future  could  be 
worse.  ' 

The  first  trenches  entered  by  the  Canadians 
were  in  the  locality  of  Armenti^res  and 
Ploegsteert.  There  they  were  distributed 
among  some  of  the  original  British  Expedi- 
tionary Force  units  which  were  holding  the 
line  at  that  point.  They  chatted  under  the 
silent  stars  with  men  whose  units  had  fought 
brigades,  whose  brigades  had  fought  divi- 
sions, and  whose  divisions  had  fought  armies; 
and  as  they  chatted  they  absorbed  some  of 
the  spirit  of  those  heroic  veterans  of  the 
darker  days  in  the  campaign  in  1914. 

Strange  old  days  of  war  they  seem  now,  ^ 
those  days  when  no  communication  trenches 
existed,  and  reliefs  and  rations  went  in  over- 
land under  cover  of  the  darkness.  Pill-boxes 
and  tunnelling  companies  were  then  unknown, 
and  in  most  cases  a  single  ditch  formed  what 
was  called  the  front-line  trench.  The  line  of 
guns  then  was  thin  indeed.  To  some  extent, 
perhaps,  archaic  drill-book  ideas  determined 
their  distribution,  but  even  when  more  had 
been  asked  for  they  were  not  forthcoming, 
for  they  had  not  been  made. 

Next,  the  Canadian  Division — at  that  time 
a  mobile  force  sometimes  belonging  to  one 
Army,  sometimes  to  another — moved  to  the 
vicinity  of  Fleurbaix,  Bac  St.  Maur  and 
Sailly-sur-la-Lys,  and  some  time  in  March, 
1915,  the  little  gatherings  in  divisional  and 
brigade  messes  drank  a  toast  to  "The  Day" — 
the  day  Canadians  first  held  a  bit  of  the  line 
all  on  their  own.  On  that  day  the  New  World 
rejoined  the  Old,  and  henceforth  Canadians 
were  to  be  for  ever  linked  in  the  chain  of 
European  history. 

Not  long  afterwards  the  Canadian  Division 
supported  the  left  flank  in  the  attack  on  Neuve 
Chapelle,  the  fir^t  big  concentration  of  artil- 
lery   in    the    war,    a   concentration    so    well 


planned  and  executed  that  it  blew  the  enemy's 
front  line  trench  out  of  existence,  demoralised 
his  line  at  that  point,  and  resulted  in  the 
capture  of  a  large  number  of  prisoners  and 
material.  It  was  in  that  battle  that  Britain 
first  used  her  newly  designed  15-inch 
howitzers. 

Then  came  a  short  period  of  rest,  and  the 
Canadian  Division  was  moved  to  Ypres, 
where  in  the  well-remembered  second  battle 
of  that  ill-fated  place  it  earned  undying  fame. 
Then  it  moved  to  Givenchy  and  FestuBert, 
in  the  vicinity  of  Bethune,  then  back  to 
Ploegsteert  and  Neuve  Eglise.  Meanwhile 
the  Second  Division  arrived,  and  the  Cana- 
dian Corps  came  into  existence.  For  a  long  . 
time  the  two  divisions  valiantly  held  the  line 
in  the  Ypres  sector  and  portions  to  the  south, 
such  as  Neuve  Eglise  and  Ploegsteert  Wood. 
The  Third  Division  arrived  a  few  months 
after  the  Second,  and  troops  of  each  of  the 
three  divisions  had  their  share  of  the  fighting 
in  front  of  Kemmel,  at  St.  Eloi,  at  Hooge, 
at  Sanctuary  Wood  and  other  points  in  the 
fatal  salient.  After  its  long  service  in  Flan- 
ders it  was  with  great  joy  that  all  ranks  of 
the  Canadian  Corps  in  the  late  summer  of 
1916  received  orders  to  proceed  to  the  Somme.' 
Just  as -the  Corps  was  leaving  Ypres  the 
Fourth  Canadian  Division  arrived  and  took 
over  a  portion  of  the  line.  It  rejoined  the 
Corps  later  when  it  took  over  the  Vimy 
sectoi". 

The  work  of  the  Canadians  on  the  Somme 
wrote  mor^  glorious  pagep  of  history  for  them, 
and  culminated  in  the  capture  of  Courcelette 
(when  tanks  were  first  used)  and  in  the  heroic 
defence  of  the  territory  beyond  it.  Moving 
with  great  facility,  the  British  Divisions  went 
in  and  out  of  the  Somme  valley;  and  the 
Canadian  Corps'  next  duty  was  in  the  Loos 
and  Vimy  sectors,  where,  after,  nine  months' 
study  of  the  positions,  the  Canadians,  with 
the  technical  exactness  of  veterans  and  with 
unfailing  valour,  captured  the  ridge  that  for 
so  long  had  dominated  the  British  positions 
in  the  coalfields  of  France.  Then  followed 
persistent  and  heroic  work  about  Lens,  a 
position  of  tremendous  technical  difficulties, 
and  in  October,  1917,  the  Canadians  found 
themselves  again  on  the  ground  of  their  early 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  83 


sacrifices,  the  salient  of  Ypres,  where  they 
again  distinguished  themselves  on  the  heights 
of  Passchendaele. 

Ypres,  Givenchy,  Festubert,  St.  Eloi,  Sanc- 
tuary Wood,  Hooge,  Courcelette,  Vimy, 
Lens,  Passchendaele — what  prouder  record 
could  a  military  force  desire? 

As  an  American  paper  said:  "It  is  an 
epic  which  Homer  might  have  been  proud  to 
tell." 

The  Canadian  Corps,  through  its  magni- 
ficent  service,  has  made  it  a  proud  and  hon- 
ourable thing  to  be  called  a  Canadian. 

Canadians  have  gone  forth  to  the  war  with 
fightheartedness  and   gaiety.     In   their  con- 


versation and  in  their  little  trench  journals 
they  have  carried  into  the  battle  line  the  terms 
of  the  Canadian  mining  camps,  Canadian 
lumber  woods,  Canadian  prairies,  and  the 
picturesque  slang  of  city  streets,  of  lacrosse 
fields,  hockey  rinks  and  baseball  grounds. 
But  in"  England,  in  France,  or  at  home  they 
have  never  let  their  gaiety  of  heart  turn  them 
aside  from  a  serious  view  of  the  war,  its  re- 
sponsibilities or  its  dangers,  and  Canada's 
recently  accomplished  Union  Government  and 
adoption  of  conscription  bear  incontestable 
pjoof  of  her  determination  to  stay  in  the 
game  to  the  finish  and  to  let  her  full  weight 
be  felt  to  the  end. 


By  Thomas  Htnrf 


IRONY! 
A  pathetic  sketch  frooi  life 


Page  84 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


A    FIGHT   WITH    A 
SUBMARINE 

Tale  of  a   Newfoundland   Skipper 
By  WILLIAM    HOPE   HODGSON 

Author  of  "  The  House  on  the  Borderland,"  "  The  Ghost  Pirates,"  etc. 


YOU  don't  believe  in  miracles,  don't  you ? 
Well,  I  do,  and  I'll  tell  you  ,hy,  if 
you  care  to  listen.  A  miracle  happened  to 
me  this  last  October,  out  in  the  North  Sea. 
Oh,  I'm  not  telling  you  whereabout,  nor 
where  we  were  bound  for;  but  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  we  got  the  shock  of  our  lives  when 
a  darned  brute  of  a  German  submarine  came 
alongside  of  us,  shoved  up  a  quick-firer  out 
of  a  sort  of  hatch  foreside  of  the  conning- 
tower,  and  batted  a  shell  bang  across  our 
bows. 

Not  being  either  a  hero  or  a  man-of-war, 
but  just  an  average  aggregate  of  flesh  and 
blood  and  bones  born  and  bred  in  the  ways 
of  common  sense  in  the  port  of  St.  John's, 
Newfoundland,  I  rang  the  telegraph  to  stop, 
pretty  smart;  and  when  our  way  was  off  us, 
she  slid  alongside  near  enough  to  talk,  and 
the  officer  in  command,  a  snorty  sort  of 
person,  sung  out  to  me  to  lower  our  dinghy, 
with  a  couple  of  men,  and  pull  across  to  her, 

"  Do  you  want  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Nol"  he  said  in  English  good  enough  to 
go  down  anywhere.  "Stay  where  you  are, 
Cap'n,  and  keep  order.  If  anyone  starts  any 
funny  business,  just  understand  I'll  sink  you 
before  you  can  say  your  prayers.  Be  smart 
with  that  boat,  I  want  it !  " 

Well,  of  course,  I  sent  the  boat,  and  she 
came  back  in  about  ten  minutes  with  three 
thumping,  greasy,  great  Germans,  and  a  cute 
little  dumpling  of  an  officer,  partly  gold  lace, 
and  the  rest  bad  manners  and  thirst. 

First  thing  he  did  was  to  go  for  the  mani- 
fest, and  the  second  was  a  bottle  of  "Black 
and  White."    The  third  thing  was  to  start  in 


Copyright  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


on  my  own  special  ,brand  of  cigars,  and  the 
fourth  was  to  tell  me  to  keep  out  of  my  own 
cabm!  Suffering  Jehoshaphat !  But  the  little 
brute  was  nearer  Kingdom  Come  that  same 
moment  than  ever  he'll  guess,  till  he  gets 
there !  They  say  there's  something  in  the 
blood  of  Newfoundlanders  that  makes  it  boil 
at  the  thought  of  the  most  tepid  insult.  Arid 
this  wasn't  an  affront  of  the  brand  marked 
"extra  mild." 

However,  I  kept  the  stopper  on,  and  shoved 
my  gear  into  the  first  mate's  room,  and  he 
went  into  the  second's  and  pushed  poor  old 
Welby  into  the  bottom  bunk.  I  felt  sorry 
for  Welby,  but  I  guess  we  all  had  our 
troubles ! 

They  were  busy  all  day — the  German 
thieves,  I  mean — carting  stuff  across  in  the 
boat.  They  took  charge  entirely,  and  I  was 
told  if  I  showed  on  deck  they'd  shove  day- 
light through  me.  The  same  with  the  two 
mates.  And  I  understood  from  the  steward, 
who  was  allowed  to  go  along  the  decks  to 
the  galley,  that  the  men  had  been  told  to  keep 
in  the  fo'c'sle. 

I  couldn't  quite  twig  what  the  whole  game 
was.  It  was  something  more  than  stocking 
their  larder  and  filling  up  with  oil  from  the 
engineers'  store-room.  They  kept  us  going 
at  about  quarter  speed,  I  judge,  and  from  the 
tell-tale  in  the  saloon  I  could  see  they'd 
altered  the  course  a  couple  of  points  more  to 
the  norrard.  There  was  something  ugly  in 
view,  and  I'd  have  given  a  whole  lot  to  shove 
a  spoke  in  their  wh^l  and  mess  up  their  little 
plans. 

Well,  after  thinking  it  over  I  began  to  get 
the  beginnings  of  a  plan  in  the  back  of  my 
mind    that    would    start    something    on    the 


r.lV  t/>,l  IX  K II Ah' I 


rape  85 


/;v  (_  ii.i.-.  fears 


"It  came  for  us.     Then  'cr-rash'  again,  and  the  whole  top  of  the  engine-room  skylight  seemed  to  fly 

up  in  a  shower  of  glass  splinters" 

"A  Fight  with  a  Submarine" 


I 


Page  86 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


CANADIAN  FACES   ONLY   KNOW  THE  SMILE  OF  VICTORY 


There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  gloomy  Canadian  soldier.      These  snapshots,  taken  in  the  front 

line,   should  convert  the  worst  pessimist 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


CANADA    lA'    KHAKI 


Fage  87 


enemy,  and  I  went  to  call  the  mate  to  talk 
things  over  with  me. 

"Come  into  my  room,  Mister  Belston,"  I 
said.  "I've  been  thinking  this  confounded 
business  over,  and  I've  got  an  idea." 

The  mate  climbed  out  of  the  top  bunk, 
and  the  second  mate,  Mister  Welby,  shoved 
his  head  out  of  the  bottom  one. 

"Not  you,  Mister  Welby,"  I  told  him.  "If 
we  have  a  crowd  in  my  room  that  fat  German 
hog  '11  get  smelling  seven  kinds  of  rats,  and 
that  won't  do.  The  mate  will  tell  you  what 
I've  got  to  say  when  he  comes  back." 

I  went  back  to  my  room,  and  the  mate 
followed  me  in  his  shirt  and  trousers. 

And  then,  you  know,  I'd  no  more  got  the 
business  opened  up  to  Mister  Belston  when 
the  steward  knocked  gently  on  the  door  and 
shoved  his  head  in. 

"Sir,  they're  talking  German.  The  sub- 
marine's right  alongside,  an'  him " — he 
jerked  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  to  mean 
the  officer  who  had  been  put  in  charge  of  my 
ship — "he's  gassing  back.  I  been  listening 
through  the  pantry  port-hole,  only  I  don't 
know  no  German.  You  do,  don't  you,  sir? 
It's  dark    in   there,   an'    maybe   you'd   hear 

K-^mething  as  would  be  useful " 

Good  man,  steward,"  I  said,  interrupting 
him.  "Get  along  and  keep  cave  for  me. 
Mister  Belston,  you  stay  here,  quiet.  I'll  be 
back  in  a  minute." 

I  went  across  to  the  pantry,  which  was  dark, 
and  told  the  steward  to  get  out  and  keep 
watch  in  the  hood  companionway,  and  let  me 
know  the  moment  he  saw  anyone  coming 
along  to  come  below.  Then  I  shut  myself 
into  the  pantry  so  that  the  light  from  the 
saloon  would  not  show  me  through  the  port. 
After  that  I  got  close  up  to  the  port-hole,  and 
started  to  listen  for  all  I  was  worth. 

The  submarine  was  lying  within  two 
fathoms  of  our  side,  and  the  conning-tower 
was  almost  level  with  my  face.  The  night 
was  absolutely  still  and  calm,  and  I  could 
hear  every  word.  What  was  more  to  the 
point,  I'd  picked  up  enough  German  in  my 
schooling  days  in  St.  John's  to  be  able  to 
understand  all  that  was  said;  and  what  they 
were  saying  was  just  plain  life  and  death  to 
every  man  aboard,  and  to  others  as  well, 
a— II 


Of  all  the  cold-blooded  brutes  that  ever 
sailed  God's  seas,  they  were  the — well,  judge 
for  yourself,  then  you'll  realise  just  how  much 
chance  any  of  us  had  got  of  being  alive  the 
following  night,  unless  I  could  start  in  and 
work  a  small  miracle. 

« 

The  officer  in  the  mouth  of  the  conning- 
tower  did  the  bulk  of  the  talking.  He  was 
the  boss.  What  he  said  I  can  put  briefly. 
Here's  the  point.  They  were  planning  to 
use  the  old  Narcissus  as  a  stalking-horse. 
They'd  got  inside  information  from  some 
darned  traitor  who  traded  into  Hartlepool, 
so  it  seemed,  and  was  the  mate  of  a  small 
coaling  steamer  in  the  Dutch  trade.  He  gets 
hold  of  information  from  a  German  bum 
"agency"  ashore,  and  peddles  it  round  to. 
those  beggars  on  the  trip  to  Holland.  My 
oath !  I  swore  if  ever  I  came  out  alive 
there'd  be  a  new  mate  to  that  steamer,  and 
he'd  make  a  hole  in  the  sea  just  big  enough 
to  hold  him  through  Eternity  ! 

They'd  got  the  news  from  this  chap  that 
a  Battle  Squadron  was  going  North,  and  they 
were  aiming  to  take  my  ship  right  across  their 
track  and  lie  hid  under  our  lee  until  the 
squadron  was  quite  close  up  to  us.  Then 
they  were  going  to  slip  out  and  bust  off  all 
the  torpedoes  they'd  got  into  the  middle  of  the 
fleet;  and  they  reckoned  they  were  absolutely 
certain  to  get  at  least  a  couple  of  our  Dread- 
noughts. They  simply  gloated  about  it,  until 
I  was  ready  to  let  loose  with  my  automatic 
and  make  one  less,  at  any  rate,  of  that  little 
lot.      And   then   came   the   final   thing — the 

limit The  it  of  German  milk  of  human 

kindness  and  decency  ! 

Listen !  As  soon  as  the  English  Battle 
Fleet  was  sighted,  we  were  to  be  shot,  so  as 
to  ensure  that  there  would  be  no  danger  of 
our  giving  any  sort  of  warning  signal  at  the 
crucial  moment.  Wasn't  that  just  German  I 
Efficiency  gone  mad  !  And,  as  all  extremes 
are  bound  to  do,  defeating  its  own  ends;  for 
that  last  detail,  when  I  told  it  to  the  mates, 
made  them  ready  to  go  right  slam  down  into 
hell  and  pluck  the  Kaiser  himself  by  the 
moustache  out  of  the  biggest  pot  of  brim- 
stone there.  I  guess  when  men  know  they've 
got  to  die  they  ain't  exactly  particular  what 
risks  they  run  to  get  a  chance  of  living  and 


Page  88 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


American :    "  A  darned  good  suit,  but  not  gas-tight. 


By  K.  H.  Broc^ 


getting  even.  That  may  be  Irish ;  but,  by  the 
Lord,  it's  like  a  lot  of  Irishisms  I've  heard 
from  Paddys  toiling  in  the  mists  on  the  Great 
Newfoundland  Banks;  it's  plain  sense! 

Of  course,  all  this  fresh  news  altered  my 
half-cooked  plans,  and  I  just  loaded  the  mate 
up  with  all  I'd  learnt,  and  sent  him  back  into 
his  room  to  prime  the  second  mate,  and  make 
him  as  ready  for  murder  and  sudden  death 
as  the  two  of  us  were  already  1 

Well,  we  held  a  War  Council  later  and 
settled  something  that  meant  quick  death  or 
sudden  delivery  for  the  whole  lot  of  us. 

First  of  all  I  told  the  steward  to  keep  on 
the  watch,  and  to  start  coughing  the  moment 
he  heard  anyone  coming.  Then  I  went  over 
the  whole  plan  again,  and  told  the  mates 
exactly  what  to  do. 

They  were  to  lash  me  up  in  my  bunk  and 
gag  me.  As  soon  as  I  heard  the  other 
officer  come  below  with  the  man  who  seemed 
always  to  attend  him   wherever  he   went,    I 


would  groan  in  such  a  way  as  to  call  their 
attention.  They'd  come  to  see  what  was  the 
matter,  and  the  two  mates  who  would  be 
waiting  were  to  bash  them  on  the  head  with 
a  couple  of  bootjacks  (excellent  "bashers" 
are  bootjacks  too !)  and  tie  them  up.  The 
bashing  was  not  meant  to  break  anything, 
but  just  to  daze  them  a  bit  and  make  them 
easy  to  handle. 

Then  they  would  haul  the  dinghy  alongside, 
shove  some  grub  and  water  mto  her,  and 
take  the  German  officer  and  one  or  two  of  his 
men  and  "get." 

"You  see,"  I  finished  up,  "the  submarine 
will  be  bound  to  go  searching  for  you  as  soon 
as  she  finds  you're  gone;  otherwise,  if  you 
get  ashoie  with  your  men,  or  reach  a  patrol, 
it'll  be  all  U.P.  with  her  little  plan  to  use  us 
to  stalk  our  ships.  And  while  she's  gone,  why 
I  guess  we'll  coax  our  old  engines  to  take  us 
away  out  of  this  before  she  gets  back.  And 
she'll   never  sink   us   before   going,    because 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  89 


she'll  look  to  catch  you  and  be  back  in  three 
or  four  hours,  and  if  we're  sunk,  well,  we'd 
be  no  use  as  a  stalking-horse — eh?" 

The  whole  thing  worked  excellently  next 
day.  I  heard  the  officer  and  his  companion 
(a  sort  of  senior  seaman,  I  fancy,  who  was 
apparently  dry-nursing  him  1)  come  down 
into  the  saloon.  Then  I  groaned,  and  I  heard 
them  stand  a  moment  to  listen.  I  groaned 
again,  and  they  came  to  my  cabin  door  which 
was  opened  and  looked  in  over  each  other's 
shoulder,  as  you  might  say. 

"Mein  Gott  1 "  said  the  officer. 

"Mein  Gott!  "  said  the  man.  Then  I  saw 
my  two  mates  behind  them,  and  the  two  boot- 
jacks got  in  a  useful  thump  apiece  on  their 
thick  German  heads. 

Exactly  ten  minutes  later  the  two  of  them 
were  lashed  up  solidly  and  gagged,  and  laid 
on  the  floor  of  my  cabin  to  groan  in  unison  • 
with  me.     We  all  groaned. 

My  two  mates  and  the  steward  went  on 
deck  in  search  for  the  two  other  men.  One 
was  at  the  wheel,  and  the  other  was  sleeping 
in  my  chart'-house.  Both  got  bashed,  and 
lashed  up  and  gagged.  Then  the  second 
mate  took  the  wheel,  while  the  mate  went 
forrard  and  routed  out  a  man  to  steer,  whilst 
he  and  the  second  mate  got  busy  on  other 
things. 

The  dinghy  was  towing  astern.  They  hauled 
her  up  quietly  and  shoved  Armours'  tinned 
beef,  water,  whisky,  hard  biscuit,  Dutch 
cheese  and  other  etceteras  into  her.  Then 
they  came  below  and  carried  the  German 
officer  on  deck  and  lowered  him  quietly  into 
the  dinghy.  They  collared  also  the  two  Ger- 
man sailormen  and  lowered  them  on  top  of 
their  officer. 

Then  they  came  down  and  told  me 
that  they  were  going,  and  just  how  many 
sorts  of  a  fool  I  had  been  to  refuse  to  come 
with  them  and  to  threaten  to  prevent  them 
from  leaving  the  ship.  They  said  they  would 
steer  west-sou '-west,  which  should  take  them 
into  the  Firth,  and  there  hand  their  prisoners 
over  and  start  a  warship  off  to  us.  After 
that  they  elevated  thumbs  of  insolence  to  their 
separate  noses  and  therewith  departed,  leav- 
ing the  German  leading  seaman  on  the  floor 
of  the  cabin  to  keep  me  company. 


Seven  hours  and  a  half  later  the  people  in 
the  submarine  came  aboard.  They  must  have 
smelled  a  rat.  Perhaps  they  hailed  us  and 
got  no  answer;  and  then,  when  they  sang 
out  for  the  dinghy,  well,  there  was  no  dinghy. 
Result,  I  guess  they  came  right  in  alongside 
of  us,  and  shoved  half  a  dozen  men  aboard 
with  rifles. 

When  they  found  the  German  leading 
seaman  and  me  they  cut  us  both  loose,  and 
then  started  to  rough-house  me ;  but  the  Ger- 
man who  had  been  lying  on  my  cabin  floor 
explained  all  he  knew,  and  they  had  no  excuse 
to  keep  on  taking  it  out  of  me.  All  the  same, 
they  were  pretty  beastly  I  I  guess  it's  just  in 
the  blood,  and  they  can't  help  it. 

Well,  as  soon  as  they'd  got  all  the  detail* 
they  put  a  hustle  on.  They  shoved  a  handy- 
billy  tackle  down  through  the  engine-room 
skylight,  and  what  do  you  think  the  cunning 
devils  did  I  They  lifted  off  the  lead  of  the 
high-pressure  cylinder  and  lowered  it  aboard 
their  own  craft. 

"  Good  Lord  ! "  I  thought  to  myself,  "  that 
snuffs  out  the  cut-and-run  plan ! "  But 
naturally  I  said  nothing. 

They  weren't  more  than  half  an  hour  on 
this  job,  and  after  that  they  rummaged  the 
flag  locker  and  took  every  bit  of  our  bunting. 
It  was  pretty  plain  that  they  meant  that  we 
should  have  no  chance  to  fly  signals  during 
the  few  hours  they  expected  to  be  away  in 
chase  of  the  boat.  I  got  hoping  that  these 
signs  meant  they  would  leave  no  one  aboard 
on  guard;  but  I  soon  saw  I  was  mistakeii; 
for  after  holding  a  bit  of  a  pow-wow  on  my 
poop  the  commanding  officer  cleared  off  and 
left  two  armed  Germans  aboard  under  the 
control  of  the  man  who  had  been  lying  on 
the  floor  of  my  cabin. 

"Cap'n,"  sang  out  the  Commander  of  the 
submarine,  after  he'd  got  aboard  his  own 
craft  again,  "I'm  trusting  you  to  keep  order 
while  I'm  gone.  If  you  don't,  well,  my  men 
know  what  to  do,  and  there'll  not  be  one  of 
you  left  alive  by  the  time  I  get  back.  So,  I'd 
be  wise,  if  I  were  you,  Cap'n." 

"I'll  be  wise,  right  enough,"  I  told  him. 
"  I  guess  wisdom's  best  policy  just  now  1  " 

"At  a  premium,  Cap'n,"  he  said,  and 
called  down  the  speaking-tube  to  go  ahead. 


Pare  90 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


I  could  hear  him  laughing  for  a  minute  after- 
wards as  the  submarine  glided  like  a  fish 
into  the  darkness. 

I  leant  over  the  poop  rail  and  watched  her 
for  a  bit.  She  was  evidently  not  going  more 
than  half  speed,  and  I  guessed  the  German 
officer  was  anxious  not  to  get  loo  far  before 
daylight  lest  he  should  overshoot  the  boat 
in  the  dark. 

You  see,  he'd  got  the  course  the  boat 
would  steer  from  the  German  sailorman 
who  had  been  on  the  floor  of  my  cabin  when 
my  two  mates  made  so  many  unnecessary 
explanations ! 

I  grinned  to  myself;  but  all  the  same,  I  was 
deuced  anxious;  for  unless  I  could  bottle  up 
those  three  armed  Germans,  and  unless  Mac 
could  see  some  way  to  do  the  impossible,  and 
unless  I  could  carry  out  another  notion  or 
two  of  mine,  why,  I  couldn't  see  anything 
but  a  mess,  and  a  bad  mess,  inside  the  next 
twelve  hours  or  so,  with  good-bye  to  all  hopes 
of  ever  seeing  the  good  port  of  St.  John's  again 
at  the  end  of  it.  For  whether  the  submarine 
found  the  boat  or  not  we  could  expect  her 
back  before  the  day  was  half  through.  You 
see,  she'd  never  miss  a  chance  to  get  her 
torpedoes  off  at  the  ships  she  was  laying 
for. 

Anyway,  the  first  problem  was  how  to  get 
rid  of  those  three  big  Germans. 

Six  hours  later  I  went  on  deck,  but  the 
leading  seaman  person  wanted  to  show  he 
was  Lord  of  Creation  and  ordered  me  below 
without  bothering  to  be  polite  about  it.  And 
because  I  didn't  exactly  jump  to  do  his  bid- 
ding he  gave  me  a  poke  in  the  ribs  with  the 
butt  of  his  rifle  just  to  make  his  meaning 
clear.    It  was  !    And  I  went ! 

In  a  way  I  was  rather  pleased.  I  felt  more 
like  killing  a  man  or  two  than  I  did.  I  never 
was  much  good  at  the  cold-blooded  act.  But 
now  I  Well,  you  try  a  German  rifle-butt  in 
your  ribs  if  you  want  the  edge  taken  off  some 
of  your  finer  scruples  !     It's  effective  ! 

I  sat  a  bit  in  the  saloon  and  smoked,  then 
I  thought  I  would  risk  going  through  the 
alleyway  to  Mac's  room  and  have  a  word 
with  him.  When  I  got  there,  however,  Mac 
was  not  in  his  bunk,  and  I  knew  he  must  be 
down    in    the   engine-room.      So    I    thought 


I'd  risk   a   bit   more   and  follow   him   there. 
I  did. 

But  on  the  fiddley  I  stopped;  for  things 
were  happening,    right  there  before  me. 

Mac  was  up  at  the  open  head  of  the  high- 
pressure  cylinder,  with  his  rule  and  a  pair  of 
dividers  in  one  hand  and  a  piece  of  ch;jlk 
in  the  other.  At  the  moment,  however,  he 
vyas  not  taking  measurements,  but  lookitig  up 
at  the  engine-room  skyliglit.  As  I  looked 
up  also  I  heard  someone  say  from  the  engine- 
room  below  : 

"Vat  yoous  do  mit  dat  cylingder.  (iome 
away  dis  von  momengt,  or  tead  I  shood 
yoous !  " 

"Two  of  *em,  begowb  !  "  I  heard  Mac  mut- 
ter as  he  stared  down  now  into  the  engine- 
room  below. 

There  were  certainly  two  of  them  I  One, 
the  leading  seaman,  with  his  head  shoved  in 
under  the  leaf  of  the  open  skylight,  and  the 
other,  a  big  brute,  who  must  have  gone  down 
the  engine-room  stairway  and  entered  through 
the  stokehold  doorway. 

"Get  away  from  that  cylinder,"  said  the 
German  in  the  skylight,  speaking  such  perfect 
enough  English,  or  rather  American,  that  it 
seemed  to  carry  me  straight  back  home.  "Get 
away  right  now,  or  I'll  sure  lead  you  up  solid 
so  you'd  sink  a  thousand  miles.  I  will,  by 
Josh  I  " 

He  began  to  pass  his  rifle  in  through  the 
opening  of  the  skylight;  and  right  then  Mac 
acted. 

"Ye'll  do  phwatl"  he  said;  for  he's  an 
Irish  Mac,  not  a  Scottie.    "Ye'll  do  phwat !  ' 

He  said  never  another  word,  but  let  fly 
with  one  of  the  big  holding-down  nuts  from 
the  cylinder-head.  The  nut  took  the  German 
in  the  chest  with  a  thump  like  a  drum,  and 
the  man  went  white  and  gasped  a  moment. 
Then,  deliberately,  and  before  I  could  con- 
ceive he  would  really  do  such  a  thing,  he 
shot  poor  old  Mac  through  the  tniddle  of  his 
forehead,  and  Mac  flopped  a  moment  soft 
and  quiet  over  the  edge  of  the  cylinder.  Then 
rolled  with  a  dull,  sickening  thump  to  the 
floor  of  the  engine-room. 

Then  I  was  awake,  as  you  might  say. 
There's  one  thing  in  favour  of  an  automatic, 
it's  quicker  in  the, change-speed  gear,  and  I 


CAXADA  y.V  KHAKI 


Page  91 


THEIR  "LITTLE  GREY  HOME  IN  THE  WEST" 


.•%....-v . 


ini>iiin«  ^ 


A  billet  known  as  "Our  Flat,"  just  behind  the  Lines 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


Paqr  92 


CANADA  TX  KHAKI 


ARRAS  IS  A  VAST  MONUMENT  TO  THE  HORRORS  OF  INVASION 


Not  a  house  escaped  the  enemy's  shell 


The  wreck  of  what  once  were  quiet  homes 


The  Grand  Place  was  the  most  stately  spot  in  France's  beautiful  old  city 


I 


Broken  shell  of  the  Cathedral's  glory 


Only  ruins   remain   of  the   Hotel   de  Ville 

Canadian   Official  Photographs 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Pape  93 


drilled  the  German's  forehead  with  two  38 
holes,  one  above  each  eye — one  for  payment 
and  the  other  for  good  measure. 

He  hung  there,  dead ;  half  of  him  one  side 
of  the  skylight-coaming,  and  the  other  half 
the  other.  But  I'd  no  time  to  think  about 
him;  for  something  split  away  a  great  piece 
out  of  the  peak  of  my  cap,  and  the  same 
moment  the  engine-room  loomed  again  to  a 
rifle-shot.  The  German  down  below  had 
loosed  off  at  me. 

However,  I'd  no  need  to  bother  about  him. 
The  second  engineer  and  two  of  the  stokers 
got  him  on  the  run,  and  what  they  did  to. 
him  was  sufficient  and  a  bit  over.  Only,  of 
course,  Mac  was  a  good  boss  and  well  liked, 
and  I  can't  say  /  blame  them. 

I  heard  someone  running  along  the  after 
well-deck  then,  and  I  stepped  out  with  my 
automatic  in  my  fist.  It  was  the  third  Ger- 
man, and  the  moment  he  saw  me  with  the 


automatic  in  my  hand  he  let  drive.  So  did 
I.  It  was  a  draw,  I  should  fancy,  for  we  both 
missed ! 

Before  he  could  work  the  bolt  I  let  drive 
again,  and  got  him  through  the  right  fore- 
arm. But  he  was  plucky,  right  enough.  He 
snapped  the  bolt  back  and  forward  and  fired 
from  his  hip.  The  bullet  took  away  the  whole 
of  my  right  coat-pocket  without  touching  me. 
It's  queer  what  tricks  a  bullet  will  play  at 
times. 

I  fired  again,  and  got  him  in  the  left  Hand, 
and  at  that  he  ran  all  the  way  aft  to  the  poop, 
crying  aloud  with  the  pain  of  it.  I  was 
sorry  for  the  beggar;  but  he  was  still  dan- 
gerous, for  he  had  taken  his  ride  with  him ; 
and  the  next  thing  I  knew,  he  snapped  oflF  a 
shot  at  me  from  behind  one  of  the  after 
ventilators. 

He  missed  me  by  a  mile.  I  guessed  he 
was  shaking  too  much,  and  I  felt  he  couldn't 


By  0<nn  Av<\ 

LIBEL 

Fancy  sketch  of  a  meeting  of  educated  savages  to  emphatically  object  to  the  libcllnm  •*atemcnt 

that  Hun  outrages  are  acts  of  primitive  savages. 


Page  94 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


hit  me  now,  except  by  a  fluke;  so  I  just 
rushed  him,  for  1  was  sick  of  the  killing, 
though  I  knew  the  brutes  would  not  have 
hesitated  to  shoot  the  whole  crowd  if  we 
hadn't  got  them  going  right  from  the  first. 

He  managed  another  shot  as  I  ran  at  him, 
which  was  the  best  he  made,  for  it  nicked 
the  left  side  of  my  neck,  and  I  bled  like  a 
pig;  but  it  was  nothing  more  than  a  shallow 
gouge;  and  the  following  instant  I'd  taken 
the  rifle  from  him  and  was  sitting  on  his 
head. 

Afterwards  I  whistled  for  the  steward,  and 
the  two  of  us  bandaged  him  up  and  carried 
him  down  '  and  locked  him  in  the  spare 
cabin  on  the  starboard  side.  Then  I  got 
busy. 

I  had  poor  old  Mac  put  in  his  berth,  and 
the  two  Germans  were  shoved  on  the  fore- 
hatch  under  some  canvas.  Then  I  went  for 
the  second  and  third  engineers  and  told  them 
what  I  wanted  doing. 

It  seems  there  is  an  old  high-pressure  cover 
in  the  store-room  that  has  been  there  for 
many  a  voyage,  and  Mac  had  been  planning 
to  make  a  try  at  fitting  it  on  in  place  of  the 
other,  so  that  we  could  get  up  steam  and 
be  away  before  the  submarine  returned. 

■We  got  the  cover  out  of  the  store-room,  and 
while  the  engineers  tried  it  for  the  fit,  I  had 
all  my  deck  hands  running  around  on  a 
special  job  of  my  own.  The  old  packet 
fairly  hummed  with  energy  let  loose, 

"  Well  ?  "  I  asked  a  bit  later  when  I  went 
back  to  the  engine-room.  "How  is  it,  you 
two  ?    Can  it  be  made  to  fit  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  second.  "All  the  bolt 
holes  don't  come  into  the  same  places,  and 
we'll  have  to  drill  four  new  ones,  and  we'll 
have  to  pack  her  up,  but  I  reckon  we  can  do 
it,  only  it'll  take  time." 

I  nodded,  and  Ifeft  them  to  get  at  it;  for 
they  are  good  men,  both  of  them,  and  I  knew 
they'd  do  their  darndest.  But,  as  you  can 
guess,  I  was  as  anxious  as  a  maggot  on  a 
hot  brick.  However,  I'd  business  of  my  own 
to  do,  and  I  did  it,  and  between  whiles  I  paid 
visits  to  the  engine-room,  and  I'll  own  to  a 
prayer  or  two;  for  there  would  be  no  sort  of 
mercy  shown  us  once  the  submarine  came 
back,  as  I  jolly  well  knew. 


Two  hours  passed,  and  I'd  paid  three 
visits  to  the  engine-room.  The  donkey-man 
and  two  stokers  were  taking  one-minute 
spells  at  a  geared  hand-drill  which  the  two 
engineers  were  tending  in  a  pretty  earnest 
sort  of  way. 

The  fourth  time  I  went  they'd  got  the  four 
holes  drilled  out  by  hand,  and  a  weary  job 
it  had  been  with  the  poor  tools  they'd 
got,  and  the  cylinder  cover,  of  course,  prov- 
ing to  be  extra  hard  stuff,  just  for  sheer 
cussedness. 

The  sixth  time  I  went  along  aU  hands  were 
busy,  working  like  madmen,  with  sheet 
copper  and  cold  chisels  cutting  out  packing 
to  raise  the  cylinder  head  which  was  not 
enough  domed  to  give  sufficient  clearance  to 
the  newer-pattern  piston. 

"Mister  Melbray,"  I  said  to  the  second  en- 
gineer, "it's  four  hours  and  twenty  minutes 
since  that  darned  submarine  went  away  look- 
ing for  the  dinghy.  I  guess  we  can  look  for 
her  back  any  time  inside  the  next  hour  or  so ; 
an'  if  she  finds  us  here  like  this  it'll  be 
bye-bye  for  all  of  us.  How  long  do  you 
reckon  you'll  be  now  before  you  can  put 
steam  through  your  gadgets?" 

"Another  half-hour,  maybe,  Cap'n,"  he 
told  me;  "an'  even  then,  it's  God  help  us, 
I'm  thinking,  if  we  can't  make  a  good  steam- 
tight  job  of  this.  She'll  have  to  do  all  she  , 
knows  to  get  anywhere  before  that  darned 
submarine  be  on  top  of  us,  if  we  don't  get 
shifting  before  she  gets  near  us.  What  do 
you  reckon  those  U  submarines  can  do  on  the 
surface,  sir?" 

"The  Lord  knows,"  I  told  him.  "No  one 
knows,  really;  but  I  understand  they're  sup- 
posed to  run  up  to  fifteen  knots  in  fine 
weather,  that  is." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  a  sort  of 
hopeless  fashion,  but  he  never  stopped  work- 
ing for  a  moment. 

"Give  us  another  twenty  or  thirty  minutes, 
Cap'n,"  he  said  at  last.  "I'll  try  her  then; 
and  I  guess  we'll  blow  something  adrift 
before  we  let  them  come  up  on  us." 

I  went  away  again.  I  had  sent  a  man  aloft 
to  keep  a  look  out  all  round,  but  there  were 
BO  signs  of  the  submarine ;  though,  as  a  bit 
of  a   breeze    had   sprung  up,    she   wouldn't 


CAS' A  DA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  95 


be  SO  easy  to  see  in  the  broken  water  if 
she  were  running  with  only  her  periscope 
out. 

I  walked  the  poop,  pretty  anxiously  for  the 
next  ten  minutes;  then  I  got  more  philo- 
sophical, and  decided  the  whole  job  wasn't 
worth  indigestion.  So  I  came  below  and  had 
a  smoke.  At  the  end  of  the  half-hour  I 
walked  forrard  to  the  engine-room  and  shoved 
my  head  in  the  skylight. 

"Well?"  I  asked. 

"Just  going  to  put  the  steam  through  her, 
Cap'n,"  said  the  second  engineer. 

He   was   sweating,   and   he   and  the   third 
engineer  and  the  donkey-man  were  heaving 
away   pretty   fierce   on   a   four-foot   spanner, 
compressing  the  sheets  of  copper  packing  to ' 
a  steam-tight  "consistency." 

And  then,  from  my  man  aloft,  came  the 
yelp  of  : 

"Submarine  on  the  port  beam,  sir  1  Sub- 
marine on  the  p6rt  beam.  She's  dead  on  the 
beam,  sir;  about  four  miles  off,  I  reck'n. 
.  .  .  She  ain't  got  the  boat! "  He  yelled 
that  out  with  triumph.  Then,  in  a  different 
voice  :  "  'Less  they've  sunk  her  !  " 

"That's  all  right,  my  lad  I  "  I  said  to  my- 
self.   "Don't  worry!  " 

You  see,  when  the  two  mates  explained 
their  proposed  course  with  such  exact  detail 
in  my  cabin,  well — they  were  remembering 
that  they  were  going  to  l^ave  one  German 
behind  just  for  the  one  purpose  of  passing 
on  that  bit  of  information.  I  need  hardly 
say  that  the  boat  steered  a  very  different 
course  indeed  1  That  would  have  been  on^ 
comfort  whatever  else  happened. 

I  shoved  my  head  in  the  engine-room 
again  to  see  how  they  were  managing.  As 
I  did  so  the  engine  began  to  turn  over  slowly. 
The  third  was  at  the  main  steam-valve  giv- 
ing her  steam  gently,  and  the  second  and 
the  donkey-man  were  standing  anxiously  by 
the  high-pressure  to  see  how  the  packing 
held  the  steam.  It  held  fine,  and  the  second 
grinned  up  at  me  as  pleased  as  Punch. 

"Good  man,"  I  said,  and  pulled  out  my 
head  and  bellowed  for  a  m^n  to  go  to  the 
wheel ;  for  the  old  Narcissus  had  started  to 
forge  slowly  ahead. 

I  went  to  the  side  and  grinned  down  like 


a  delighted  maniac  at  the  water  moving  past 
our  side  as  our  speed  increased.  Then  there 
was  a  yell  from  the  man  aloft. 

"They'm  shootin',  sir  I  They'm  shoot- 
in' 1  " 

As  he  yelled  I  heard  the  scream  of  a  high- 
velocity  shell  from  the  submarine's  si.\- 
pounder,  and  cr-rash,  a  regular  hole  was  bust 
in  our  steel  bulwarks  on  the  port  side  about 
thirty  feet  foreside  of  me,  for  the  shell  struck 
there  and,  burst,  the  bits  cracking  and 
thudding  viciously  all  over  the  place.  I 
should  never  have  imagined  that  six  pounds 
of  iron  would  have  gone  so  far  in  the  spread- 
ing line.  It  sounded  like  half  a  hundred- 
weight. 

No  one  was  hurt,  and  I  made  one  jump  for 
the  bridge  and  rang  the  telephone  for  full 
speed  ahead. 

"Shove  your  helm  over  hard-a-port  I "  I 
shouted  at  the  man  at  the  wheel. 

As  the  old  Narcissus  started  to  pay  off  I 
saw  a  flash  aboard  the  submarine,  now  about 
two  and  a  half  miles  away,  or  perhaps  a  bit 
less.  And  then,  almost  in  the  same  instant, 
the  queer,  beastly  "meeee"  whine  of  the 
high-velocity  shell  crowding  the  wide  miles 
into  a  couple  of  seconds.  "Meee-owww,"  it 
went,  changing  its  note  in  a  queer  fashion  as 
it  came  for  us.  Then  "cr-rash"  again,  and 
the  whole  top  of  the  engine-room  skylight 
seemed  to  fly  up  in  a  shower  of  glass 
splinters. 

I  grabbed  the  speaking-tube  to  the  engine- 
room. 

"  Anyone  hurt  ?  "  I  called. 

After  a  few  moments  the  third  engineer's 
voice  answered  : 

"  It  got  the,  second,  sir.  He's  dead.  The 
engine's  all  right,  though,"  he  said.  He 
sounded  calm  enough,  and  I  sent  a  man  for 
the  steward  to  go  down  the  engine-room  and 
see  if  the  second  was  quite  knocked  out. 
Then  I  turned  and  looked  for  the  sub- 
marine again.  She  was  right  astern  now  and 
seemed  to  be  gaining  only  slowly.  As  I 
stared  I  saw  the  flash  of  the  gun  again,  and 
then  once  more  came  the  beastly  whine  of 
the  shell. 

"  Bang  !  "  it  struck  the  middle  steel  bridge- 
stanchion   which   supports   the  centre  of  the 


Page  9« 


CANADA    IN    KHAKi 


By  Tom  Arthur 

Professional  Guardian  of  the  Peace  (who  knows  where  the  sergeant  is):    "Evening,  gentlemen. 

Nasty  night  for  your  job." 


bridge.  This  is  a  stout  three-inch  stanchion 
of  solid  steel.  The  shell  gouged  away  a  piece 
as  easily  as  if  it  had  been  putty  and  burst 
with  a  stunning  crash  directly  under  the 
bridge.  Two  of  the  middle  planks  were  blown 
up  on  end,  and  in  three  places  fragments  of 
shell  struck  clean  up  through  the  deck  of  the 
bridge  penetrating  right  through  the  heavy 
planks.  One  of  these  fragments  killed  the 
man  at  the  wheel,  and  I  jumped  to  steady  the 
helm,  while  I  sung  out  for  another  man  to 
come  aft. 

I  looked  round  with  a  feeling  of  despair. 
The  whole  sea  was  empty  of  shipping  from 
horizon  to  horizon,  and  I  didn't  pretend  to 
hide  the  fact  that  nothing  short  of  a  miracle 
could  save  us;  for  the  German  wasn't  out  to 
coddle  us,  I  could  bet  on  that ! 

The  steward  came  up  on  the  bridge  and 
reported  that  the  second  engineer  was  head- 
less and  therefore  unmistakably  dead.  I  told 
him  to  give  a  hand  to  carry  the  dead  helms- 
man down  on  to  the  main  deck  hatch,  and 
then  bring  a  flag  and  cover  him.     I  guessed 


we'd  be  gone  inside  twenty  minutes;  but  we 
might  as  well  be  decent. 

1  was  just  beginning  to  get  sentimental 
over  the  old  folks  at  home  and  saying  a  last 
farewell,  as  it  were,  to  all  my  pals  in  New- 
foundland I  should  never  see  again,  when  I 
caught  suddenly  the  "  meeee "  scream  of 
another  shell  coming.  "  Meeee-oww,  cr-rash  I  " 
...  It  ripped  a  monstrous  great  chunk  out 
of  the  funnel,  about  half  of  it;  and  it  seemed 
to  me  I  felt  our  speed  drop  right  then  in  that 
same  moment. 

Then  one,  two,  thuee,  four  .  .  .  one  after 
the  other  they  loosed  oflf  at  us  as  fast  as, they 
could  work  the  quick-firer.  The  air  seemed 
one  whining  scream  as  the  four  shells  came 
"Cr-rash  !  Cr-rash  !  Cr-rash  I  Cr-rash  I  "  The 
rest  of  the  funnel  vanished.  The  wheel,  and 
the  man  at  it,  v^ent  in  a  flying  cloud  of  spokes 
and  torn  flesh  and  clothing,  and  the  after 
mast  was  punched  clean  through,  and  the 
chart-house  was  wrecked.  My  steward  was 
wounded,  and  I  saw  one  of  the  deck  boys 
limping  along  the  main  deck. 


CAXADA  IX  KHAKI 


Page  97 


BURIED  TREASURE  AT  SOUCHEZ  THE  BOCHES  NEVER  FOUND 


Canadians  dug  up  the  money  which  the  officials  r^i   the   recovered   town   had   hidden   two  years 
before  when  they  were  compelled  to  fly  before  the  enemy 


1  i.e  Alderman,   with  the  Mayor  on  his  right,  finds  the  cash  correct,  and  is  delighted 

Vaiituliaii  Official  Photograph 


Page  98 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


A  THILLING   PASTIME:     "SNAPPING"   SHELL-FIRE  AT  THE   FRONT 


The   Canadian    photographer   was    well     to     the  front  when  he   "took"   this  portion  of  the 

German  barrage  at  the  Somme  offensive 


Three   remarkably   interesting    "studies"   of  trench-mortar  shells  bursting 


Cluster  of  shells  bursting  on  Vimy  Ridge 


A  mine  exploding  on  Vimy  Ridge 

Canadian   Official  Photographs 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


Pagr  !)9 


WONDERFUL  SNAPSHOT  STUDIES  OF  BURSTING  SHRAPNEL 


A  picture  taken  close  up.     The  shell  killed  several  men  near  the  photographer 


Smoke  from  bursting  shrapnel  frequently  assumes  fascinating  and  fantastic  shapes 


A  view   from  Vimy  Ridge.      Enemy  shrapnel  bursting  over  advanced  positions  to  which  the 
Canadians  had   pushed   towards  Lens  after  the  victory 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


Vnqr  100 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


BRINGING  THE  WOUNDED  FROM  THE  BATTLE  OF  HILL  70 


Fierce  as  was  this  engagement  the  casualties  were  remarkably  light 


German  prisoners,  as  usual,  were  glad  'o  help  carry  in  their  own  wounded 

Vunaclian    Official   Photographs 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Pa^e   101 


"Jehoshaphat!  "  I  said;  "we're  done  1  " 
...  I  didn't  even  know  I  was  bleeding  all 
down  my  face  where  a  shell-splinter  had 
cut  me. 

Two  more  shells  came  Thud  !  Thud  ! — 
dull  ugly  thumps  away  aft  in  the  stern  of  her 
that  told  me  the  Germans  had  started  now  to 
sink  us  in  real  earnest.  You  never  saw  such 
deliberate  murder  ! 

"Cr-rash  !  "  came  another  shell,  higher  this 
time,  and  killed  the  boy  who  was  limping 
along  the  deck. 

I  stared  round  and  round  the  horizon  in 
despair.  I  sung  out  to  the  man  aloft  to  know 
whether  he  could  see  anything.  He  simply 
shook  his  head  in  a  hopeless,  silent  sort  of 
way. 

I  found  myself  praying  aloud  in  a  fierce 
sort  of  fashion  for  a  miracle  to  happen ; 
for  nothing  but  a  miracle  could  save  us 
now. 

And  suddenly,  like  the  voice  of  God  : 

B-A-N-G ! 

It  was  coming  from  somewhere  ahead  of 
us  on  the  starboard  bow,  but  precious 
close. 


I  raced  across  to  the  starboard  end  of  the 
bridge  : 

B-A-N-G  ! 

The  miracle  had  happened.  A  long  grey 
shape  was  tearing  through  the  sea,  firing  as 
she  went. 

It  was  one  of  our  latest  submarines  that  had 
just  bobbed  up  : 

B-A-N-G  ! 

I  whipped  round  with  my  binoculars  and 
stare^  at  that  murdering  brute  astern. 

"  Flash  !  " 

I  was  just  in  time  to  see  her  go  straight 
down  into  hades  with  all  her  devils  aboard  of 
her.  The  shell  from  the  submarine  ahead  had 
hit  her  slap  at  the  base  of  the  conning-tower, 
and  she  just  simply  vanished — went  1 

No,  there  was  no  miracle  about  it;  not  if 
you  want  to  argue.    But  I  don't  1 

The  dinghy  was  overhauled  and  my  two 
mates  and  the  greaser  taken  aboard  by  the 
submarine,  one  of  our  latest  type  on  patrol 
duty.  The  poor  old  Narcissus  foundered 
inside  of  half  an  hour. 

But,  by  the  Lord,  I'm  a  believer  in  miracles 
from  now  onwards. 


By  A.  MortUnd 
Sergeant  (who  has  exhausted  his  vocabulary):    '•Would  you  like  me  to  say  'please'  to  you?" 


r.nrc  102 


CANADA    IN    KHAK, 


YE  OLDE  MESS  TIN 
SPEAKETHE ! 

By    Private    F.    W.    DAGLISH 

Illustrated  bt>  WDLEY  HARDY 


NEARLY  every  item  in  the  Army  has 
been  "  iMentioned  in  Dispatches." 
F.ven  my  unworthy  friend  the  Ross  Rifle  ha^ 
received  write-ups  galore,  but  never  a  word 
about  me.  Yet  I'll  wager  that  I've  been  of 
more  service  to  Tommy  than  any  rifle. 

I  distinctly  remember  being  born.  That 
IS  much  more  than  some  of  you  can  do. 

How  proud  I  felt,  the  day  they  piled  me 
up  with  hundreds  more,  shining  in  my  newly 
tinned  glory.  But  those  nursery  days  were 
short. 

I  was  soon  hustled  into  the  world  to 
finally  attach  myself  like  a  faithful  dog  to 
Tommy ;  to  be  blest,  curst,  kicked  and  dented 
around  the  battlefield. 

I  understood  that  my  duties  were  to  carry 


I  ha  been  used  for  a  shaving-mug " 


and  hold  fo'od  and  drink  for  Tommy ;  1  never 
thought  of  being  brought  so  low  down 
as  to  becorhe  a  "wash-bowl"  and  "hand 
basin."  I  have  also  been  used  for  a  shaving 
mug. 

I  cried  so  much  at  this  injustice  that  the 
tears  salted  down  the  outside,  and  I  rusted. 
No  gentle  hand  or  dry  cloth  was  used  to  wipe 
my  face.  Eventually  when  on  parade  an 
officer  bawled  Tommy  out  for  my  sickly  look- 
ing condition. 

The  result  of  this  interview  was  my  being 
scrubbed  and  scoured  most  mercilessly,  with 
threats  and  curses  about  being  thrown  on  the 
scrap  pile. 

During  my  career  I  have  been  a  "Loving 
Cup"  to  many  thirsty  mouths;  I  was 
originally  intended  for  the  "Tea-total" 
service,  but  was  soon  torn  away  from  those 
moral  paths. 

I  have  often  visited  the  estaminet,  and  been 
brought  back  home  foaming  at  the  mouth ; 
getting  gleeful  satisfaction  in  the  morn  watch- 
ing the  grimace  made  by  Tommy  as  he  tasted 
his  tea  mixed  with  the  dregs  from  the 
debauchery  of  the  night  before. 

I  have  even  in  a  small  way  attempted  to 
compete  with  the  big  Stone  Jar.  Many  a  time 
has  Tommy  stolen  away  with  me  at  night, 
with  an  exploited  portion  of  "Neat  stuff" 
filched  from  that  jar. 

My  internal  discolourings  would  turn  the 
inside  of  a  black  teapot  green  with  envy. 
You  may  laugh  when  I  say  I  have  even  saved 
Tommy's  life  on  more  than  one  occasion. 
Yes,  this  little  thin  crescent-shaped  piece  o' 
tin  has  sufficed  to  turn  aside  many  a  deadly 
piece  of  shrapnel. 

My  career  nearly  came  to  an  end  one  bright 
moonlight  night  when  going  "over  the  top." 
Poor  Tommy,   he  "Went  West,"  and  Fritz 


CAS  ADA    /.V    KHAKI 


Page  I 03 


"I  have  often  visited  the  estaminet" 

pounced  upon  me  with  many  guttural  ex- 
clamations. How  I  hated  that  German ;  he 
was  like  all  the  rest  of  them,  "souvenir-hunt- 
ing," I  suppose. 

I  will  admit  he  polished  me  up,  and  for  a 
while  he  seemed  quite  proud  of  me.  But  soon 
the  novelty  of  my  capture  wore  off,  and  I  was 
torn  from  my  pedestal  to  administer  to  his 
gluttonous  appetite. 

How  I  longed  to  be  under  the  BrJtish  flag 
once  more,  to  carry  a  D.C.M.  (Decent 
Canadian  Meal)  to  some  hungry  Tommy. 

My  breath  soon  reeked  with  the  taste  and 
smell  of  mysterious  sausages,  while  fats  and 
oils  of  a  doubtful  character  sickened  me. 

One  night  after  supper,  when  lying  on  the 
shelf,  I  heard  great  excitement  outside.  My 
German  friends  "beat  it,"  leaving  me  all 
alone.  A  bomb  hurled  down  the  steps  blew 
me  clean  off  the  shelf ;  I  sure  thought  my  last 
day  had  come- 


Then  down  those  steps  came  a  bunch  of 
Tommies,  flashing  lights  everywhere.  How 
glad  I  was  to  hear  an  English  voice  once 
more.  Then  I  thought,  "Suppose  they  miss 
me,  or  think  me  of  no  consequence."  My 
heart  froze  within  me  when  one  fellow  kicked 
me  into  the  corner. 

But  one  of  them  grabbed  me,  saying, 
"Just  what  I  want  I  Fancy  raising  a  Billy 
Can  in  Fritz's  lines,  after  hollering  my  head 
off  at  the  Q.M.  two  months  for  nothing." 
He  then  looked  me  over  and  saw  poor 
Tommy's  name  scratched  on  the  bottom.  His 
face  hardened  as  I  heard  him  say,  "Belonged 
to  some  poor  devil  that's  'Gone  West,'  I 
guess." 

For  a  time  I  was  cared  for  much  better 
by  this  fellow  than  before;  perhaps  he  had 
learnt  from  experience  the  value  of  a  Mess 
Tin. 

Eventually  I  was  thrown  on  the  scrap 
pile  to  make  way  for  one  of  those  r.ew 
"Draft  tins."  Having  done  my  duty,  I 
desired  to  "Rest  in  Peace,"  but  such  was  not 
my  lot. 


"  Just  what  I  want ! " 

I  was  salvaged  with  many  other  things, 
shipped  to  the  Base  Hospital,  and  there  re- 
tinned  and  soldered,  and  shipped  up  the  line 
again,  just  like  new. 

No;  my  career  is  not  ended,  I'm  here  for 
the  Duration,  if  not  a  little  longer. 

Pte.  F.  W.  Daiglish,  O.M.F.C. 


Pnse  104 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


WHAT'S 

By  CAPTAIN    A.   ROCKE 


When    you've    done    your' 
bit    in    Flanders,   that 
amazing  muddy  spot, 

It  starts  one  cogitating  and 
a-wondering  what's 
what — 

Why  you  left  the  plough, 
the  ink-pot,  or  some  other 
"cushy"  job 

For  the  slushy,  shivering 
trenches  with  a  vermin- 
stricken  mob  ? 

'Cause  a  Tommy  is  but 
human  after  all,  and 
prone  to  doubt 

What  the  devil  all  the  kill- 
ing and  the  murdering's 
about. 

Ever  since  I  came  to  Blighty 

I've  been  reading  ^p  a  bit 
How    the    world    was    ever 

fighting;   had   to  have   a 

martial  fit 
In  the  Bowery  or  the  Bal- 
kans or  some  Asiatic  zoo, 
Where   a  martyr   may   be 

Tartar,    Mongol,    Malay, 

or  Hindoo. 
E'en    the   pre-historic   cave 

man    was    as    happy    as 

could  be 
As    he    slew    his    sleepi 

bride  with  nasty,  neolithic 

glee! 


ng^^/ 


WHAT 

ROBERTSON,   C.A.M.C. 

Then  the  Jews  and  'Gyp- 
tians  also  were  a  mighty 
martial  lot — 

Slew  each  other  with  a  shin- 
bone,  ass's  jaw,  or  drink- 
ing-pot. 

Interference  with  longevity 
was  their  besetting  sin  ; 

They  were  fairly  nuts  on 
brevity— unless  it's  men- 
tionin' 

Methuselah,  the  good  old 
scout,  who  lived  a  life  so 
long 

That  he  rivals  Johnnie 
Walker  in  the  art  of  "go- 
ing strong." 

And  as  for  Greeks  and 

Romans,  well,  they  made 

a  mess  of  it, 
'Twas   a    scandal    such    as 

Vandal,    Hun  or   Goth 

would  ne'er  commit — 
So  civilised  and  legalised ! 

Ach    Gottl    it's    all    the 

same. 
Only  "Kultur  "  is  a  vulture, 

eau-Cologned  and  slightly 

tame. 
It's  no  use  reading  history ; 

the  riddle  or  the  plot 
That  the  sages  of  all  ages 
couldn't  solve  remains — 
what's  what. 


By  J.  Hassall 


4 


A  WAR-TIME  WARNING 


r,y  TIwiiuLs  11  cur y 


CAXADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  106 


By  Frank  Stychi 
Cheerful   Pal   (to   weary  Tommy  on   his  first   route   march,  with  Main    Body  half  a   mile   ahead) : 

"What  are  yer  laughing  at,  Charlie?" 


THE  COCKNEY  TELLS  THE 
CANADIAN    SOMETHING 

A  Veracious  Account  of  an  Actual  Conversation 


IN  the  days  before  the  war,"  said  the  Cock- 
ney with  emphasis,  "I  should  have  been 
paying  for  that  drink  of  yours,  and  I 
shouldn't  have  allowed  you  to  pay  for  this 
drink  of  mine " 

"You  don't  say,"  remarked  the  Canadian. 
He  had  his  doubts  evidently,  but  the  Cockney 
was  not  disturbed. 

"We  should  have  had  these  cocktails  to- 
gether, and  then  we  should  have  dined,"  he 
continued.  "Our  dinner  would  have  consisted 
of  caviare,  soup,  fish,  entree,  joint,  game,  two 
hundred  sweets  and  a  savoury.     We  should 


have  drunk  champagne,  and  brandy  that 
came  over  with  William  the  Conqueror.  The 
waiters  would  have  put  two  pounds  of  our 
change  under  the  bill  and  taken  five  bob  out 
of  the  eight  and  fourpence  they  brought  to 
us.  We  should  have  lighted  cigars  which 
now  cost  three  shillings,  and  they  would  have 
cost  us  two.  The  girls  would  have  taken 
creme  de  menthe,  and  twelve  pence  would 
have  bought  it.  But,  of  course,  we  should 
have  laboured  under  the  disadvantage  of  not 
seeing  their  ankles,  and  that  has  to  be 
remembered." 


Page  106 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


The  Canadian  became  reflective. 

"Say,"  he  exclaimed,  "it  almost  makes 
the  war  worth  while,  doesn't  it?  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  they  dressed  differently 
then  ?  " 

"Differently,"  said  the  Cockney,  "is  hardly 
the  word  for  it.  The  best  of  them  resembled 
Charles  Lamb  in  that  they  began  late,  but 
they  differed  from  him  in  that  they  did  not 
leave  off  early.  The  best  dresses  were  under 
the  table  most  of  the  time.  We  had  not 
reached  the  stage  when  the  more  a  woman 
took  off,  the  more  she  got  on.  There  was  a 
thing  called  a  hobble  skirt,  which,  looked  at 
sideways,  had  its  consolations.  A  woman 
leaped  from  the  pavement  to  the  platform  of 
the  omnibus  with  both  feet  together  and  a 
prayer  upon  her  lips.  When  the  Kaiser  saw 
her  doing  it  he  mobilised  his  army.  That  was 
the  real  cause  of  the  war." 

The  Canadian  said,  "Have  another,"  and 
then  put  the  Cockney's  shilling  dreamily  into 
his  own  pocket. 

"Is  that  what  the  Bishops  have  been  talk- 
ing about?"  he  asked. 

"It  is,  sir,"  said  the  Cockney;  "war  has 
brought  great  good  and  great  evil  in  its 
train.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  war,  sir,  I 
should  have  been  a  plus  two  man  at  golf  by 
this  time  and  might  have  won  the  Amateur 
Championship  at  Sandwich.  We  played 
games  in  those  days,  and  a  million  people 
lost  half  their  wages  at  football  every  Satur- 
day. Lawn  tennis  absorbed  the  greatest  in- 
tellects, and  the  card  game  of  Patience  had 
somehow  put  whiskers  on  the  memory  of 
William  Shakespeare." 

The  Canadian  said,  "Gee,"  but  did  not 
quite  get  it.  He  wanted  to  know  about  those 
girls. 

"  Plenty  of  'em  about  before  the  war  ?  "  he 
asked.  The  Cockney  worked  out  the  sum  like 
lightning,  remembering  that  two  shillings 
and  fivepence  plus  one  old  brandy  stood  for 
ten  shillings  sterling— as  the  waiter  at  the 
hotel  had  taught  him. 

"There  were  girls,"  he  said,  "but  not 
enough  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  Bishops. 
Mostly  they  had  primitive  notions,  and  the 
soldier  in  mufti  was  often  a  back  number. 
Phyllis  behind  the  footlights  was  quick   in 


discovering  exactly  how  much  moss  had  been 
gathered  by  Abraham,  and  the  attentions  of 
Isaac  were  soon  derided  when  they  became 
unremitting.  W^ar  has  changed  all  that.  A 
soldier,  who  is  not  honoured  of  Cox,  could 
sup  with  half  a  dozen  of  the  major  and  the 
minor  constellations  every  night  if  the 
champagne  and  the  supper  were  to  be  found. 
In  the  old  days  he  was  very  lucky  if  he  could 
hand  out  Phyllis  at  the  door  of  the  Savoy 
and  find  her  table  ready.  He  would  have 
gone  there  through  a  blaze  of  lights  in  the 
streets  and  have  read  divers  illuminated  ad- 
vertisements of  pills  worth  a  guinea  a  box. 
These  he  could  have  pointed  out  to  her  for 
lack  of  any  other  common  topic  of  conversa- 
tion, and  possibly  he  would  have  declared 
that  she  was  worth  very  much  more.  In  the 
hotel  itself,  somebody  might  have  danced 
the  Tango  as  a  profession  of  Western  civili- 
sation, and  a  first-rate  orchestra  would  have 
grappled  with  the  technicalities  and  the  ab- 
sorbing difficulties  of  that  intricate  score, 
'  You  Made  Me  Love  You.'  It  is  true  that 
at  half-past  twelve  the  lights  would  have 
played  monkey  tricks  as  an  intimation  to  you 
to  'get.'  But  you  had  only  to  move  on  a 
street  or  two  to  find  a  night  club  where  you 
sat  in  a  box  and  drank,  or  barged  into  other 
people  who  had  been  sitting  in  boxes  and 
drinking.  This  was  the  very  last  word  in 
cosmopolitan  debauchery.  You  might  have 
another  word  with  the  policeman  outside  if 
you  asked  him  whether  it  was  Bond  Street  or 
Thursday — but  that  was  a  minor  affair.  A 
dinner,  a  rollicking  show,  brightly  lighted 
street,  London  awake  all  night,  golf  to- 
morrow if  you  could  see  the  ball,  racing, 
football,  cricket — all  gone  into  limbo,  sir. 
Do  you  wonder  that  I  am  proposing  that  we 
should  refill  these  glasses." 

The  Canadian  offered  no  objection. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "are  you  really  say- 
ing that  it  wasn't  until  the  year  1915  that 
they  took  two  reefs  in  the  mainsail,  so  to 
speak,  and  let  you  see  their  ankles?" 

"  It  was  not,"  replied  the  Cockney  with  a 
scb  in  his  voice. 

"Then  the  war  is  all  right,"  said  the 
Canadian,  and  he  laid  down  two  shillings 
with  the  dexterity  of  a  practised  hand. 


CAXADA    IX    KHAKI 


Page  107 


THE  ASSISTED  JOURNEY 
"Thank  Gawd  fer  that  bit  o'  rest.  Bill!" 


Page  108 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


(A  very  dramatic  sketch 


THE  SWORED 

By   H.   SMALLEY   SARSON 

/ 

tPen 


It  may  be  acted  without  fee  or  iWence  by  anyone  applying 
for  a  commission.) 


Time. — Three  years,  or  the  duration. 

Place. — The  ancestral  home  of  young 
subaltern,  who,  having  been  granted  fourteen 
days'  leave  for  the  purposes  of  buying  kit 
preparatory  to  leaving  on  draft,  has  just  in- 
%ested  four  pounds  odd  in  a  sword. 

Curtain  discovers  Lieut.  X.  standing  in 
front  of  large  mirror  struggling  with  obstinate 
buckles.     Sings: 

A  Captain  Courageous  of  sixty  odd  blades, 

All  ready  to  fight 

By  day  or  by  night, 
I  leave  every  rival  in  love  in  the  shades, 

To  fret  and  to  fume 

In  perpetual  gloom, 
Whilst  I  steal  the  hearts  of  the  prettiest  maids. 

Chorus. 
O,  I  am  a  soldier  exalted  and  fierce, 
1  can  parry  in  quatre,  I  can  parry  in  tierce, 
And  leave  every  rival  in  love  in  the  shades 
As  Captain  Courageous  of  sixty  odd  blades. 

Having  extricated  the  weapon  from  between 
his  legs,  Lieut.  X.  continues: 

I  can  handle  my  man  with  the  veriest  ease, 
A  lightning  twist 
Of  my  elegant  wrist — 
So;  I've  skewered  his  heart  and  he  drops  to 
his  knees; 
One  moment  to  feel 
The  keen  edge  of  my  steel, 
Then  I  sever  him  close  to  the  waist,  if  you 
please. 

Chorus  again  with  vigour. 

My  noble  Excalibur  clasped  in  my  hand. 
With  vivre  and  aplomb, 
With  gun  and  with  bomb, 


Then  I'll  marshal  my  men;  at  the  word  of 
command, 
We'll  scatter  poor  Fritz 
To  a  million  bits; 
Or,   point  at  his  throat,  on   his  carcass  I'll 
stand. 

Sings  final  chorus,  making  violent  lunges  at 
washstand. 

O,  I  am  a  soldier  exalted  arid  fierce, 
I  can  parry  in  quatre,  I  can  parry  in  tierce; 
Whether  one  against  fifty  or  leading  in  raids, 
I'll    be    Captain    Courageous    of    sixty    odd 
blades. 


SCENE  TWO. 

Time. — Some  two  months  later  in 
trench  321B.S. 

Lieut.  X.  discovered  groping  at  2  c^ -in.  in 
two  feet  of  water. 


Lieut.  X. :  Where  the  .  . 
stick?  We're  due  to  go 
minutes ! 

Slow  curtain. 


did  I  leave  my 
over    in    seven 


1 


"TRUMPS!" 


By  Frtderick  Gamett 


CAXADA   /.V  KIIAKI 


Page  109 


WITHIN  THE  SUBURBS  OF  LENS 


Battered  Shelter  of  water  tanks 


Peep  of  ruined  Willerval 


\{ 


In  spite   of  desperate   German   resistance   the  Canadians   pushed   into   Lens.      Here     are     the 

remains  of  a  Boche  barricade 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


Page  110 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


THE  MORE  THE  HUNS  CALL  ON  THEIR  "GOOD  OLD  GERMAN  GOD"— 


A   church   which   the   Germans   pulverized   beyond   recognition.      They   still   shell   the   ruins 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


C'^.V.l^).!  IX  KHAKI 


Pagi  111 


—THE  MORE  THEY  SHATTER  THE  HOUSES  OF  GOD  OF  OUR  ALLIES 

r 


Desolation  of  Albert  Cathedral 


Not   the   Huns'    fault   the  walls  still   stand 


Pitiful  is  the  wreck  of  this  church  whic'.i  the  Muns  shelled  viciously  for  months 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


I'nnr    112 


CANADA   l.\  KHAKI 


By   Norah   Schlcgel 
"See  here,"    said  Winter,    putting  his  arm  around  Mollie's  waist,  "this  is  where  you  quit. 
You  re  not  on  in  this  act."  "The  Knight-Ereant  itiom  Saskatchewan. 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  113 


The  knight-errant  FROM 
SASKATCHEWAN 

A  Short   Story  by   DONOVAN    BAYLEY 

ttlastrated  by  Norah  SchUgel 


ONE  of  the  most  disturbing  things  about 
the  campaign  of  Destiny  against  the 
little  plans  of  men  is  its  cat-footed ness. 

Telefer  Smaithe  looked  out  of  his  window 
at  the  highway  up  the  hill  past  his  house,  and 
saw  a  man  in  khaki  coming  slowly  along, 
stopping  every  now  and  then  to  admire  the 
vivid  gorse  on  the  common  on  each  side  of 
the  rambling  road. 

"This  place  is  becoming  crowded,  Mollie," 
he  said  to  his  secretary.  "As  soon  as  I  feel 
I  can  work,  that  very  moment  when  ideas 
begin  to  come,  my  attention's  distracted  like 
this !  This  is  the  third  time  this  morning  it's 
happened." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"What's  the  matter?  Look  out,  and  you'll 
see.  Why  doesn't  the  ass  get  on,  instead  of 
fluttering  about  in  front  of  my  windows  to 
destroy  my  ability  to  work?" 

The  girl  came  to  the  window,  and  stood 
beside  him  to  see  what  was  happening. 

"He's  not  making  a  noise,"  she  said,  "so 
why  look  at  him?  If  you  don't  look  outside, 
you  won't " 

"If  I  don't  look  out!  Mollie,  you  know 
how  much  better  I  write  when  I  turn  my 
eyes  to  the  stimulating  spaces.  Just  now  the 
editors  want  passionate  love  scenes.  How 
can  I  write  passionate  love  scenes  with  that 
man  out  there  behaving  like  a  weak-minded 
moth  ?  " 

He  sagged  back  in  his  chair. 

"I  came  to  this  place  to  be  quiet.  Every- 
body told  me  it  was  quiet.  Everybody — as 
usual — lied." 

He  looked  out  of  the  window  again. 

"Oh,  lord,  he's  sitting  down  I  He'll  be 
here  for  hours." 

"Don't   think   of   him.      Get   on   with   the 


story.  You've  broken  off  just  when  I  was 
all  wrought  up  and  excited.    Do  go  on." 

"How  can  I  go  on  ?  Look  at  him.  Lying 
on  his  back,  waving  his  great  feet  in  the  air." 

He  sat  up,  put  his  hand  under  her  elbow, 
and  pulled  her  down  until  she  was  sitting  on 
the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"My  head's  tired— baffled,"  he  said.  "Let 
me  rest  it.  Tell  me  when  that  gambolling 
crusader  has  gone.  Watch  for  me,  Mollie. 
At  least,  I  can  rest." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  idea  bag  was  nearly 
empty  to-day,  and  he  was  glad  of  an  excuse 
to  postpone  the  remaining  two  thousand  three 
hundred  words  to  finish  the  passionate  love 
story  upon  which  he  should  have  been  busy. 

There  was  silence  for  a  while.  Mollie 
watched  the  distant  soldier,  and  Telefer 
Smaithe  dozed,  his  head  against  her  shoulder, 
and  all  the  lines  on  his  forehead  smoothed 
out.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  look  best 
asleep. 

She  sat  thinking  over  all  the  stories  she  had 
helped  him  to  write,  and  wondering  what  the 
end  of  this  one  would  be.  She  liked  the  idea 
of  it,  the  originality  that  he  managed  to  get 
into  it. 

The  real — though  unconscious — reason  for 
her  approval  was  that  the  plot  was  her  own. 
Telefer  Smaithe,  however,  was  very  well 
aware  of  it. 

He  got  many  ideas  from  her.  Until  she 
had  come  to  work  for  him  he  had  been  one 
of  the  authors  with  about  a  dozen  plots,  who 
make  their  living  by  dolling  them  up  in  turn 
in  fresh  clothes.  That  is  why  he  was  in- 
tensely afraid  she  would  go,  and  leave  him 
back  again  in  his  rut. 

"What's  he  doing  now?"  he  asked 
suddenly. 


"Bowling  big  stones  at  a  gorse  bush.  He 
can  throw  well.    He  hits  it  every  time." 

"A  schoolboy  could  do  that." 

"It  looks  to  me  as  if  he's  practising 
bombing."  . 

She    got    up,   and   Stood   at   the    wmdow, 

intere.sted.  , 

"  I  would  like  to  know  how  many  men  he  s 
killed.     I  wish  I  were  a  man." 

"And  if  you  were ?" 

"I'd  kill  Germans.  See!  He's  going  now, 
I  think.  Look  at  the  decisive  way  he's  light- 
ing his  pipe." 

She  was  right.  The  pipe  drawmg  well, 
he  went,  leaving  the  common,  the  highway, 
and  the  whole  world  to  the  author. 

"Now  we  can  get  on,"  she  said  merrily. 
"If  the  writing  mood  hasn't  gone.   You've 
no    idea,     Mollie,    how    devastatingly    these 
interruptions  frustrate  me." 

"Authors  should  be  hermits,"  she  said 
soothingly.  "They  should  live  in  caves  in 
the  mountains." 

"Well,  let's  get  to  work,"  he  said,  newly 
brightened  and  made  cheerful,  for  his  quick 
brain  had  seen  a  practical  setting  for  another 
rustic  love  story,  the  tale  of  an  author  who 
fled  to  the  hills  to  get  on  uninterruptedly  with 
an  overdue  serial,  and  of  the  mountain  maid 
who  discovered  and  commandeered  him. 
That  was  the  way  in  which  Mollie  habitually 
helped.  That  one  remark  meant,  counting 
British  and  American  serial  rights,  at  least 
fifty  pounds,  and  she  was  always  dropping 
such  precious  gems. 

"We're  rather  lucky,  you  and  I,  Mollie," 
he  said.  "It  isn't  everybody  in  this  crabbed 
world  able  to  work  with  someone  so  in  sym- 
pathy as  you  and  I  are  with  each  other." 

"I  love  the  work,  I  love  it.  I  think  I 
should  go  mad  if  I  had  to  do  dry  business 
letters." 

He  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder.  "Well, 
well,"  he  said,  "let's  get  on.  Where  were 
we?" 

She  smiled  at  him  happily,  glad  to  be  of 
so  much  use  to  a  man  in  his  creative  art.  He, 
for  his  part,  had  a  difficult  game  to  play. 
He  wished  her  to  believe  he  cared  for  her, 
but  it  was  all  policy  on  his  part,  for  he  was 
too  selfish  to  be  really  in  love,  and  for  the 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 

next  couple  of  hours  he  kept  up  the  output  of 
modern  English  literature. 

And  ne.\t  day  the  soldier  was  there  again, 
just  as  lonely  and  energetic.  Telefer  Smaithe 
took  one  look  at  him,  groaned,  went  down- 
stairs, put  on  his  hat,  and  fumed  up  the  hill ; 
nor  did  he  come  back  until  he  was  physically 
too  tired  to  work. 

And,  moreover,  on  the  next  day,  which  was 
also  fine,  the  soldier  was  there  again ;  and  this 
time  he  was  at  his  most  distracting,  for  he 
made  himself  a  fire  and  cooked  by  it. 
Now,  that  is  not  done  in  England. 

"This  is  becoming  persecution,"  Telefer 
Smaithe  said. 

"  Persecution  ?  He's  probably  never  heard 
of  you,"  said  Mollie. 

The  author  looked  at  her  bleakly. 
"Please,"  she  said,  "I'm  awfully  sorry;  but 
I  don't  suppose  he  knows  he's  annoying  you." 
"I  want  sympathy,   Mollie,  and  you  give 
me  logic." 

Once  more  Telefer  Smaithe  departed  for 
the  day.  Besides,  he  had  not  worked  out  the 
hermit  story  yet  in  all  its  details. 

Mollie  put  her  note-book  away  with  a  sigh, 
thinking  of  two  editors  who  were  worrying 
him  for  overdue  manuscript.  She  peered  at 
the  soldier  from  behind  the  curtain. 

Then  one  of  her  brightest  ideas  glinted  into 
her  mind.  She  went  to  the  looking-glass, 
preened  her  hair,  thoughtfully  pulled  one — 
only  one — little  piece  of  it  across  her  cheek, 
and  happened  on  to  the  common. 

Lured  by  her  idea,  she  went  straight  up  to 
the  soldier,  intending  to  explain  that  a  great 
>yriter  lived  in  the  red  house  confronting  him 
— a  great  writer  whose  delicate  thoughts  were 
shattered  by  these  continued  activities  under 
his  study  window. 

The  soldier,  who  had  ideas  of  his  own, 
seeing  that  she  was  coming  towards  him, 
stood  up,  saluted,  and  said : 

"When  I  came  to  this  morning  I  had  a 
hunch  it  was  going  to  be  my  lucky  day." 

What  was  a  girl  to  say  to  that?  She  stood 
and  looked  at  him. 

"Say,"  he  said,  "do  you  warn  rescuing 
from  an  ogre,  or  is  there  a  dragon  of  your 
acquaintance  would  be  better  for  a  'ittle 
H.E.?" 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  115 


"A  little  H.E.?" 

"That's  what  I  said.  H.E.— High  Explo- 
sive. Sit  down  right  now,  and  tell  me  what 
I  can  do  for  you." 

"You  can  go  right  away,"  said  MoUie, 
"and  never  come  back.  You'd  make  me  very 
happy.     I  live  in  that  house  there." 

She  was  a  little  confused.  The  man's  eyes 
were  so  very  direct. 

"  Gee  I     Am  I  as  fierce  as  that  ?  " 

"You're  not  fierce;  I  didn't  say  you  were 
fierce." 

"Then  why  in  thunder " 

"Oh,    I    can't    explain.      It    isn't   for   my 


sake- 


For  it  had  become  apparent  to  her  that  she 
could  not  ask  this  man  to  give  up  his  enjoy- 
ment of  a  public  common  for  the  sake  of  any- 
body at  all,  even  Telefer  Smaithe. 


"If  you  really  mean' it,"  he  said,  "I'll  quit, 
and  I'll  stay  quit." 

"No,  no,  I  didn't  mean  it." 

"I  see,"  he  said;  "you  were  just  making 
conversation.  May  I  say  it's  a  gift  with  you  ? 
Won't  you  sit  down  and  hand  me  out  some 
more?     It's  sure  the  goods." 

Mollie  began  to  laugh.  So  did  he.  They 
stood  opposite  to  each  other,  laughing. 

"Now  we're  getting  on,"  he  said.  "But 
we'd  enjoy  it  much  better  if  we  sat 
down." 

She  sat  down  with  her  back  to  a  little  bay 
in  the  gorse  bushes,  and  he  lay  strategically 
at  her  feet. 

"You're  a  Canadian ? "  she  said,  for  he  had 
not  spoken  again. 

"You  must  be  little  Miss  Guesser  from 
Guessville." 


L 


By  W.  F.  Thomas 

".     .     .     And  is  it  true  that  two  shells  never  hit  the  same  place  twice?"         "Never!  " 
"  Er — curious  !     How  do  you  account  for  that  '  "  , 

"WelU  if  one  ot   our  heavies  hits  a    place  once,  there  ainl  any  place  for  the  sicoml  lo  hit  1  ' 


Pa^e  lie 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


•'But  it's  written  all  over  you  in  brass 
letters." 

"That's  so  as  we  won't  be  too  modest  to 
own  up  where  we  come  from.  Now,  say : 
you  came  straight  over  to  me  to  tell  me  some- 
thing, and  I  was  hoping  you  wanted  me  to  be 
of  use  some  way.  If  there's  anything  at  all  I 
can  do,  I  will." 

"Well,  I  did  mean  to  tell  you  something, 
but  now, I'm  afraid  you'll  be  offended." 

"Well,  if  you're  afraid  of  offending  me, 
it's  unperjured  evidence  that  you  don't  want 
to  do  it." 

"Of  course,  I  don't  want  to." 

"Then  you  can  say  what  you  like,  and  I'll 
keep  as  calm  as  a  clam  in  a  can  of  bromide." 

"You  see  that  window?"  she  said,  point- 
ing up  the  common  to  the  house. 

"Yes,  I  can  see  that  window." 

"Have  you  heard  of  Telefer  Smaithe,  the 
author  ?  " 

"I've  even  read  some  of  his  stories,  and 
still  I  wish  him  no  harm.     I'm  a  forgiving 


By  J  inner 
OflBcer  (to  Irish  Tommy) :  "  But  why  are  you 

writing  such  a  large  hand,  Murphy?" 
Private   Murphy :  "  Because    me   ould    mother 

is  deaf,  and  when  she  reads  it  out  loud  she  4:an 

hear  it  better." 


man.  My  chums  say  it's  my  worst  vice. 
What  about  the  window?  Did  one  of  his 
readers  throw  him  through  it?" 

"No,"  she  said;  "it's  his  study  window, 
and  I  work  for  him." 

"I'm  real  sorry  if  I've  offended  you.  For 
those  who  like  his  sort  of  writing,  he's  a  very 
great  author.  I'm  told  he's  a  best  seller. 
This  world  is  wonderful." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  was  thinking  of  a  wild  night  way  back 
in  Canada,  when  it  was  blowing  all  of  a  bliz- 
zard, and  then  a  bit  over,  and  I  sat  at  the 
red-hot  stove,  with  icicles  on  the  back  of  my 
neck,  in  a  railroad  hut,  reading  one  of  his 
stories." 

"Yes?" 

"I  little  thought  the  day  was  coming  I'd 
talk  to  anybody  who  knew  him  like  you  must." 

"Oh,  I  see.  Well,  when  he's  working,  the 
least  thing  distracts  him." 

She  stopped,  and  he  waited. 

"Don't  you  think,"  she  went  on,  "that  you 
could  have  just  as  good  a  time  on  this  com- 
mon if  you  kept  out  of  sight  of  that  window  ?  " 

"It's  become  part  of  my  religion." 

"Then  that  simplifies  it  tremendously. 
Would  you  think  it  very  impertinent  of  me 
if  I  asked  you  to  do  so?  I  know  anybody 
may  go  anywhere  on  this  common,  but  he 
writes  so  beautifully.  And  you've  put  him 
quite  off  work  for  the  last  three  days." 

"  Does  that  make  it  any  worse  for  you  ?  " 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  myself  at  all,"  she 
said.  "If  it  were  for  myself,  I'd  never  have 
spoken  about  it." 

,  "I  beg  your  pardon.  Of  course  you 
wouldn't.  Whereabouts  do  you  think  I 
ought  to  put  myself  not  to  scare  his  muse?" 

"Oh,  it's  awful  of  me  !  "  she  said.  "You've 
come  all  this  way  to  fight  for  England,  and 
then " 

"I  didn't.  I  came  to  fight  for  Canada,  and 
because  I  couldn't  tolerate  the  Kaiser. 
Where  would  i  shock  your  man  least  ?  " 

She  blushed. 

"I  shall  never  forgive  myself.  I  oughtn't 
to  have  asked  you." 

"But  why  not?  It's  a  very  little  thing  to 
do.  I  didn't  come  over  all  the  land  and  sea 
between    here    and    Saskatchewan    to  annoy 


J 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  117 


Mr.  Telefer  Smailhe;  and 
now  I'm  here  I  don't  pro- 
pose to  do  it." 

"  Anywhere,  where  he 
can't  see  you  from  the 
window." 

"Can  he  see  us  now  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!" 
•  He  smiled.    "I'm   quite 
civilised." 

"I  didn't  mean  that.  I 
meant  he'd  be  fearfully  an- 
noyed if  he  knew  I'd  asked 
you." 

"I  guess  you  know  him 
better  than  I  do,"  said  the 
Canadian.  "Let's  move 
camp  before  I've  hurt  his 
sensitive  mind  irrepar- 
ably." 

Wherefore,  upon  the 
next  day  when  Smaithe, 
feeling  that  he  ought  to 
work,  looked  out  across  the 
common  in  search  of  a 
reason  why  he  should  not, 
he  failed  to  find  one. 

"He  won't  worry  you 
again,"  said  Moilie. 

"Oh!    How's  that?" 

She  told  him  how  she 
had  gone  out,  and  had 
pleaded  with  the  Canadian 
to  efface  himself. 

"I  wish  you'd  spoken  to 
me  first,"  said  the  great 
author.  "Had  you  con- 
suited  me  first " 

"You'd  have  stopped  me.  I  know.  I  didn't 
want  to  be  stopped,  so  I  didn't  tell  you." 

"I  don't  desire  to  preach.  There's  nothing 
I  hate  more  than  preaching,  as  you  know; 
but  if  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  do  that  sort  of 
thing,  Moilie.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  it 
may  be  all  right;  but  it's  the  tenth  that 
counts." 

"But  I  did  it  to  make  things  more  comfort- 
able for  you." 

'I  know  that.  It  was  very  good  of  you. 
But  I'd  rather  have  put  up  with  any  incon- 
venience-  " 


By  HUda  Cowk» 
"Were  you  born  on  an  allotment,  grandpa?" 
"I  don't  think  so;  why?" 
"  Oh,  cos  Jackie  Brown  says  you're  a  dug-out." 


"Well,   it's  done  now.     We  ought  to  be 
able  to  get  in  a  lot  of  work  this  morning." 

He  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  gave  her 
great  deal  of  advice,  pointing  out  how  unwise 
it  is  to  trust  oneself  with  unknown  men,  hov 
ever  gallant  and  brave.  She  listened  de- 
murely, but  he  saw  that  he  had  not  convinced 
her,  felt  that  he  was  losing  his  hold  upon  her 
to  that  extent,  and  allowed  his  mind  to  get 
into  a  fussy  condition.  She,  to  her  own 
astonishment,  discovered  that  she  was  amused 
at  him,  and  sat  looking  at  the  spot  on  the  top 
of  his  head  where  the  hair  was  beginning  to 
become  discouraged. 


Page  118 

At  last  he  settled  down  to  dictate  the  story 
of  the  hermit.  After  lunch  he  went  for  a  walk, 
because  he  found,  by  sour  experience,  that 
physical  exercise  was  necessary  to  his  brain. 
Mollie  settled  down  to  type  her  shorthand 
notes,  and  then,  when  that  was  done,  took  a 
book  into  the  garden. 

"  Everything  cpmes  to  him  who  waits,"  said 
a  voice  from  nowhere.  She  looked  about  her 
and  saw  no  one. 

"  Don't  be  scared  any.    It's  your  little  white 
conscience  talking." 
"Where  are  you?  " 

"Where  I  belong.  Right  here,  at  your  feet, 
amongst  the  green  truck." 

She  looked  down  then,  and  saw  the  face  of 
the  Canadian  smiling  out  at  her  from  between 
a  couple  of  cabbages. 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  there  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"Keeping  myself  to  myself,  .to  show  I'm 
learning  English  ways.    Do  you  mind?" 

"No,  I  suppose  not,  if  you  like  it.  You're 
not  doing  any  harm." 

"Not  any.     I'm  too  old  a  scout  for  that. 
Say,  was  that  lad  who  went  scudding  past  a 
while  back  the  Telefer  Smaithe  ?  " 
"  Have  you  been  here  all  that  time  ?  " 
"Longer  than  that." 
"But  why?" 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  see  you.  Now  talk  to 
me.  I  shall  get  as  morose  as  an  Injun  if 
someone  doesn't  hand  out  some  talk  to  me 
soon." 

"Well,  come  and  sit  down  beside  me  like 
a  rational  being,"  she  said. 

After  all,  soldier-men,  particularly  from  the 
Dominions,  have  privileges. 

"No,  thanks;  I  guess  I'm  better  here.  If 
the  great  syllable  mechanic  happened  back, 
and  found  me  lolling  around,  he'd  want  ex- 
planations. I'm  quite  happy  here,  camou- 
flaged among  the  savoys." 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  come  out  1  How  can 
I  talk  to  a  head  in  a  cabbage-patch  ?  " 

"Please  don't  make  me,"  he  said.  "I'm 
playing  a  game  with  myself,  pretending  that 
vou're  in  the  power  of  an  ogre.  I  don't  want 
anyone  to  know  of  me, except  you.  Now  tell 
me  all  about  the  ogre,  and  I'll  see  best  how  to 
rescue  you." 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 

"There  isn't  any  ogre,"  she  said. 
"This  is  some  fairy  story,"  he  answered. 
"Not  only  is  the  maiden  in  the  power  of  an 
ogre,  but  she's  enchanted  too.  It's  up  to  me 
to  dissimulate.  Maiden,  let  me  admire  all  his 
excellences." 

"You're  rather  impossible,"  she  answered. 
"The  want  of  reasonable  conversation,  per- 
haps?" 

"That's   it,"   he  confessed.     "Talk  to  me 
about   how   literature   is   manufactured  these 
days,  and  my  parlour  tricks  will  all  come  back 
to  me,  glad  to  be  home  again." 
"First,  get  up  out  of  the  cabbage-bed." 
"What    must    be,    must    be,    though    the 
ground's  quite  dry,"   he  said,   rising  to  his 
feet,  though  he  took  great  care  not  to  be  seen 
from  the  house.  She  noticed  that,  and  smiled. 
"You're   nothing  but  an   overgrown  boy. 
Why  did  you  hide  like  this?" 

"Call  it  a  play  game,  and  let  it  go  at  that. 
Now  talk  to  me  about  yourself.  It's  seven 
and  a  half  centuries  since  I  had  any  real  talk 
from  a  girl." 

With  that,  they  got  on  quite  well  together, 
until  Telefer  Smaithe  came  in  at  the  gate.  For 
a  moment  she  wondered  how  she  would  ex- 
plain the  Canadian.  Then:  "Why  shouldn't 
I  talk  to  him  if  I  want  to? "  she  thought.  She 
stood  resolutely  up  to  face  the  author,  who 
strode  over  to  her. 

"Sunning  yourself?"  he  asked,  dropping 
one  hand  over  hers  on  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"I've  been " 

She  looked  round,  and  found  that  she  was 
alone  with  him.  The  Canadian  had  vanished 
as  soundlessly  as  would  have  faded  tlie  old 
"Injun  "  who  had  taught  him  his  scouting. 

She  did  not  see  him  again  until  the  end  of 
the  week,  when  Telefer  Smaithe  went  to  town 
to  interview  editors,  for  he  believed  in  the  per- 
sonal touch,  and,  by  inference,  in  his  own 
charm.  She  took  a  book  out  on  to  the  com- 
mon, for  she  had  nothing  to  do,  looking  sus- 
piciously at  the  cabbages  as  she  passed  by 
them,  but  no  voice  came  from  amongst  them. 
She  went  to  a  little  patch  of  bracken,  stretched 
out  among  its  cool,  green  fronds,  and  opened 
her  book. 

Soon  the  voice  came  again,  once  more  in- 
visible. 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  119 


By  S.  Sfymour 
"Come   on,  mine   kamerads  !     Ledt    us   encourage    ourselves    mit    der    conversation    about   der 
mighty  conquests  of  der  Vaterland,  until  ve   can   get  a   shanst   to   bunck  oudt  und  surrender  to  der 
British." 


%, 


"I  began  to  think  you  were  ill,"  it  said. 
"Where's  the  pawing  ogre,  the  monster  who 
keeps  you  on  the  treadmill  ?  " 

She  did  not  look  up  from  her  book. 

"You  mustn't  talk  like  that,"  she  said. 
'He  isn't  a  monster,  and  I  love  working  for 

•m.    Nothing  makes  me  happier." 

The  ferns  parted,  and  he  slipped  through 
them,  until  he  was  lying  face  to  face  with  her. 

"I  guess  he  can't  see  me  here,"  he  said, 
grinning  like  a  boy. 

"No,  I  suppose  not.     He's  in  London." 

"Since  you  haven't  asked  me,"  said  the 
Canadian,  "I'll  tell  you  my  secret.  My 
name's  Billy  Winter,  and  my  home  is  Sas- 
katchewan." 

"You're  quite  wrong,"  she  answered.  "  It's 
Puck,  and  you  live  in  a  cavern  under  the  hills. 
That's  why  you  come  and  go  so  mysteriously ." 

"I'm  sure  exposed.    Can  you  forgive,  or  are 


you  one  of  those  hard,  good  women  who'd 
hunt  a  gnome  into  the  never-never,  because 
he  didn't  carry  visiting  cards?" 

"Who  can  banish  Puck?" 

"It's  a  difficult  proposition.  Now,  tell  me 
what  you  do  with  yourself  all  day." 

He  made  her  talk  about  her  "work,  listening 
analytically  to  all  she  had  to  say,  and  putting 
innocent  questions  from  time  to  time,  until, 
before  she  '  had  finished,  he  had  a  clear 
enough,  and  true  enough,  impression  of  the 
exact  position. 

"She's  on  the  way  to  falling  in  io\t  with 
that  wordsmith,"  he  thought;  "and  it  won't 
do.    She'd  fit  my  home  like  a  coat  of  paint." 

"Now  tell  me  about  yourself,"  she  said. 
"From  the  hrst  day  I  saw  you  I've  been 
curious  about  one  thing." 

"And  what  is  this  thing?" 

"How  many  Germans  have  you  killed?" 


Page  120 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


"I've  never  used  a  weapon  in  this  war." 

"Do  you  mean  you  haven't  been  in 
Flanders  yet  ?  " 

"1  don't.  I  mean  I'm  an  engineer.  That's 
my  profession,  and  it  seemed  to  me  I'd  be 
more  use  where  I  belonged  than  in  the 
infantry." 

"Ohi^  I  see.    What  do  you  do  ?  " 

"Make  and  repair  all  sorts  of  communica- 
tions." 

"Oh,  you've  been  under  fire,  then?" 

"Frequently,  and  liked  it  less  each  time." 

"  I  begin  to  understand.  You  make  bridges 
and  railways,  and  roads  on  the  battlefield. 
You  must  have  been  the  means  of  killing 
many  Germans,  indirectly." 

"That's  what  I  tell  myself,  when  I'm  down 
in  the  mouth." 

"You  were  wounded  at  the  front,  then?" 

He  nodded. 

"It's  my  work  in  Canada  that  I  like  to  think 
about  most.  It's  just  as  big  a  fight  there,  and 
it's  all  to  the  good,  unrolling  railways  in  the 
backwoods;  and  after  me  homes  grow  up, 
with  contented,  happy  people  in  them,  and, 
as  I  go  up  and  down  the  line  in  the  construc- 
tion trains,  I  can  see  them.  When  God  made 
the  world  He  saw  that  His  work  was  good. 
Well,  that's  how  I  feel,  sometimes,  at  my  real 
work." 

"But  what  you're  doing  in  France  is 
splendid  too." 

"I  sure  wonder,"  he  said.  "Sometimes  I 
feel  I'm  asleep  in  a  ghastly  nightmare,  but 
"ve  always  got  the  notion  that  the  morning's 
certainly  coming  when  I'll  wake  to  a  good, 
clean  job,  pushing  a  bridge  out  over  a  white, 
tumbling  river,  so  that  the  wheat  cars  can  roll 
safely  along  the  trestles,  hundreds  of  feet  up 
over  the  roaring,  broken  water.  Now,  that's 
man's  work.  Just  that  one  bridge  for  a  gate- 
way into  new  lands  as  big  as  England.  Then 
we'll  clear  the  timber,  and  let  in  the  miles  of 
corn  to  help  feed  all  the  world.  That's  work 
for  a  white  man.  Say,  you're  laughing  at 
me." 

"No,  I  wasn't.    I  was  interested." 

"I  don't  often  let  off  speeches,"  he  said; 
"but  that  work  is  all  of  me,  and  nothing  else 
I  do  matters.  The  world  hasn't  begun  to  get 
a  hint  of  what  Canada's  going  to  be.    Well, 


that's  what  I  was  at.  And  then  this  lop-sided 
Kaiser  creature,  with  his  uniforms,  and  his 
posturings,  and  his  terrible  earnestness  about 
himself,  interfered.  Do  you  wonder  I  can't 
tolerate  him  ?  Can  you  tell  me  what  came 
over  Europe  that  it  let  him  happen  ?  " 

But  that  was  a  question  that  neither  she  nor 
anyone  else  could  answer. 

When  she  met  him  again  he  brought  her 
photographs  to  see.  He  showed  them  to  her 
hesitatingly,  unreasonably  afraid  that  she 
would  find  them  dull,  when  they  meant  so 
much  to  him,  for  they  were  records  of  things 
he  himself  had  done.  He  kept  side-glancing 
at  her  delicate  profile  as  she  bent  her  head 
over  them,  like  a  nymph  delightfully  puzzled 
by  scale  drawings. 

"Look  at  that,"  he  said,  showing  her  a  pic- 
ture of  a  single  track  line  running  through 
conifer  forests.  "Doesn't  look  much,  does 
it?" 

"Perhaps  not.  What's  the  history  of  it?" 
Her  eyes  dwelt  on  his  face,  reading  behind 
its  level  impassivity  the  spirit  that  had  made 
his  life  one  great  fight  for  mankind  against 
the  sullen  primitive. 

"It's  the  highest  bit  of  track  I've  ever  laid," 
he  said;  "and  it  meant,  amongst  many  other 
things,  eight  bridges,  and  four  hundred 
charges  of  blasting  powder  to  get  it  there. 
Now,  look  at  this." 

And  he  showed  her  a  clean,  new  town,  with 
a  church  and  schools  and  a  market  place 
and  broad,  level  roads. 

"I  made  that  possible,"  he  said.  "Five 
years  back  that  was  prairie.  And  now  see 
that." 

"But  that  isn't  Canada?  That's  a  destroyed 
town  at  the  Front." 

"Yes.  That's  the  Kaiser's  work.  If  you 
were  a  man,  which  would  you  rather  be?  Me, 
or  the  Kaiser?" 

"Why,  you  I  "  The  flush  on  her  face  and 
the  glow  in  her  eyes  showed  him  how  little 
doubt  there  was  of  that. 

"And  that's  what  keeps  me  a  sane  man  in 
this  nightmare.    See  here." 

He  handed  her  a  photograph  of  one  of 
the  great,  new  graveyards  "Somewhere  in 
France." 

"That's  the   German    Mountebank's   work 


t 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  12'' 


r 


too."  He  shuffled  the  prints  and  took  out 
another  for  her,  showing  ripening  corn  from 
horizon  to  horizon.  "And  that's  my  work. 
It's  certainly  odd  when  a  plain  man  can  weigh 
himself  against  an  Emperor,  and  find  the 
Emperor  shucks  in  the  balance.  We're  going 
to  get  a  new  conception  of  manhood  out  of 
this  war." 
"We've  got  it,"  she  said.  "Were  you  badly 

wounded?" 

"Not  enough  to  hinder  my  real  work.  Does 
it  appeal  to  you  ?  " 

"Tremendously,"  she  said.  "When  do  you 
think  you'll  get  back  to  it?  " 

"When  Germany's  whipped  and  yelping. 
If  they  won't  let  me  back  to  France,  I  can 
sure  be  of  some  use  over  here,  if  it's  only  as  a 
mechanic  in  an  aircraft  shop.  Whipping  the 
Kaiser's  a  rush  job  just  now.  I  don't  care 
what  I  do,  so  long  as  I  help  that  on.  Then 
we  can  get  back  to  sanity.  What  are  you 
thinking  of?  " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Just  thoughts."  She 
blushed. 

Really,  she  was  contrasting  him  with 
Smaithe,  and  wondering  why  she  had  ever 
thought  that  the  "wordsmith,"  or  his  work, 
mattered  so  vastly.  She  was  in  a  new  mood, 
and  not,  perhaps,  a  very  just  one — at  any  rate, 
as  far  as  the  necessity  for  his  work  was  con- 
cerned. Shakespeare,  it  might  be  argued,  was 
a  bigger  event  than  even  this  war.  On  the 
other  hand,  Smaithe  was  not  Shakespeare. 

"You  seem  fond  of  this  common,"  she  said, 
the  next  time  he  met  her  upon  it. 

"The  doctors  tell  me  that  moderate  exercise, 
and  all  the  open  air  there  is,  are  good  for  me. 
Besides,  I  met  you  here.    Do  you  remember  I 
called  you  an  enchanted  maiden  ?  " 
"Yes,  I  think  I  do.    Why?" 
"Oh,  because  that's  how  you  looked  to  me. 
That's  all  the  why  I  know.     You  live  here, 
remote  and  lonely.     I  came,  bored  from  the 
spinal  cord  to  the  skin,  not  expecting  to  meet 
a  friendly  soul,  and,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I 
happened  on  you,  you  who  lived  in  another 
world,   familiar  spirit  to  a  wizard  of  make- 
believe.    It  got  into  my  bones  that  your  word- 
smith  was  a  wizard." 
She  laughed. 
"He's  really  an  ordinary  man,"  sh^  said, 


"except  that  he  writes  splendidly.  He  cut 
himself  this  morning  when  he  was  shaving, 
and  I'm  sure  a  wizard  wouldn't  do  that.  He'd 
draw  a  magic  circle,  say  '  Hey,  presto  1 '  and 
his  beard  would  be  gone." 

"I  don't  care,"  he  said.  "The  house  looks 
as  if  it  were  inhabited  by  a  wizard.  Where's 
he  now  ?  " 

"He's  gone  to  London.  He'll  be  away  foi 
the  day." 

"Will  he?     He'll  sure  get  rattled,  then." 

"Oh  I     How's  that?" 

"One  of  the  men  on  the  gun  told  me  as 
I  came  along  there  was  an  air  raid  getting 
up.  In  this  haze,  if  it's  got  half  the  spunk 
of  a  may-bug,  it'll  reach  London." 

"Oh,  the  odds  are  very  much  against  his 
getting  hurt,"  she  said.    "He'll  be  all  right. 


By  Litut.  Howard  Ptnton 

Sentry   (to   Tommy   who    on    his    way    up    to 

the  front  line  is  singing,  "  Garden  of  Eden   just 

made  for  two ") :  "  You're  going  the  wrong  way 

for  that,  mate." 


Page  124 


CANADA     IN    KHAKI 


He'll  probably  be  in  the  Tube  wheh  it 
happens." 

"Yes;  there's  nothing  much  to  worry 
about.  Would  you  be  very  sorry  if  he  got 
killed?" 

"Naturally.     I  like  him  tremendously." 

"Because  he's  himself,  or  because  you 
admire  his  work  ?  " 

"Lately  I've  wondered  about  everything 
connected  with  him,"  she  said.  "I  think  a 
girl  really  admires  most  in  a  man  the  most 
forceful  kind  of  labour." 

"Then  you'd  be  tickled  to  death  by  some 
of  our  gunners  at  the  front,"  he  said.  "They 
move  slices  of  countryside  wilh  one  blow. 
Why  wasn't  I  a  gunner?" 

"Malign  fate,  I  suppose,"  she  said,  pre- 
tending seriousness.  "Is  i<  too  late  to 
change  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  tide  in  my  affairs  has  passed  the 
lood,  as  far  as  this  war  is  concerned.  I  shall 
never  be  a  gunner.  I  couldn't  heave  shells 
bout  now." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry." 

"Still,  I  made  roads  for  the  guns  to  move 
•  'ong.    That  was  something." 

'I  didn't  mean  that.  I  meant  I  was  sorry 
because  of  your  wound." 

"Say,  you  needn't  be.  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  that  I  shouldn't  have  met  you;  and  that 
counts  a  whole  heap  with  me.     Hallo  1 " 

"What?" 

"Here's  the  wordsmith  coming." 

He  'shaded  his  eyes  and  watched  him. 
"He's  about  as  happy  as  a  polar  bear  in  a 
bakehouse.    What's  eating  him  ?  " 

Mollie  stood  at  gaze,  with  her  hand  on  her 
bosom,  breathing  rapidly  through  parted  lips. 

"So-ohl  Then  you  haven't  told  him  you 
know  me?" 

"No,  I  haven't.  He  knows  I  spoke  to  you 
once,  but " 

"Kid,  do  you  mean  you're  afraid  of  that?  " 

"No,  I'm  not  afraid  of  him;  but " 

"By  my  mother's  bones!"  said  Billy 
Winter.  "He'd  better  be  careful,  or  he'll 
get  a  whole  heap  handed  out  to  him  that  he 
can't  carry." 

Telefer  Smaithe  halted  about  twenty  yards 
from  them. 

"Mollie  I"  he  shouted. 


"You're  stone  deaf  and  otherwise  occu- 
pied," said  Winter.  "Can't  he  see  you're 
talking  to  someone  ?  " 

She  hesitated. 

"That's  it,"  he  said  quietly.  "If  he's  got 
to  speak  to  you,  let  him  come  here.  I  don't 
allow  my  friends  to  be  shouted  for." 

"Mollie!  " 

"He's  put  his  manners  away  in  cold 
storage.  I'm  not  used  to  being  interrupted 
by  somebody  shouting  across  the  landscape. 
It  doesn't  go." 

"I  think  I'd  better  go." 

"You  stay  right  here,  dear.  If  that's  how 
he  treats  you,  it's  time  he  learnt  where  he 
belongs  in  creation." 

"I've  never  known  him  to  be  so  rude 
before,"  she  said. 

"And  he  won't  know  himself  to  be  so  rude 
again,"  Winter  snapped. 

Telefer  Smaithe,  finding  that  she  did  not 
reply,  strode  towards  her,  most  evidently  in 
a  very  bad  temper.  Winter  saw  that  she 
trembled  a  little.  She  had  reason.  She  had 
a  humorously  grim  man  beside  her,  and  an 
excitable,  angry  man  coming  towards  her. 

"I  returned  home.  They  told  me  at  the 
station  that  the  air-raid  warning  had  been 
given.     I  decided  to  come  back  and  work." 

"I  see." 

Her  tone  was  as  cold  as  his  own,  and  he 
instantly  changed  his  manner,  sensing  that 
it  would  not  do  this  time,  and  half  realising 
why. 

"May  I  offer  you  the  shelter  of  my  house 
until  this  affair  has  blown  over?"  he  said 
to  Winter.  Then,  without  waiting  for  a 
reply,  he  put  his  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder. 

"Mollie,  you'd  be  safer " 

What  seemed  like  a  mechanical  claw 
closed  about  his  wrist  and  moved  his  arm 
back  to  his  side. 

"That's  where  that  belongs,"  said  Winter, 
with  all  the  snows  of  the  Northern  trapping 
country  in  his  tone.  "As  to  the  raid,  it's 
been  driven. back,  or  we  should  have  heard 
it  by  now." 

"Who  are  you?"  Smaithe  aslced. 

"I'm  a  real  stranger  to  you." 

"Oh!  Well,  whoever  you  are,  you  ougb* 
to    know   better   than    to   behave    as   you're 


:  AN  AD  A    IN    KHAKI 


Page  125 


THE    ROSli    AND    THE    MAPLE    LEAF 


By  Fred  Fegram 


Page  126 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


doing.  Mollie,  where  did  you  meet  this 
man  ?  " 

".She  met  me  right  here,  where  we're  stand- 
ing now,  and  it's  all  of  a  pretty  place.  You're 
her  employer,  aren't  you?" 

"And  her  friend  too." 

"You  don't  say  I  Tell  me,  does  that  make 
you  her  chaperon  ?  " 

"You  see  the  sort  of  person  he  really  is, 
Mollie." 

"She's  had  many  opportunities  of  seeing 
that,"  said  Winter,  "and  I  think  she's  formed 
her  judgment.  What  I'm  asking  you  is 
this  :  Do  you  claim  to  choose  her  friends  for 
her  because  you've  hired  her  to  type  your 
love-mongering  output?" 

"Really,  I  don't " 

"Do  you,  or  don't  you,  claim  that?" 

Telefer  Smaithe  turned  to  Mollie. 

"This  is  becoming   impossible,"   he  said. 


"Surely,  when  you  know  I  want  you,  you're 
not  hesitating  whether  to  send  him  about  his 
business  or  not,  are  you  ?  " 

Mollie's  head  went  up,  and  Winter  saw  it. 
He  caught  her  eye. 

"Mollie,  you  must  choose  now,"  said 
Telefer  Smaithe,  turning  on  the  deep  notes 
to  show  he  was  moved.  "It's  come  to  that. 
Do  you  prefer  this  man,  this  stranger,  to 
me  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer.  She  resented  his 
putting  it  upon  such  a  basis.  The  Canadian, 
for  the  first  time  during  the  interview,  smiled 
— a  broad,  humorous  smile  that  was  more 
chilling,  more  enervating  to  Smaithe  than  the 
grimmest  scowl  could  have  been. 

"See  here,"  said  Winter,  putting  his  hand 
upon  Mollie's  shoulder,  "this  is  where  you 
quit.     You're  not  on  in  this  act." 

And  the  arm  slid  about  her  waist. 


A    CANADIAN 


By  JESSIE    POPE 


Calm-eved,  well-seasoned  to  endure, 
Straight  as  a  sapling,  not  too  tall, 

He  is  the  lad  who  answered,  "Sure  I  " 
When  England  gave  a  call. 


Gay,  but  heroic  to  the  end, 

Fierce  and  unshaken  in  a  "show," 
Loyal  and  solid  as  a  friend, 

A  relentless  foe. 


Easy  in  manner,  self-contained. 
Quick-witted,  picturesque  of  speech ; 

By  risk  or  danger  unrestrained, 
Gripping  his  share  of  each. 


Taking  his  turn  at  many  parts, 
A  soldier  and  a  man  complete — 

He  is  the  lad  who  warms  our  hearts 
And  freezes  Fritz's  feet. 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  129 


By  G.  S.  DixoH 
Affable  British  Tommy:    "Changeable  weather  you  get  here!" 
Canuck :  "  Changeable,  do  you  call  it !     If  it  only  was,  you  bet  we'd  have  changed  it  long  ago." 


THE  CHUMP'S  IDEA 

By  EDWIN    PUGH 


I  DON'T  think  much  of  this  war,"  said  the 
Chump. 

We  call  him  the  Chump  because  his  name 
— beginning  with  Cholmondeley  and  ending 
with  Higgins — is  far  too  gorgeous  for  every- 
day wear  and  tear.  He  is  a  sunny-faced, 
bright-eyed  lad  of  thirteen  or  so,  and  I  am 
one  of  his  favourite  uncles. 

"That  so?"  said  I.  "Well,  I  don't  know 
whether  I'm  sorry  or  glad  to  hear  that  you 
disapprove  of  this  little  European  fuss  we've 


got  mixed  up  in.  At  the  same  time  I  must 
confess  that  I  am  curious  to  know  why  you 
do." 

"It's  so  muddly,"  said  he.  "So  slow  and 
monotonous.  So  deadly  dull.  It  wants  gin- 
gering up.  A  bit  of  excitement.   If  only " 

He  paused. 

"If  only  what?"  I  prompted  him. 

"If  only  it  were  a  cricket-match,"  said  he. 
"On  the  lines  of  England  v.  Australia,  say, 
with   a   thrill   in   every  minute  of   it,  and  a 


Page  130 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


definite  finish  to  look  forward  to  before  you 
were  dead.  England  v.  Germany,  or  The 
Allies  V.  The  Central  Powers,  with  picked 
sides  and  a  shilling  gate,  and  so  on." 

"But  that  wouldn't  be  fair,"  I  objected. 
"  England,  with  her  Colonies,  and  America 
and  India  thrown  in,  have  practically  a 
monopoly  of  cricket.  The  Central  Powers 
wouldn't  stand  an  outside  chance.  And, 
besides,  what  would  our  Allies  be  doing? 
Neither  France,  Italy,  Russia,  Belgium, 
Rumania,  Serbia,  Portugal,  Japan,  nor  any 
other  country  on  our  side  plays  cricket  to  any 
extent  that  I  am  aware  of.  You  must  think 
of  something  else,  Chump." 

"Ah,  you're  so  beastly  literal,"  said  he. 
"I  mentioned  cricket  merely  because  it  came 
first  to  my  mind.  But  it  needn't  be  only 
cricket.  We  could  have  a  regular  Inter- 
national Sports  Carnival.  Sort  of  Olympian 
Games,  don't  you  know,  like  we  had  some 
years  ago,  only  on  a  far  larger  scale.  Do  you 
follow  me  ?  " 

"To  the  final  goal,"  said  I. 

"Yes,  of  course,,  there'd  be  football,"  he 
rejoined.  "Surely  the  Germans  or  the  Hun- 
garians or  somebody  play  a  sort  of  football  ? 
And  even  if  they  didn't  it  would  be  up  to 
them  to  learn  it,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  the  next 
rumpus,  just  as  it  would  be  up  to  us  to  train 
some  of  our  wrestlers  against  those  Terrible 
Turks  and  chaps.  And,  to  pass  from  great 
things  to  small,  there  are  games  like  chess 
and  coddam,  and  dominoes  and  spellicans. 
We'd  have  to  hold  our  own  in  those  as  well. 
And  noughts  and  crosses.  For  all  you  know, 
the  Bulgars  may  be  frightful  swells  at 
noughts  and  crosses." 

"It's  quite  possible,  quite  possible,"  I  ad- 
mitted. "Indeed,  your  idea  simply  bristles 
with  possibilities." 

"Yes,  and  I've  only  given  you  hints  of  it 
up  to  now,"  said  the  Chump.  "If  I  went  into 
details — if  I  laid  the  whole  scheme  before 
you- " 

"I  wish  you  would." 

"If  you  really  mean  that,  I  will.  At  any 
rate,  I'll  do  my  rotten  best." 

I  signified  my  gratification  in  the  usual 
way.  For  some  seconds  there  was  silence 
whilst  the  Chump  brooded  heavily. 


"I  don't  want  anybody  to  think  I'm  try- 
ing to  be  funny,"  he  said,  "or  guying  the 
war  in  any  way.  I  know  it's  jolly  serious, 
and  all  that.  That's  why — in  the  words  of 
the  guv'nor — I  say  once  for  all :  Don't  let  it 
occur  again.  I  want  everybody  to  understand 
that  next  time  there's  an  international  row 
there  needn't  be  any  slaughter.  When  this 
war  is  over  and  peace  is  declared,  let  every- 
body agree  on  a  general  disarmament.  By 
all  means  let  us  go  on  raising  armies,  but  let 
them  be  armies  of  sportsmen.  Every  country 
must  have  some  sport  it's  good  at.  Even 
Germany.  What's  that  cheek-slashing  game 
their  students  go  in  for,  for  instance  ?  " 

"I  forget  the  name  of  it,"  I  replied.  "But 
I  should  say  that's  a  bit  too  Kultured " 

"Yes,  perhaps  we  ought  to  bar  that.  Still, 
there  used  to  be  a  German  Gym.  in  London 
once  upon  a  time,  and  they  couldn't  all  have 
been  duds  there.  So  they  must  be  dabs  at 
something — if  it's  only  sitting  on  a  patent 
walking-stick  and  shooting  pigs.  However, 
we  won't  go  into  minUtias.  We'd  all  have  to 
have  some  sport  of  some  kind — or  go  out.  I 
didn't  mean  to  mention  it  again,  but — there's 
cricket,  to  begin  with.  We  thought  we  British 
could  whack  the  world  at  that — until  India 
gave  us  Ranji.  And  boxing,  which  I  under- 
stand the  ancient  Greeks  invented  and  the 
Romans  improved  upon,  until  somehow  it 
drifted  to  England,  and  for  centuries  we  were 
the  absolute  topnotchers  at  it.  Other  nations 
we  despised — niggers  and  trash  of  that  sort — 
and  especially  Frenchmen.  Until  France 
went  crazy  over  the  game,  and  in  less  than 
no  time  raised  a  champion  who  knocked  our 
own  champion  out,  not  by  a  fluke,  but  twice 
running,  and  each  time  giving  away  tons  of 
weight.  So  you  see,  uncle,  if  every  nation 
took  up  every  kind  of  sport  played  by  every 
other  nation  in  the  world,  and  practised  it 
and  trained  for  it,  tliere  wouldn't  be  any  un- 
fairness, after  all,  when  the  next  war  broke 
out." 

"Your  idea,  then ?" 

"I  am  just  coming  to  it.  We'll  say  war  is 
declared.  Very  well.  There's  a  general 
pow-wow  between  the  heads  of  all  the  nations 
that  can't  somehow  hit  it  any  longer.  They 
draw  up  a  programme.     Each  one  puts  down 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  131 


BAD  BILL  OF  LAME   DOG  GULGH- 


Thought   there  was  nothing   in   the   world   to  equal   his  six-shooter 

t 


-Till  he  found  something  better. 


By  H.  M.  Batfmm. 


Page  132 


CANADA     IX    KHAKI 


the  games  that  his  fellow-countrymen  excel 
in.  It  would  be  a  long  list,  and  it  would 
take  a  long  time  to  get  through  all  the  items. 
But  not  so  long  as  this  war  is  taking.  And  it 
wouldn't  cost  a  farthing  either,  because  the 
gates  would  eas,ily  pay  for  the  expenses.  And 
nobody  would  be  killed,  though  a  few  might 
get  knocked  about  a  bit.  And  the  excite- 
ment I  Just  imagine  the  excitement,  if  you 
can.  Almost  every  five  minutes  there  would 
be  the  '  Latest  Results '  for  the  papers  to 
publish.  Every  day  the  points  would  fluc- 
tuate, just  as  they  do  even  now  in  the  football 
tables.  There'd  be  disputes  and  arguments 
and  bets,  and  all  manner  of  fun.  And  always 
something  to  talk  about,  and  always  some- 
thing to  buck  you  up  instead  of  giving  you 
the  pip.  You'd  always  be  counting  points, 
and  working  out  the  figures  to  the  last  recur- 
ring decimal.  Now  England,  would  be  on 
top,  now  Canada,  now  France,  now  Bonnie 
Scotland,  now  Italy,  now  Japan,  now  Sal- 
vador on  a  foul,  now  England  again,  now 
Italy,  and  then  some  wild  outsider  like  Cam- 
bodia might  butt  in.  And,  I  suppose,  Ger- 
many and  Austria  and  Turkey  and  Bulgaria 


would  be  pegging  away  all  the  time,  and,  if 
they  never  topped  the  list,  be  always  spoiling 
other  nations'  chances. 

"And  when  the  last  game  v^-as  played,  the 
last  goal  kicked,  the  last  wicket  taken,  the 
last  Himalaya  climbed,  and  the  first  of  ten 
thousand  Channel  swimmers  safely  landed, 
then  we  could  tot  up  all  the  totals  and  find 
out  just  where  we  all  were.  And  there 
wouldn't  be  any  win,  tie,  or  wrangle  about  it. 
There  wouldn't  be  any  bad  blood.  We'd  all 
have  scored  at  something  or  other.  We'd 
all  have  our  victories  to  balance  our  defeats. 
We  shouldn't  have  wasted  thousands  of 
millions  of  pounds,  not  to  speak  of  lives. 
We'd  all  have  liad  a  clinking  good  time,  we'd 
all  be  better  friends,  and  keen  for  another  war 
so  as  to  get  our  own  back." 

"And  you  think  that  would  settle  all  our 
racial,  economic  and  political  differences, 
our  trade  disputes,  and  the  rest  of  it, 
Chump?" 

Chump  laughed  me  to  scorn.  "By  the  time 
the  crowd  had  done  clapping,"  said  he, 
"there  wouldn't  be  any  of  that  silly  rot  left  to 
settle." 


THE   CANADIAN    ALPHABET 


A 

is 

B 

is 

C 

is 

D 

is 

E 

is 

F 

is 

G 

is 

H 

1 

is 

I 

is 

J 

is 

for  the  Army  we're  with  Overseas;  K 

for  the  Boys  just  as  busy  as  bees;  L 

for  the  Corps  commanded  by  Currie;  M 

for   the    Deutschers  coming   in   in   a  N 

hurry;  O 

for   Old    England;    we   mean   to   see  P 

through ;  Q 

for  the  Frenchies  who  speak  "Paries-  R 
vous " ; 

for  the  Guns;  how  we  love  their  old  S 

barks !  X 

Headquarters,   which   won't  stand  no  U 

larks.  V 

for  Intelligence,   up  to   Boche  tricks;  W 

for   the    "Junk"   that   sometimes    we  X 

nicks :  Z 


s  for  the  Kamerad,   too  full  of  love; 
is  for  the  Lorries  we  have  to  help  shove ; 
s  for  the  Mud  of  most  evil  repute ; 
s  for  the  N.C.O.,   none  dare  dispute; 
is  for   Officers — wish   'em   good  luck  I 
s  for  Plugstreet  and  Pill-box  and  Pluck; 
s  for  "Quarters"  housewife  in  the  Field; 
is    for    Rupprecht,    whose    fancy   troops 

yield; 

is  for  Srniles,  which  will  never  come  off; 
s  for  the  Tanks,  to  which  we  caps  doff; 
is  for   U  and  the  Maid  and  Occasion ; 

for   Vaterland,    marked   for   invasion ; 
s  for  Wilhelm,  the  Kaiser  so  gory ; 
doesn't  count;  Y  is  Wypers  and  Glory; 
(thank  the  Lord  I)  is  the  end  of  my  story. 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


Page  133 


By  Alfred  Leete 

Canadian  Tommy   (bringing  in  well-fed  prisoner)  :   "Look  'ere.    Bill,   I  believe  I've  copped 

the  Boche  Food  Controller" 


Page  134 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


The  Cat:    "Thank  'evins  I  was  born  in  the  Isle  of  Man!' 


By   W.   Ileafh   Robinson 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  136 


'  I  cannot  be  happy  here — not  even  with  you." 


By  H.  J.  Mawat 


EVERYTHING  OR  NOTHING! 


A  Complete  Story 
By   EDWARD    CECIL 

Illustrated  bg  H.  J.  Mobiat 


PEACE  had  come  suddenly.  There  had 
been  hints  that  it  was  coming  in  Mon- 
day's morning  papers,  broader  hints  in  the 
evening  papers  of  that  day.  The  same  sort 
of  thing  on  Tuesday.  On  Wednesday  the 
French  papers  were  reported  to  have  definitely 
stated  that  Peace  was  only  a 
matter  of  hours.  On  Wednesday 
night  the  evening  papers  sold  in 
hundreds  of  thousands. 

The  first  indication  to  Lon- 
doners that  the  rumours  really 
were  true  was  that  sudden  reap- 
pearance of  the  placards.  The 
Star  and  the  Evening  Neivs  both 
threw  official  regulations  to  the 
winds  with  their  Noon  Edition, 
and  the  rest  of  the  evening  papers, 
with  the  exception  of  the  West- 
minster Gazette,  followed  suit. 

7—11 


"I  really  think  there  must  be  something  in 
it,"  was  a  remark  made  by  thousands  of 
Londoners  that  night  when  they  reached  their 
suburban  homes.  "The  placards  have  come 
out  again." 

The  next  morning,  Thursday,  a  curt  official 
announcement  appeared  in  all  the 
morning  papers.  An  armistice 
had  been  signed,  practically 
simultaneously,  on  all  the  fronts. 
It  was  now  Friday  night.  Save 
for,  perhaps,  a  few  solitary  shep- 
herds in  the  Highlands,  some 
isolated  dwellers  in  very  remote 
parts  of  the  West  of  Ireland,  a 
few  fishermen  still  at  sea,  every- 
one now  knew  that  Peace  had 
come. 

Who  can  describe  the  joy,  the 
wonder,      the     amazement,      the 


Edward  Cecil. 


Pape  136 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


excitement,  which  welcomed  this  sudden  and 
wellnigh  unbelievable  news?  In  Cannon 
Town,  that  district  of  mean  streets,  ware- 
houses and.  factories  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  on 
which  the  suburb  was  built,  people  wellnigh 
lost  their  heads. 

Here  and  there  a  woman's  heart  ached  for 
a  man  whose  body  lay  somewhere  in  France, 
but  whose  spirit  lived,  and  always  would 
live,  somewhere  in  England;  here  and  there 
a  mother's  heart  was  glad  because  her  son's 
life  would  be  standing  no  longer  in  jeopardy 
every  hour.  And  sober  men  and  sober  women 
were  thankful  silently,  in  house  after  house, 
in  street  after  street,  because  now,  at  long  last. 
Victory  had  been  won. 

There  was  a  general  feeling  of  mutual  good 
will.  It  was  not  Christmas  time,  but  a  sort  of 
immensely  magnified  Christmas  feeling  per- 
meated the  minds  of  all. 

In  the  suburb  there  was  the  same  sort  of 
thing  differently  expres^d,  with  this  differ- 
ence— people  were  much  more  self-conscious. 
In  the  suburb  people  did  not  let  themselves 
go.  They  could  not  have  sung  or  shouted  in 
the  streets  had  they  tried.  They  sedately 
talked  to  each  other  in  the  terms  of  the  news- 
paper articles  they  had  read  that  eventful 
Friday  morning.  It  is  astonishing  how  many 
people  there  are  who,  though  they  often  allow 
themselves  to  be  wholly  miserable,  never  per- 
mit themselves  to  be  wholly  glad. 

We  will  now  pass  from  the  general  to  the 
particular,  and  enter  the  home  of  Edward 
Draycott,  Esq.,  East  Indian  Merchant,  of 
Leadenhall  Street,  E.C.,  in  the  City  of 
LondoHi  and  26,  Bessborough  Gardens,  in 
tlie  suburb  which  looked  down  on  Cannon 
Town,  on  the  night  of  the  day  after  the  day 
on  which  the  Great  War  ceased. 


"Pass  the  port,  dad." 

Jack  Draycott  was  expected  to  say  some- 
thing, and  that  was  all  he  said. 

For  the  first  time  since  his  return  home  from 
Canada  to  fight  in  the  War  reference  had 
been  made  to  the  reason  why  he  had  ever  gone 
to  Canada.  And  his  answer  to  the  very 
pointed  opening  was :  "  Pass  the  port,  dad," 
and  for  the  rest — silence. 


Jack  Draycott  had  a  clear-cut  face  and  a 
determined  mouth.  Despite  the  strength  of 
his  face,  however,  his  father  considered  him 
weak.  It  sometimes  happens  that  the 
squarest-jawed  man  is  a  weak  fool,  but  it  also 
sometimes  happens  that  strong  will  gains  for 
its  possessor  the  furious  attacks  of  those  who 
are  not  themselves  strong-willed.  And  one 
of  the  stones  of  abuse  thrown  by  the  weak 
man  is  to  allege  weakness  in  his  superior. 
We  are  always  ready  to  accuse  others  of  the 
faults  we  have  ourselves.  It  is  the  easiest 
short  cut  in  abuse  imaginable. 

Now,  Jack  Draycott  and  his  father  held 
widely  different  opinions  on  many  things. 
Each  thought  the  other  weak.  But  Jack  Dray- 
cott never  said  he  thought  his  father  a  weak 
man,  though,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  he  did. 
On  the  contrary,  Edward  Draycott  had  fre- 
quently expressed  the  opinion,  first  of  all  that 
Canada  would  "strengthen  Jack's  character," 
and  latterly  that  the  War  would.  Edward 
Draycott  belonged  to  that  type  of  man  who 
reckons  himself  to  be  strong  for  no  better 
reason  than  because  he  feels  himself  to  be 
strongly  entrenched  in  a  strong  position. 

"It's  kill  or  cure,"  had  been  Mrs.  Dray- 
cott's  comment,  made  with  wifely  resignation, 
when  Jack  had  been  sent  out  to  Canada.  She 
had  been  brought  up  to  accept  her  husband's 
ruling  in  all  things.  Jack  was  her  favourite 
son,  however,  and  in  her  opinion  there  was 
not  much  fault  in  his  character  to  cure.  She 
used  the  same  words,  "It's  kill  or  cure," 
when  her  husband  talked  pompously  about 
the  strengthening  process  on  a  man's  char- 
acter worked  by  fighting  in  Flanders.  But 
she  then  used  them  bitterly.  As  he  was  now 
sitting  at  his  father's  dinner-table  on  the 
evening  of  the  day  after  Peace  had  come, 
the  two  great  experiences  of  life — Canada  and 
the  War — had  not  killed  Jack.  Had  they 
"cured"  him?  Mrs.  Draycott's  own  private 
opinion  was  that  her  dear  old  boy  remained 
just  exactly  the  "same  as  ever." 

And  now,  almost  the  very  minute  the  War 
was  over — when  he  might  have  observed  a 
decent  interval  before  reviving  topics  decently 
buried  during  the  War — her  dear,  respectable 
husband  had  opened  up  the  past. 

"Did  you  say  you  could  hear  the  shouting 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page   137 


in  Cannon  Town  up 
here,  Herbert?"  he 
asked.  "I'm  afraid 
there  will  be  a  good 
deal  of  drinking  down 
there.  The  public-houses 
ought  to  be  shut  till 
things  are  normal  again. 
Peace  celebrations  will 
become  an  orgy  —  of 
drinking." 

And  he  had  looked 
straight  at  Jack,  and 
Jack  had  looked  straight 
back  at  him.  The  young 
man's  answer,  his 
straight  look  unwaver- 
ing, his  lips  curling  in  a 
smile,  had  been  deadly. 

"Pass  the  port,  dad." 

Reluctantly  and  with- 
out comment  Edward 
Draycott  had  passed  it. 

Jack  had  been  sent  out 
to  Canada  because  he  had 
been  too  fond  of  Cannon 
Town,  even  to  the  extent 
of  falling  in  love  with  a 
remarkably  pretty  girl 
whose  home  was  in  one 
of  the  mean  streets  of  that 
infamous  district  so 
despised  by  the  suburb; 
and  finally,  supremely,  in- 
evitably and  irrevocably, 
because  on  one  never-to- 
be-forgotten  night  he  had 
come  home  drunk. 

"Why,  neither  I  nor 
your  brother  Herbert 
have  ever  been  drunk  in  our  lives  1  "  ex- 
claimed the  outraged  Edward  Draycott  that 
memorable  night.  It  may  be  mentioned  that 
Edward  Draycott  was  vicar's  churchwarden 
at  the  suburb's  parish  church.  Jack  Draycott 
never  went  to  church  at  all  unless  expressly 
asked  by  his  mother  to  do  so. 

"I  am  not — incapable,"  the  poor  boy  had 
protested. 

"No;  but  you  are  drunk." 

"  I  am  nOT — speechless." 


By  Hilda  Cowham 


CAMOUFLAGE 

"Now,  then,  children,  what's  this  animal?" 
"  Please,  teacher,  it's  a  horse   wot's   put   on   a   bathing  suit   to 
deceive  the  Germans." 


"It  would  be  as  well   if  you   were,"  said 
Draycott,  who  was  stupidly  cross  as  well  as 
outraged.     He     had     been     kept     up     late 
"Besides,  don't  argue  with  me." 

So  Jack  had  been  sent  out  to  Canada.  He 
had  made  "some  sort  of  a  start  out  there." 
He  had  come  back  to  the  Old  World  to  fight 
its  battles,  to  make  the  New  World  secure. 
He  had  twice  been  wounded,  once  near 
Ypres  and  once  in  the  great  battle  for  Lille, 
and  now  on  the  day  after  Peace,  he  was  sitting 


Pane  138 

at    his    father's    dinner-table    drinking    his 
second  glass  of  port. 

Facing  him  was  his  brother,  Captain 
Herbert  Draycott,  who  was  always  what  he 
ought  to  be,  and  who,  in  his  military  career, 
had  never  made  a  mistake,  and  had  come 
through  the  War  without  a  scratch.  Facing 
his  father  sat  his  mother,  who,  knowing  what 
Edward  Draycott  had  it  in  his  mind  to  say, 
had  decided  at  the  Peace  Dinner  to  be  "one 
of  the  men." 

"Thank  you,  dad,"  said  Jack,  and. poured 
himself  out  half  a  glass. 

Draycott  smiled.  Jack  smiled  also.  The 
one  reflected  that  his  Bon  knew  what  he  was 
doing.  The  other  reflected  that  his  father 
might  as  well  be  reminded  that  his  son  was  a 
man  and  not  a  boy.  


By  W.  F.  Thomis 
"  Sure,  an'  Oi've  got  the  vurry  horse  for  ye  ; 

come   round  an'  see  him,  sorr.     He's  the  vurry 

patthern  ye  wannt — that  is,  if  yer  honour  doesn't 

object  to  a  '  green '  'un." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  thanks.     I  don't  mind  about 

the  colour." 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 

"  1  quite  agree  with  you,  father,"  said  Cap- 
tain Herbert  Draycott.  "The  public-houses 
ought  to  be  shut." 

"Oh,  let  the  people  have  their  fling,"  said 
Jack  carelessly.  "They  have  waited  long 
enough  for  it." 

"I  don't  think  you  have  ever  realised. 
Jack,"  said  his  father,  "that  it  is  not  always 
wise  to  let  the  people  have  what — for  the 
moment — they  want." 

"Wisdom  depends  on  the  point  of  view," 
returned  Jack  quietly.     "Yours  or  theirs." 

He  was  evidently  able  to  hold  his  own.  He 
knew,  of  course,  that  he  was  one  against  two. 
That  stiffened  him. 

"The  best  of  us,"  observed  the  self-satisfied 
Herbert,  "have  to  think  for  those  who  are 
not  able  to  think  for  themselves." 

Herbert  Draycott  had  some  reason  to  be 
satisfied  with  himself.  He  had  been  taken 
into  his  father's  business  before  the  War  broke 
out.  In  the  first  glory  of  his  khaki  and  his 
commission  he  had  married  the  prettiest  girl 
in  Bessborough  Gardens,  who  was  now  not 
present  with  them  for  the  satisfactory  reason 
that  she  was  now  about  to  become  a  mother 
for  the  second  time.  He  had  come  through 
the  War  without  distinction,  but  without  mis- 
hap, and  he  was  on  the  point  of  returning 
very  comfortably  to  the  profitable  occu- 
pation of  understudying  his  father  in  the 
old  established  business,  Edward  Draycott 
and  Son. 

"You  are  not  qualified  to  express  an 
opinion,  Herbert,"  said  Jack  quite  amiably. 
"A  man  who  has  come  through  the  War  with- 
out spoiling  the  polish  on  his  boots  knows 
precious  little  about  what  people  are  thinking. 
It  sometimes  does  people  good  to  get  what 
they  want.  They  can  then  see  for  themselves 
whether  it  is  really  worth. having." 

"Well,  we've  all  got  what  we  want,"  said 
Mrs.  Draycott  hastily.  "We  all  wanted  Peace; 
and  we've  got  it." 

She  looked  straight  into  her  husband's  face, 
and,  slightly  frowning,  nodded  to  him  to 
speak.     He  took  the  hint. 

"On  this  auspicious  occasion,"  said  Edward 
Dravcott,  "  when  the  War  is  at  last  over,  and 
both  you  boys  are  safe  ...  I  have  some- 
thing to  say." 


C AX. ADA    /.V    KHAKI 


Page  1^9 


THE    BASHFUL    BATHER 
'I  wish  she'd  go  away,  Bert.     What's  the  French  for  'shoo'?' 


By  A.  E.  Hon* 


He  cleared  his  throat.  He  had  prepared 
what  he  intended  saying — to  the  very  words. 
Mrs.  Draycott  smiled  and  nodded.  She 
knew  what  was  coming,  and  she  very  much 
approved.  Jack  felt  an  inclination  to  give 
an  encouraging  "Hear,  hear  I  "  It  was  so 
like  the  first  pause  in  a  speech.  But  he 
checked  his  inclination.     Herbert  smiled. 

"We  have  much  to  be  thankful  for,"  went 
on  Edward  Draycott.  "I  hope  we  are  .  .  . 
thankful !  I  am.  I  propose  to  celebrate 
Peace  in  my  own  way.  I  will  come  at  once 
to  the  point.  I  shall  be  glad,  Jack,  if  you 
will  come  into  the  business.  I  intend  alter- 
ing the  title  of  it  from  '  Edward  Draycott  and 
Son  '  to  '  Edward  Draycott  and  Sons.' " 

He  beamed,  and  Mrs.  Draycott  beamed, 
and  Herbert  Draycott  stretched  out  his  hand 
across  the  table.  Jack  shook  it.  He  could 
not  do  anything  else.  But  there  was  a  lack 
of  warmth  in  the  grip,  and,  ever  so  slightly 


but  perceptibly,  Herbert  felt  he  was 
snubbed.  Then  all  three  of  them  looked  at 
Jack  and  waited.  And  suddenly  all  three  of 
them  became  aware  that  something  was 
going  to  happen. 

Jack  sat  back  in  his  chair,  his  face  serious. 

"I  am  grateful  to  you,  dad,  but  I  wish 
you  had  consulted  me  before  making  this 
sort  of  public  announcement." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  .  .  ."  exclaimed 
Edward  Draycott,  speaking  naturally  in  his 
sheer  amazement. 

Jack  raised  his  hand.  He  commanded  the 
situation. 

"I  suppose  what  you  say  means  that  you 
have  forgiven  me — for  not  being  respectable 
in  the  past,  and  that  you  count  on  my  being 
respectable  in  the  future.  .  .  ." 

"Jack,  dear,  the  past  is  dead  and  buried. 
Why,  the  War  wiped  it  out  I  "  Mrs  Dray- 
cott interrupted  hurriedly. 


Page  140 

"Dearest  mother,  I  don't  want  to  pain 
you,  but  are  you  so  sure  of  that?  I'm  not. 
I  don't  think  the  War  has  altered  the  pater, 
here,  in  the  very  least." 

"The  War  has  had  a  marked  effect  on  all 
of  us,"  said  Edward  Draycott,  sheltering 
himself  behind  a  generality.  Herbert  mut- 
tered something  about  "bad  taste."  Mrs. 
Draycott  was  frightened. 

"But  if  dad  means  that  he  has  really  for- 
given me— I'm  glad.  About  going  into  the 
business,  let's  talk  about  that  to-morrow." 

"I  should  not  take  you  into  the  business 
if  I  had  not  forgiven  you.  .  .  ." 

"There  was  nothing  really  to  forgive. 
Besides,  you've  fought  in  the  War.  .  .  ." 

Husband  and  wife  both  spoke  at  once. 

Jack  said  nothing. 

"Perhaps  Jack  does  not  want  to  come  into 
the  business,"  Herbert  suggested  quietly. 

"You've  hit  it,"  said  Jack.  The  sharp 
sentence  came  like  the  crack  of  a  whip.  "I 
don't." 

"Jackl"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Draycott,  horri- 
fied. 

Edward  Draycott  opened  his  mouth  to 
speak,  but  could  not  think  of  the  right  words. 
Then  he  sighed  and  poured  himself  out 
another  glass  of  port. 

Captain  Herbert  Draycott  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  One  ''can  always  shrug  one's 
shoulders  when  one  does  not  know  what  to 
say. 


Mother  and  son  were  alone  in  the  drawing- 
room  ;  father  and  son  had  gone  into  the  little 
room  which  was  dignified  by  being  called 
the  library. 

"Jack,  dear,  why  are  you  bent  on  annoy- 
ing your  father?  " 

Mrs.  Draycott  sighed.  Life  was  not  alto- 
gether easy  for  her. 

"I'm  not  bent  on  annoying  my  father. 
But  he  and  I  have  such  different  outlooks  on 
life." 

"But  he  is  your  father.  You  should  try 
to  agree  with  him." 

"  How  can  I  ?  He  sent  me  out  to  Canada, 
in  disgrace.  He  made,  as  I  now  see,  quite 
an  absurd  fuss  over  nothing.     Well,   I   got 


CANADA     IN   KHAKI 

to  like  Canada.  I  intend  doing  quite  well 
out  there.  To  put  it  in  a  nutshell,  my  future 
lies  in  Canada.  That's  why  I  do  not  want 
to  go  into  the  business." 

"But,  Jack,  it's  a  good  thing  for  you — to 
go  into  the  business.  Herbert  has  taken  to  it 
splendidly." 

"  It  suits  him ;  it  would  not  suit  me." 
"Why  wouldn't  it  suit  you?" 
"An  office  all  day  long— to  be  taught  by 
my  father  and  patronised  by  Herbert — to 
wear  a  black  coat  and  a  silk  hat — to  have  a 
nice  little  home  like  Herbert's  and  take  ray 
views  of  life  from  a  nice  morning  paper  as  he 
and  the  pater  do.  Mother  mine,  it  wouldn't 
work." 

"You  would  settle  down  to  it  sooner  than 
you  think.  Jack." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  settle  down  to  it!" 
He  stood  there,  a  fine  stalwart  man,  and 
suddenly  he  felt  sorry  for  his  mother,  of 
whom  he  was  very  fond.  She  had  always 
been  so  dominated  by  her  husband  and  his 
respectability.  She  had  never  had  a  fair 
chance.     And  he  could  not  tell  her  so  ! 

There   was   an    awkward  silence   between 
them. 

"Let  me  put  it  this  way,  mother,"  he  said 
at  last.  The  War  has  made  a  difference. 
We've  got  to  hack  out  a  new  world — new 
ideas,  new  everything.  Some  people,  however, 
like  father,  think  it's  just  the  same  old  world, 
same  old  ideas,  same  old  everything.  Her- 
bert's that  type.  He's  quite  content  with  the 
world  as  it  was  before  the  War.  How  could 
he  and  I  and  the  pater  ever  work  together  ?  " 
What  a  boy  he  was  still  I  How  impul- 
sive, how  enthusiastic !  She  loved  him  for 
being  so.  He  was  like  what  she  herself  had 
once  been,  just  as  Herbert  was  like  his 
father. 

"  And  you  like  Canada  ?  "  she  questioned. 
"I  love  Canada." 
-  He  said  this  quite  seriously. 
"And  you  also  love  Muriel  Hetherington  ?" 
She  smiled.    And  behind  her  smile  lay  her 
hope. 

"Yei.     It's  well  known  that  I  do." 
"And  what  does  she  say?" 
"  You  also  know  that.    She  has  said  she  will 
not  be  engaged  to  anyone  till  after  the  War." 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  141 


"  Well,  it's  '  after  the  War  '  now." 

"I  know.    I  hope  to  marry  her." 

"On  what?" 

"I  shall  make  a  place  for  her  in  the  world." 

"In  Canada?" 

"Yes — in  Canada." 

"  Is  she  content  ?  " 

"She  doesn't  think  me  serious.  But  I  shall 
convince  her." 

"Jack,  sit  down,  I've  something  to  tell 
you." 

"If  it's  about  Muriel,  and  it's  unpleasant, 
I  prefer  to  take  it  standing  up." 

"It  need  not  be  unpleasant.  Your  father 
and  I  have  talked  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hethering- 
ton  about  you  and  Muriel.  They  will  consent 
to  her  being  engaged  to  you  if  you  settle  down 
in  the  business.  Otherwise  she  must  stop 
seeing  you.  That  is  one  reason  why  your 
father  consents  to  taking  you  in.  I  persuaded 
him." 


"When  did  this  happen?" 

"Last  Tuesday." 

"And  does  Muriel  know?" 

"Probably  she  does  by  now." 

"Exactly.     I'll  go  and  see  her  at  once." 

Mrs.  Draycott  got  up.  She  put  her  hands 
on  her  son's  shoulders. 

"Jack,  dear,  it's  late;  it's  nearly  ten  o'clock. 
Won't  you  think  things  over?  But  I  do  want 
you  to  be  happy." 

"So  do  I,  mother,  and  I  mean  to  be  happy." 

He  kissed  her  and  went. 

When  Edward  Draycott  and  Herbert 
came  into  the  room  they  found  he  was  not 
there. 

"Where's  Jack?"  Herbert  asked. 

"He  has  gone  over  to  see  Muriel  Hether- 
ington,"  his  mother  answered. 

"A  bit  late,  isn't  it?"  remarked  Edward 
Draycott.     "Where's  the  Times?" 

"Never  too  late  for  lovers,"  said  Herbert 


Steve:  "What  price  the  old  lady,  Jock?' 
Steve :  "  But  what  price  the  young  'un  ?  " 


Jock  :  "  Pretty  awfu' ' 
Jock  :  "  Awfu*  pretty 


By  Tom  CottrM 


Page  148 


CANADA    !N   KHAKI 


"Lemme  see,  you  don't  like  ends,  Percival,  do  you?" 
"Well"  (cuts  cake  in  two),  "me  and  Bill  does." 


••  M«,.,  " 


Naw.' 


lightly.  "I  must  go  now,  or  Ethel  will  be 
wondering  what  has  happened  to  me." 

"Give  her  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Draycott. 

Presently  Edward  Draycott  and  his  wife 
were  sitting  together — the  one  reading  his 
Times,  the  other  nodding  over  a  novel.  Only 
once  did  they  speak. 

"  Do  you  think  she'll  persuade  him  ? " 
asked  Jack's  mother. 

"I  expect  so,"  said  Draycott.  "The 
Hetheringtons  have  brought  up  their  daughter 
very  well,  and  Jack  seems  to  be  fond  of 
her." 


The  Hetheringtons  lived  on  the  other  side 
of  the  suburb,  but  Jack  Draycott,  with  long. 


easy  strides,  made  light  of  the  distance.  He 
heard  sounds  of  street  singing  and  shouting 
coming  up  from  Cannon  Town,  and  he 
noticed  the  new  glare  in  the  sky — London, 
lights  up  !  Peace — ^and  a  day  or  two  ago  it 
had  still  been  War  I 

Well,  Peace  has  her  battles,  just  the  same 
as  War. 

He  had  his  battle.    He  went  straight  to  it. 

By  great  good  luck  he  found  Muriel 
alone. 

"  I  nearly  telephoned  for  you  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, after  he  had  kissed  her,  "when  I 
found  father  and  mother  were  going  out." 

"Why  didn't  you  quite?" 

"I  heard  you  were  having  a  family  Peace 
dinner.     I  thought  perhaps  you  might  walk 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Pace   1-^3 


over  afterwards — of  your  own  accord.  You 
liave.     I'm  glad." 

He  kissed  her  again.* 

"I'm  glad  to  find  you  alone,"  he  said.  "I've 
something  important  to  say.  I'll  say  it  at 
once." 

Of  course,  she  guessed  what  he  was  go- 
ing to  say.  She  was  a  fine-looking,  open- 
air  girl,  and  she  was  -very  fond  of  Jack 
Draycott. 

"Well,  say  it,"  she  commanded.  She  was 
very  happy. 

"I  will.  You  said  you  would  not  be  en- 
gaged to  anyone  till  the  War  was  over,  not 
even  to  me.  Well,  the  War  is  over.  May  I 
take  it  that  our  engagement  now  begins?" 

Her  eyelids  fluttered.  Then  she  looked  up 
bravely. 

"You  may,"  she  said. 

He  kissed  her  for  the  third  time,  and  then 
commanded  her  to  sit  down. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  "for  what  I  have  come 
to  say." 

"Why!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  thought  you 
had  said  it  1  " 

"No.  I  wish  I  had.  But  it's  soon  said.  I 
understand  that  your  father  and  mother  have 
seen  my  father  and  mother,  and  that  they 
have  said  that  they  will  consent  to  your 
being  engaged  to  me  if  my  father  takes  me 
into  his  business.  Well,  to-night  he  has 
offered  to  do  so,  and  I  have  refused  the 
offer." 

"Jack!" 

"I  have  refused  to  go  into  my  father's 
business." 

"Meaning  losing  me  !  " 

"I  did  not  know  at  the  time.  But  even  now 
that  I  do  know,  I  still  refuse.  I  am  going 
back  to  Canada." 

She  looked  at  him,  frightened. 

"And  what  am  I  going  to  do?" 

"Coming  out  to  Canada  with  me." 

"They  would  never  let  me." 

"  They  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  You 
and  I  have  everything  to  do  with  it.  Nobody 
else  has  anything  to  do  with  it.  I  am  go- 
ing back  to  Canada  because  my  future 
lies  in  Canada.  Will  you  share  it  with  me? 
I  can  promise  you  it  will  be  worth  your 
while." 


"But,  Jack,  why  go  out  to  Canada  to  be 
happy  when  we  can  be  happy  here  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  be  happy  here — not  even  with 
you." 

She  pouted.  She  had  the  little  tricks  of  a 
well-brought-up  girl.  But  Jack  Draycott 
knew  she  was  something  better — or  thought 
he  did.    He  loved  her. 

"Listen,  Muriel.  I  was  sent  out  to  Canada 
in  disgrace.  An  absurd  thing  to  do,  I  admit; 
but  my  father  did  it.  Now  you  know  all  the 
story,  because  I've  told  you.  Well,  when  I 
first  got  out  there  they  laughed  at  me.  They 
said  I  was  one  of  the  No-goods  at  home,  how 
could  I  expect  to  be  one  of  the  Some-goods 
out  there?  I  didn't  argue.  I  was  never  a 
No-good  here.  I  was  soon  a  Some-good  out 
there.  Up  in  the  fur  country,  I've  an  open- 
ing.    I'm  going  back  to  it." 

"They  will  never  let  me  go,"  she  said  piti- 
fully.    She  was  near  tears. 

"Don't  ask  them.  I  don't  ask  them  for 
you.    I  ask  you — for  yourself." 

"They  will  never  let  me  go." 

"Muriel — if  you  say  that  again  I  shall  go 
without  you.  I  mean  it.  It  is  you  and  me — 
not  your  parents  and  my  parents.  That  sort 
of  thing  belonged  to  the  old  world,  before  the 
War.  It  is  now  the  new  world,  after  the  War. 
I  want  you.  I  want  no  other  woman  in  the 
world  but  you;  but  from  you  I  want  every- 
thing or  nothing." 

He  was  putting  her  roughly  to  the  test,  but 
he  knew  it  had  to  be  done. 

She  sat  silent. 

"It  will  be  a  rough  life,  perhaps,  at  first. 
But  you  will  be  quite  safe  with  me.  It  will 
be  a  grand  life,  my  life  out  there,  a  free  life ; 
no  chufch-going  every  Sunday  morning, 
no  At-Home  day  once  a  month,  no  heeding 
what  other  people  do,  and  thinking  that  to  be 
right  which  others  tell  you  to  be  right — a  free 
life  instead  of  a  fettered  life — a  life  for  you, 
lived  with  me — giving  me  what  I  ask,  just 
what  I  give  you — everything  or  nothing  If 
I  give  you  everything,  dearest,  my  life  into 
your  hands,  will  you  give  me  everything, 
your  life  into  mine?" 

She  still  sat  silent. 

"You  want  time  to  think?"  he  asked. 
"Take  as  long  as  you  like." 


Page  144 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


"You  are  quite  decided  that  you  are  going 
back  to  Canada  ?  " 

"Quite." 

"Because  you  like  Canada?" 

"Yes." 

"You  want  me  to  come  straight  out  with 
you?" 

"Yes." 

"And  the  life  which  is  good  enough  for 
your  brother  Herbert  is  not  good  enough  for 
you  ?  " 

"No,  Muriel,  it  is  not." 

"Neither  would  it  be  good  enough  for  me." 

"My  Queen!" 

"It  is  with  me  as  it  is  with  you — everything 
or  nothing.  If  you  want  to  go  back  to  Canada 
and  you  want  me,  I  will  come.  As  you  say, 
it  is  simply  you  and  I  who  are  concerned — 
no  one  else  at  all." 


"I  always  knew  you  would  stand  by 
me. 

He  was  triumphant. 

"I  will  try  to  be  good  enough — all  through. 
But  if  ever  I  am  weak,  help  me  to  be  as  brave 
as  you  are." 

"It  is  a  miracle — love  like  mine  and  love 
like  yours  coming  together." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her 
again  and  again.  Not  merely  the  pretty  out- 
side, which  is  all  many  ever  know,  and  which 
soon  gets  soiled  and  worn ;  but  the  very  heart 
of  Love  was  theirs. 


Cheerful  Reinforcement  :    "  Why  do  they 
call  this  junk  '  Bully  '  ?  " 

Dyspeptic  :  "Because  it  ain't." 


*fSiGomi 


mM^^^mammMs^^mmSt^^^^^^ 


By  Tom  ColtreU 
Fond  Granny:  "What  is  it.  Cherub;  can  I  help  you?" 
The  "  Cherub  " :  "  Yes,  Granny ;  get  down  on  your  hands  and  knees — I  want  to  draw  a  tank." 


CANADA    l.\    KHAKI 


Pa^e    141 


By  H.  P.  Jcnntr 

Photographer :  "  Of  course,  sir,  you  can  hassume  any  expression  you  please,  but  I  might 
mention  that  at  the  present  moment  the  fashionable  thing  among  the  hupper  classes  is  to  look 
'ungry." 


THE  POP-GUN   PATRIOT 

By   LEONARD    CROCOMBE 


THE  guard's  whistle  shrilled.  I  heard  a 
hoarse  "Stand  away,  there,  sir!"  Then 
the  door  of  the  compartment  was  flung  open 
and  a  little,  fat,  round  man  flopped  in. 

He  perched  on  the  edge  of  the  seat  like 
a  perky  cock  sparrow,  and  mopped  the 
shining  pinkness  of  his  bald  forehead  with  a 
large  handkerchief.  Then  he  rearranged  his 
tie,  brushed  his  coat-sleeve  over  his  silk  hat, 
flicked  a  speck  of  dust  from  a  white  spat,  and 
settled  his  pince-nez  almost  on  the  tip  of  his 
pcxigy  nose. 


He  then  coughed,  looked  across  the  carri- 
age at  me  and  ejaculated  :  "  Bless  my  soul  1 
It's  a  first  I  " 

.My  mild  surprise  must  have  been  apparent, 
for  the  pink  and  corpulent  individual  put  his 
chin  inside  his  collar  and  glared  at  me  fiercely 
over  the  tops  of  his  glasses. 

"I  find  that  I  have  inadvertently  entered 
a  first-class  compartment,  sir,"  he  exclaimed. 
"And  it  is  not  my  habit,  sir,  I  may  say  that 
it  is  against  my  Principles  in  this  time  of 
my  Country's  stress,   to  enjoy  the — er — un- 


Page  146 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


necessary  luxury  of  first-class  travel.  I  de- 
termined, as  an  Example,  sir,  to  the  thought- 
less, to  become  a  Third-class  Passenger  im- 
mediately on  the  outbreak  of  the  War.  That 
is  ten  months  ago,  and  this  is  the  first  time, 
sir,  that  I  have  broken  my — er — vow." 

I  inclined  my  head  to  signify  my  perfect 
sympathy  with  the  little  man.  "You  are  a 
true  patriot,  sir,"  I  murmured. 

"  And  who  is  not,  sir  ?  "  he  thundered,  with 
an  excited  rustle  of  his  morning  paper.  "By 
gad  !  sir,  I  see  Red  every  time  I  open  the 
confounded  newspaper." 

"That  must  be  inconvenient." 

"Inconvenient,  sir  1  It's  my  natural  feel- 
ings that  get  the  better  of  a  True-born  Briton, 
sir ;  a  True-born  Briton  who's  not  been  accus- 
tomed to  standing  any  nonsense  from  any 
damned  foreigners,  sir.  No  !  Gad  !  if  I  were 
only  ten  years  younger !  Ten  years  I  I'd 
set  the  young  slackers  an  example." 

His  eye  presumably  caught  a  headline  in 
his  paper,  for  he  added  fiercely:  "The  best 
thing  about  the  Germans,  sir,  is  their  Mili- 
tarism. We  need  a  System  like  theirs,  that 
instils  all  the  Great  National  Virtues — stern 
^'atriotism,  unflinching  Discipline,  blind 
Courage,  unhesitating  Devotion  to  the  Flag 
and  implicit  Obedience  to  Superiors  1  That's 
what  this  Nation  wants,  sir  1  " 

And  that  was  my  first  introduction  to  Mr. 
Peter  Poddigrew. 

I  met  him  a  few  mornings  later  on  the 
station  platform,  and  we  exchanged  formal 
greetings.  Then,  entangling  me  in  his 
wordy  barbed  wire,  he  insisted  on  my  journey- 
ing to  town  with  him. 

Although  I  don't  suppose  I  managed  more 
than  a  dozen  words  during  the  journey,  be- 
fore we  parted  Mr.  Peter  Poddigrew  (he  had 
already  insisted  on  an  exchange  of  cards) 
complimented  me  on  my  "conversation." 
"It's  seldom,  sir,  that  I  meet  a  Man  with 
whom  I  so  thoroughly  Agree.  Come  and 
dine  with  me,  sir,  to-morrow  night.  I  shall 
expect  you.    I  insist." 

Urgent  business  calling  me  from  town,  1 
was  glad  to  be  able  to  wire  Mr.  Poddigrew 
my  regrets. 

I  did  not  see  him  again  for  about  six 
months.     Then   I  met  him  one  morning  at 


the  station,  and  was  unable  to  avoid  him. 
He  showed  his  gratification  at  the  renewal  of 
our  acquaintanceship  by  making  a  speech  at 
me  which  lasted  practically  the  whole  journey 
citywards.  The  main  theme  of  his  discourse 
that  morning  was  the  special  duty  of  every 
young  man  to  take  unto  himself  a  wife 
("not  one  of  your  damned  pampered,  de- 
generate, fashionable  hussies,  sir,  but  a 
Healthy,  Sensible  Woman  capable  of  bear- 
ing at.  least  four  or  five  children  I  "),  and 
hasten  to  shoulder  the  responsibilities  of 
fatherhood,  "for  the  Good  of  the  State,  sir, 
to  the  Glory  of  the  Flag." 

I  gathered,  by  the  way,  that  he,  was  a 
widower  with  one  young  daughter,  an  only 
child,  who  house-kept  for  him. 

A  month  later  I  was  knocking  at  the  door 
of  Mr.  Peter  Poddigrew's  villa  in  Surbiton's 
most  select  corner.  I  was  admitted  by  a 
smart  young  manservant  into  a  well-appointed 
hall,  in  which  a  picture  of  a  bloody  hand-to- 
hand  battle,  draped  with  a  Union  Jack,  had 
a  conspicuous  place. 

As  I  handed  my  hat  and  coat  to  the  man 
I  wondered,  for  the  twentieth  time,  what  had 
induced  me  to  accept  Poddigrew's  pressing 
invitation.  The  man  was  a  complete  bore. 
He  jarred  horribly  on  my  nerves.  Still,  at 
the  same  time,  I  felt  an  interest  in  him  as  a 
"type." 

My  hostess  was  standing  before  a  cheerful 
fire  in  the  drawing-room.  My  first  quick 
impression  of  her  was  gold  and  pink.  She 
was  a  slim,  pretty  girl  of  about  eighteen  or 
nineteen,  and  welcomed  me  gracefully,  if  a 
trifle  shyly.  We  had  scarcely  exchanged  a 
couple  of  sentences  before  her  father  bounced 
and  bustled  overpoweringly  into  the  room. 
From  then  on  he  monopolised  the  talk  until 
dinner  was  announced.  I  let  him  rattle  on, 
feeling  in  no  mood  myself  for  conversational 
competition. 

The  table  entertainment,  so  far  as  I  was 
concerned,  was  not  a  great  success.  The 
menu  was  over-ample  and  unimaginative. 
The  wines  were  good.  The  daughter — her 
name  was  Daphne — was  pleasantly  mannered, 
but  with  little  conversation.  She  appeared  to 
be  in  a  perpetual  state  of  acquiescence.  "I 
agree  entirely,"  she  would  say,  opening  wide 


-T-r- 


YOUNG   MAY 

Up  to  date  from  her  curls 
to  her  toes 

Undisturbed  by  the 
weaiher  she  goes — 

In    a    snug    "trencher" 
coat 

And   with    furs   at    her 
throat- 
young   May   doesn't   care 
if  it  snows. 

But,  when  snow  clouds 
are  swept  from  the 
skies. 

Up  yonder  she  raises  her 
eyes/ 

To     the    stars     in    the 
west 

Her  secret's  confessed— 

Keep      my     soldier      in 
safety,"  she  sighs. 


ICIC 


TT 


301 


By  MacMlchael 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page   147 


her  china-blue  eyes;  or  else,  "I  qutte  see  what 
you  mean,"  or  "I  can't  think  why  people 
won't  see  that." 

Then,  suddenly,  my  interest  in  her  quick- 
ened.   I  scented  romance. 

Poddigrew  (confound  him  I)  had  been  hold- 
ing forth  again  on  "Duty  to  the  State,"  the 
"wickedly  declining  birth-rate"  (whereat 
Daphne  had  blushed  quite  in  the  approved 
English  and  maidenly  manner),  "the  curse  of 
selfishness,  sir,"  and  the  urgent  need  for 
every  young  man — it  was  always  the  young 
man  with  Poddigrew — to  marry,  whatever  his 
circumstances,  and  rear  numerous  offspring 
"on  Principle." 

"I  know  a  young  Canadian,"  I  said,  as 
Poddigrew  paused  to  sip  his  Burgundy,  "who 
holds  your  views  on  that  subject.  He  was 
telling  me  so  rather  forcibly  the  other  day. 
He's  an  engineer  in  civil  life,  quite  success- 
ful, and " 

Here  Daphne  dropped  her  fork,  and  I  saw 
that  her  face  had  suddenly  assumed  a  rosier 
hue.    Poddigrew  glared. 

I  continued:  "This  young  Canadian  is  a 
man  after  your  own  heart.  He  believes  sin- 
cerely that  everything  in  one's  life  should 
be  considered  primarily  in  its  relation  to  the 
State,  to  the  Empire;  that  individual  am- 
bition and  desire  should  be  subservient  to  that 
ideal." 

"Fine,  sir,  fine  1  "  cried  Poddigrew.  "I'd 
like  to  meet  that  young  man.  That's  the 
Spirit  we  want.    Buskin,  fill  up  the  glasses." 

"My  Canadian  friend  sacrificed  his  busi- 
ness and  something  like  a  thousand  a  year  to 
join  up  immediately  war  was  declared.  He 
came  over,  too,  with  the  avowed  intention  of 
marrying  a  British  g'rl,  and  taking  her  back 
to  Canada  with  him.  Well,  about  a  couple 
of  months  ago  he  met  his  ideal,  so  he  tells 
me.  She  is  a  beautiful — and,  I  believe, 
he  added,  thoroughly  healthy  and  suitable — 
young  English  girl.  He  fell  in  love 
with  her." 

"  And  they  are  married  ?  "  asked  Poddigrew 
eagerly. 

"No.  The  girl's  father  objects  to  my  Cana- 
dian friend.  He  objects  so  strongly,  although 
his  daughter's  affections  are  centred  on  the 
fellow,  that  he  won't  even  allow  him  to  call 


at  the  house  to  discuss  matters.  Up  to  now 
they  have  only  exchanged  letters." 

"The  man's  a  fool,  sir,  a  fool  1  " 

"Yes.  He  said  he  wasn't  going  to  have  his 
daughter  carted  away  into  the  '  wilds.'  I 
understand  that  the  suitor  pointed  out  in  his 
letters  that,  quite  apart  from  the  fact  that  they 
love  each  other,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  father  to 
permit  his  daughter  to  marry  the  man  of  her 
choice,  especially  as  he  is  going  to  take  her 
to  another  part  of  the  Empire  where  women 
and  children  are  wanted  more  than  here.  He 
also  explained,  during  the  course  of  the  corre- 
spondence, that  it  is  for  the  good  of  the  Em- 
pire that  they  should  marry  and  rear  healthy 
children." 

"And  quite  right  too,  sir.     In  my  opinion 

"     Poddigrew  broke  off  with  a  gesture 

of  irritation  as  his  daughter  suddenly  pushed 
back  her  chair. 

"I  think  I'll  leave  you,"  she  said  quietly. 
I  looked  at  hor,  but  she  did  not  meet  my  eyes. 
I  noted  that  her  cheeks  had  grown  paler. 
"You'll  come  into  the  drawing-room  later, 
won't  you  ?  "  she  added. 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear  !  "  Her  father  answered 
her,  a  trifle  testily  I  thought.  Then  he  turned 
to  me,  and  volleyed  forth  a  verbal  barrage 
through  which  I  did  not  attempt  to  penetrate. 

Later  I  spent  an  equally  uninspiring  half- 
hour  or  so  in  the  drawing-room.  Daphne, 
conversationally  bankrupt — I  was  really  sorry 
for  the  poor  child  now,  for  she  seemed  to  be 
flustered  and  overpowered  by  her  father's  un- 
quenchable rhetoric — turned  to  the  piano, 
almost,  it  seemed,  in  self-defence.  She  sang 
one  of  the  Indian  Love  Lyrics — "Less  than 
the  Dust,"  I  think  it  was — in  a  pretty  but 
uninspired  voice. 

I  had  come  to  the  definite  conclusion  that 
something  was  troubling  her.  I  decided  that 
she  was  in  fear  of  her  father,  and  that  he  w.t; 
something  of  a  tyrant  towards  her. 

Suddenly,  as  I  stooped  to  turn  a  page  of 
music  for  her — she  had  finished  singing — shp 
whispered  :  "Is  his  name  John  Vane?  " 

I  believe  I  started.  But  lurk-ily  her  father 
could  have  noticed  nothing.  He  was  turninc: 
over  the  pages  of  a  monthly  review. 

She  continued  playing.  I  whispered  my 
reply:  "Yes!" 


Page  148 

She  had  mentioned  the  name  of  my  Cana- 
dian friend.  I  wondered.  So  this  was  the 
girl.  And  Poddigrew— Poddigrew  the  Super- 
Patriot,  the  all-for-the-State  merchant— it  was 
he  who,  in  one  of  his  ridiculous  letters,  had 
called  Vane  "an  opinionated  young  cub!" 
Poddigrew,  who  "saw  red  "  where  others  were 
concerned,  sang  a  different  tune  when  it  was 
a  matter  of  personal  inconvenience,  to  the 
extent  even  of  refusing  his  daughter  to  the 
man  she  loves  I 

Just  as  I  was  leaving,  Poddigrew  said  :  "By 
the  way,  I  wonder  if  you  would  bring  your 
Cai>adian  friend  along  one  evening?  I'd  like 
to  have  a  talk  with  him  !  " 

I  was  shaking  hands  with  Daphne  at  the 
moment.  She  smiled  at  me  meaningly.  I 
turned  to  her  father.  "Of  course,"  I  answered; 
"I'll  bring  him  whenever  it's  convenient  to 
you.  He'll  be  delighted.  He  knows  very  few 
people  in  England." 

"Wednesday  night,  then,"  said  Poddigrew 
breezily.  "Seven-thirty  sharp.  I'll  expect 
you." 

"Thanks.-  You  and  he  will  have  a  chance 
of  exchanging  ideas  on  the  subject  which 
seems  to  burn  with  almost  equal  intensity  in 
the  breasts  of  both  of  you." 

I  laughed  and  turned  again  to  Daphne.  I'll 
swear  she  was  hiding  a  smile  behind  that 
ridiculously  small  handkerchief. 

And  thus  it  came  about.  I  fixed  it  all  up 
with  Vane.  He  was  boyishly  enthusiastic 
over  the  scheme.  "One'  thing's  sure,"  he 
said  boisterously,  "I'll  be  an  engaged  man — 
a  real  finance — before  we  leave  that  Pop-Gun 
Patriot's  shanty.  We'll  make  Mister  Peter 
Poddigrew  sit  up  all  right  1  " 

We  did,  too. 

When  Vane  and  I  were  shown  into  the 
drawing-room,  Poddigrew  was  standing  be- 
fore the  fire.  Daphne  was  not  with  him.  I 
introduced  Vane  as  "Corporal  Smith."  Pod- 
digrew welcomed  him  cordially,  and  at  once 
opened  fire  :  "I've  heard  a  lot  about  you,  sir ! 
You're  the  kind  of  Man  I  like  to  meet." 


CANADA     y.V    KHAKI 

So  he  continued,  in  the  strain  of  one  ap- 
pointed by  the  gods  to  be  Higl?  Priest  of 
State  and  Expositor  Extraordinary  of  Im- 
perial Principles,  emphasising  his  trite  re- 
marks with  blows  of  his  fat  fists.  Vane 
listened  and  agreed  to  all  his  drivel  without 
the  suspicion  of  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  Then 
Daphne  entered  the  room.  The  stage  has  lost 
a  promising  actress  in  that  girl.  She  didn't 
so  much  as  blush  as  her  father  presented 
"Corporal  Smith." 

The  inevitable  topic  cropped  up  soon  after 
Daphne  came  in,  and  provided  Vane  with  the 
opportunity  he'd  been  angling  for. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  seem  impertinent,  sir," 
Poddigrew  said,  "but  I  have  been  given  to 
understand  that  you  have  been  abominably 
treated  by  some  unpatriotic  devil  who  doesn't 
see  things  as  we  do.  I  need  not  assure  you 
of  my  Sympathy,  sir.  I  agree,  as  you  see, 
entirely  with  your  High  Ideals.  It  is  every 
man's  Duty  to  the  Empire  to  marry  the 
Woman  of  his  Choice,  just  as  soon  as  ever  he 
can,  and  for  them  to  rear  children  who  shall 
grow  up  to  be  of  Service  to  the  State.  Every 
young  man  worthy  of  our  Glorious  Empire 
should  be  Ready  and  Eager  to  shoulder  the 
Responsibilities  of  Fatherhood  with  the  Rifle 
and  defend  our " 

Vane  strode  quickly  to  Daphne's  side,  and 
put  his  arm  round  her  shoulders,  without 
taking  his  eyes  from  Poddigrew's  face. 
"Then  why  the — why,  may  I  ask,  do  you  re- 
fuse to  allow  me  to  marry  your  daughter  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

Poddigrew  gasped ;  and  then  his  jaw 
dropped.  He  stared,  first  at  Daphne  and 
Vane,  and  then  at  me,  while  his  face 
purpled. 

"Why— why !"  he  spluttered  at  last, 

showing  symptoms  of  apoplexy.  "Well,  I'm 
— but,  confound  you,  sir — well,  of  all  the 
damned  young  blackguards! "  .  .  . 

That  dinner  party  was  a  great  success.  But 
Poddigrew,  strangely  enough,  left  most  of  the 
talking  to  his  future  son-in-law. 


HIS  CONSTANT   COMPANION 


Bu    II.   Viffun 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page   149 


ON  RECEIVING  A   PIPE  FROM   AN 
ANONYMOUS   DONOR 


By  "  R.M.E." 

Illustrated  bg  Dudlep  Hardp, 


Dear  daughter  of  the  Empire,  you 
Who  drew  a  dollar  from  your  purse, 

Purchased  a  pipe — a  beauty,  too — 
And  mailed  it  'cross  a  universe 

To  reach  some  lonely  soldier's  hands; 

I  have  it — one  who  understands. 


No  introduct'ry  card  it 
bears, 
This  welcome  friend 
from  overseas; 

It  just  arrives,  pot-luck 
it  shares. 
With   my  surround- 
ings it  agrees. 

And  you  who  sent  it, 
you're  a  dear, 

Part   of    our   priceless 
atmosphere. 

Unknowingly,  and  all 

unwrit, 
They  sign  a  pact  that 

lasts  the  years — 
The  sender  of  the  gift, 

to  wit, 
The  man  whose  awk- 

ward    hours    it 

cheers, 
And    last    the    happy, 

honest  bowl. 
The  symbol  of  a  con- 
stant soul. 


"It  just  arrives,  pot-luck  it  shares" 


I  fill  your  gift  with  Honey  Dew, 
And  Golden  Flake,  and  'Arf-a-Mo, 

A  hundred  times,  and  oft  of  you 
I  think  as  quiv'ring  rings  I  blow; 

And  framed  in  some  of  them  I  see 

The  kind  of  woman  you  must  be. 


Tis  pity  that  you  did 

not  give 
Some   tiny  clue  to 

trace  you  by; 
But  I've  a  notion  where 

you  live. 
Even  a  name  for  you 

have  I. 
And  whether  you're  a 

miss  or  ma'am, 
I've  got  ideas — but  I'm 

a  clam  ! 

Countless  the  chances 

are  to  one 
That  e'er  I'll  see  you 

in  the  flesh. 
Are  you  a  flapper  full 

of  fun. 
Or  twenty-four  with 

roses  fresh  ? 
Are    you    kind    sixty, 

sweet  sixteen, 
Or    some    "just-nice" 

age  in  between  ? 


'Tis  good  to  love  one  woman  well. 
To  own  one  dog,  to  trust  one  chum  ; 

But  when  they  play  you  false,  farewell 
To  your  life's  equilibrium.      * 

Fidelity,  thy  prototype. 

Is  just  an  ordinary  pipe  I 


I  and  my  fancy  have  a  bet 
That  after  dinner,  on  the  sly. 

You're  not  above  a  cigarette, 
Or,  I  can  see  you  standing  by 

Lighting  some  lucky  man's  cigar. 

That's  the  good  sort  1  think  you  arc. 


Page  IBO 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


]  Madge:  "Why's  that  soldier  got  two  horses?" 
Harold  (the  encyclopsedia) :  "That's  'cos  if  one  was  punctured.' 


By  D.  U  Ghilchih 


P'raps  he's  your  father,  p'raps  your  son,  The  man  who  fills  his  briar-bowl 
(Impertinence  to  speculate  !)  And  seeks  alone  the  nearest  nook, 

P'raps  he's  the  only,  only  one  His  love,  his  gratitude,  the  whole 
You've  sworn  to  love  or  tolerate;  Of  all  the  virtues  in  his  Book, 

But,  if  your  heart's  yours  to  bestow,  Creep  to  him  there  to  wait  their  chance. 

You'll  choose  a  smoker— that,  I  know  !  The  whims  of  his  extravagance. 


Ah,     'twere     relief    to 

wring  the  hands 
Supremely  dear  that 

knits  me  socks 
And  wrap  them  round 

all  kinds  of  brands 
Of    th  i  n  gs    to    eat 

packed  in  a  box ; 
Yet  to  a  really  lonely 

bloke 
The   choicest  gifts   go 

up  in  smnkp  I 


"The  choicest   gifiv  ft.,   up  in  smoke" 


So  when   in   my  dug- 
out I  sit 
And  puflf,  and  puff, 
my  thanks  to  you ; 

You've  done  a  trifle  to- 
wards your  bit. 
Dear  daughter  of  the 
Empire,  who 

Of    my   poor   musings 
fugitive 

Have  won  the  kindest 
I  can  give. 


^    VAX  ADA  IX  KHAKI 


Page  151 


"RATS!" 

Canadian:     "I   don't  believe  Mac  knows  what  a  moose  is." 

Mac:     "Awa"  wi'  yel      Ah  ken  fine,  ye  catch  'em  in  tr-r-r-aps  wi'  cheese." 


By  Atf  Pearsa 


Parte  152 


CANADA  IX  KHAKI 


CANADIANS  USE  THE  PLOUGH  FOR  CUTTING  RAILWAY  TRACKS 


Light  Railway  construction  troops  ploughing  up  the  earth  which  the  drag  "scrapers,"  drawn 

by  mules,  carry  away  for  "dumping" 


"Scraper"    gathering  its  load 


'Scraper"  dumping  its  haul 

Canadian   Official  Photographs 


\ 


CAXADA   l\    KHAKI 


P<i(je  153 


CANADA'S  STEEL-THROATED  VOICE 


One  of  the  great  guns  with  its  tackle  employed  in  pounding  Hill  70 


Ihe   gun's   crew   find    their  stern  work  congenial 


Canadian  Official  Photographs 


Page  154 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


CANADIANS  ARE  AS  FOND  OF  SPORT  AS  THEY  ARE  OF  FIGHTING 


Wrestling  on  horses — both  men  and   steeds  bareback — is  welcome  excitement 


ftV^':    ■>• 


The  "Canuck"  must  have  his  baseball  game  even  if  he  is  under  fire 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


r.l.V.l/>.'l  IX  KllAKI 


Page  155 


"BUT  THINGS  LIKE  THIS  YOU  KNOW  MUST  BE' 


Canadians  and  Hun  prisoners  fare  alike  when  hors  de  combat 


A  survivor  of  Vimy  Ridge 


Carried  in  from  battle 

Canadian  Official  Photographs 


Page  156 


CANADA  IN  KHAKI 


By  H.  J.  Mowiit 


THE  SNIPERS 


The  black  night  formed  a  murky  lid 
To  the  flame-ringed  edge  of  hell; 

The  tortured  silence  screamed  beneath 
The  withering   lash  of  shell. 

The  sniper,  at  his  frozen  post, 

Swore  hard  as  he  crouched  there  low; 

Fire  from  the  furnace  of  his  eyes 
Blazed  a  red  trail  through  the  snow. 


He  found  the  shadow  that  he  sought; 

It  deepened;  and  then  was  still. 
He  jammed  his  rifle  to  his  cheek — 

Death  hovered  near,  at  his  will. 

Two  shots  were  wedded  in  one  crash  .  .  , 
Two  snipers  had  killed — and  died. 

Thus  did  the  cruel  hand  of  War 
Gather  two  victims  side  by  side. 


IE 


azz^azE^izE 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  157 


SOLDIERS  ! 

By  J.  E.  SIME 

(Author  of  "Canada  Chap*") 


TIME.— Any  Year  in  the  Great  War. 
PLACE.— A  Real  Live  Room— with  a  Real 

Live  Birch  Tree  just  outside  the 

Window. 
PEOPLE.— Ian. 

Ian's  Mother. 

A  Neat  Tablemaid. 

Lots  of  Tin  Soldiers. 

IT  is  not  a  dining-room,  nor  yet  a  drawing- 
room,  nor  is  it  a  study.  It  is  neither 
ticketed  nor  labelled.  It  is  a  room  to  be  alive 
in ;  you  can  call  it  by  any  name  you  choose. 

Close  outside  the  window  is  a  birch — a  cut- 
leaf  birch — just  coming  into  leaf.  Exquisite 
it  stands  there,  delicate,  drooping,  fragile  to 
look  at,  and  yet  strong.  Winter  is  behind  it, 
summer  before  it.  The  green  haze  of  coming 
leaf  seems  to  deepen  as  you  look  ;  it  is  spring- 
time in  Canada.  And  the  sun  comes  glinting 
through  the  branches  and  gleaming  through 
the  window,  and  it  falls  on  a  small  boy  (who 
will  be  a  big  one  before  you  can  turn  round) 
on  the  floor  with  his  regiments  and  regiments 
of  tin  soldiers  ranged  all  ready  for  battle  in 
front  of  him. 

His  mother  sits  at  the  window  knitting. 
Sometimes  she  looks  at  the  birch,  and  she 
smiles  as  she  looks  at  it — and  she  might  be  a 
Japanese  woman  smiling  at  the  cherry  blos- 
som. And  sometimes  she  looks  at  the  boy 
at  her  feet,  and  her  eyes  grow  large  and  soft. 
And  then  she  might  be  the  Japanese  woman 
looking  at  her  boy  lying  on  the  ground  close 
beside  her. 

They  are  silent.  The  boy  is  intent  on  his 
soldiers,  the  mother  is  intent  on  her  thoughts. 
Her  thoughts  are  of  soldiers  too — not  made 
of  tin. 

Ian.  [Placing  the  last  soldier  to  his  satis- 
faction.]   Mother,  could  I  have  a  khaki  suit? 

Ian's  Mother.  [With  a  start.]  What  for, 
Ian? 

S— II  ' 


Ian.  Oh,  so's  I  can  pretend  I'm  going 
fighting. 

Ian's  Mother.    Wait  a  bit,  boy. 

Ian.    [Persuasive.]    Can't  I,  mother,  then? 

Ian's  Mother.  Wait,  Ian,  till  you  can  have 
the  real  thing. 

Ian.    But  that's  such  a  long  time  to  wait. 

Ian's  Mother.     It'll  come.     Wait  a  bit. 

Ian.  [After  a  second.]  Mother,  don't  you 
•want  me  to  go  fighting  ?- 

Ian's  Mother.  [Dropping  her  knitting  and 
looking  at  him.]    I  do — and  I  don't. 

Ian.  [Trying  as  all  of  us  boys  and  girls  do 
to  get  round  enigmas.]    Why  ? 

Ian's  Mother.  [Taking  up  her  knitting 
again.]     I'm  afraid  I  can't  explain. 

Ian.  [Perceptive — aggrieved.]  You  mean 
I  couldn't  understand !  That's  what  you 
mean  when  you  say  that. 

Ian's  Mother.  [Smiling.]  Well,  perhaps  a 
little  ! 

Ian.    [Looking  up  at  her.]    But  I  could. 

Ian's  Mother.    You  wait  a  bit. 

Ian.  [This  last  straw  breaking  his  back.] 
That's  what  you  always  say.  That's  what 
everyone  keeps  saying.  I'm  so  tired  of  hear- 
ing that ! 

Ian's  Mother.  [Realising  the  reasonable- 
ness of  this]    Ian,  if  I  could  explain 

Ian.    [Eagerly.]    Try,  mother. 

Ian's  Mother.     [Doubtfully.]    Well 

Ian.  [Feeling  that  he  has  a  reputation  to 
keep  up — most  anxious  to  prove  that  he  can 
understand.]    Well? 

Ian's  Mother.  It's  this  way,  then.  You 
see,  dad's  gone. 

Ian.  [Proiidly  touching  the  Commanding 
Officer  in  Tin.]     Yes,  I  know.     That's  him. 

Ian's  Mother.  It  was  bad  enough  to  let 
him  go.  [She  hesitates,  dropping  her  knit- 
ting.] Ian,  if  you'd  been  big,  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  have  done. 

Ian.    [Disposing  of  that.]    You'd  have  said 


Page  168 


CANADA    IN   KHAKI 


Good-bye.     [Touching  the  tallest  Private  tn 
the  front  row.]    That's  me. 

lan's  Mother.  [Involuntarily.]  Oh,  that's 
a  dangerous  place ! 

Ian.    [Immovable.]    It's  me. 

lan's  Mother.  [Bending  forward  and  re- 
moving the  soldier  in  the  front  row  to  the  last 
back  corner  place.]  That's  where  I'd  rather 
have  you. 

Ian.  [Outraged — snatching  up  the  soldier 
and  restoring  him  to  his  old  place.]  What — 
have  me  in  the  back  of  everything !  You 
wouldn't,  mother. 

Jan's  Mother.  [Looking  at  him.]  Ian,  if 
you  got  killed 

Ian.  [Explanatory.]  I'm  one  of  the  Five 
Hundred.    They  got  killed  ! 

lan's  Mother.  Oh,  but  we  don't  hear  any- 
thing of  the  Five  Hundred's  mothers ! 

Ian.    [Indifferently.]    Mothers  don't  fight. 

lan's  Mother.  No,  but  they  give  their  sons 
to  fight. 

Ian.  [Who  has  never  thought  of  the  matter 
just  this  way.]    Do  you  give  us,  mother? 

lan's  Mother.  Yes,  we  give  you,  Ian. 
[She  hesitates  again,  and  then  decides  to 
speak.]  Ian,  it's  a  lot  of  trouble  to  make  a 
man  you  know. 

Ian.  [Uninterested.]  Paying  for  school 
and  clothes  and  things,  you  mean. 

lan's  Mother.  Yes — and  IcSts  of  other 
things.  You  see,  you're  fond  of  all  those 
soldiers,  aren't  you?  Why,  you've  spent  the 
whole  afternoon  drilling  and  placing  them. 

Ian.  [Defensively — foreseeing  possible 
critical  suggestions  as  to  more  profitable  ways 
of  spending  time.]    Well,  they're  lots  of  fun. 

lan's  Mother.  Yes,  and,  you  see,  you  like 
them  partly  just  because  you  spend  your  time 
on  them,  play  with  them,  and  work  with 
hem,  and  get  to  understand  them  and  the 
battles  they  can  fight. 

Ian.  [Reassured  as  to  criticism — full  of  in- 
terest.] Yes.  this  is  the  Battle  of  the  Marne 
they're  fighting  now. 

lan's  Mother.  [In  a  low  voice.]  And  to- 
morrow they'll  be  fighting  Festubert. 

Ian.  [Enthusiastic — shouting.]  Yes,  and 
the  next  day  after  that  St.  Julien. 

Jan's  Mother.  And  so,  you  see,  you're 
fond  of   them    because   you've   got  to   know 


them.      Do    you   see    that?        New   soldiers 
wouldn't  be  the  same.    Now,  would  they  ? 

Ian.  [Doubtfully — not  quite  catching  on.] 
N-no. 

lan's  Mother.  And,  don't  you  see,  you're 
just  the  same  to  me.  I'm  fond  of  you  because 
I've  worked  with  you  and  played  with  you — 
because  you're  mine.  And,  just  as  your 
soldiers  are  your  very  own,  and  you  don't 
want  to  part  with  them,  or  see  them 
broken 

Ian.  [Hoisting  himself  along  the  floor, 
leaning  .one  elbow  on  her  knee,  quite  in- 
terested.]   Yes?    Go  on,  mother. 

lan's  Mother.  Ian,  I'm  just  like  you. 
You're  my  tin  soldier.  I  don't  want  to  part 
with  you — and  see  you  broken.  That's  why  I 
said  that  it  was  bad  enough  to  have  dad  go, 
and  that  I  wanted  to  keep  you  lie  re  beside  me. 

Ian.    [Pondering.]    But,  mother 

lan's  Mother.    Well? 

Ian.  Mother,  if  I  was  grown  up  now,  you 
wouldn't  want  to  have  me  here.  You'd  want 
to  have  me  fighting,  wouldn't  you  ?•  [He 
bends  over  and  touches  the  front  Private.] 
Like  that. 

lan's  Mother.  [Looking  out  at  the  birch.] 
Ian,  if  you  were  big  and  grown  a  man,  I  don't 
know  how  I  could  ever  let  you  go.  [After 
a  moment — in  a  surprised  tone.]  And  yet 
you're  right.  I  wouldn't  want  to  have  you 
stay. 

Ian.  [Common  sense.]  Of  course  you 
wouldn't.     I'd  be  there,  you  bet  I 

lan's  Mother.  [Still  looking  out  at  the 
birch — still  in  her  surprised  voice.]  No ; 
you're  right.  I'd  push  you  out  with  my  own 
hands  sooner  than  have  you  stay.  I'd  want 
to  have  you  there.  [She  bends  down  and  takes 
the  Private,  and  rapidly  changes  Private  and 
Officer.]    I'd  want  to  have  you  there. 

Ian.    [Eagerly.]    Yes,  and  I'd  get  there. 

Jan's  Mother.  [Like  a  flash.]  But,  Ian, 
perhaps  you'd  die  getting  there. 

Ian.  [Falling  back  on  his  original  argu- 
ment.] So  did  the  Five  Hundred.  Don't  you 
remember?  If  they  did,  T  could.  [Clinching 
the  matter.]    I'm  Canadian. 

lan's  Mother.  [In  a  hurry.]  You're  Scotch 
as  well.  And  if  von  ever  go,  you'!!  have  to 
go  in  a  kilt — mind  that! 


CANADA    /.V    KHAKI 


Page   189 


Ian.  [Tolerantly.]  That's  just  because 
you're  Scotch,  mother.  [Stating  the  facts  of 
the  case.]  I'm  Canadian.  [After  a  second.] 
And  so's  dad. 

lan's  Mother.  [Still  in  a  hurry.]  Don^ 
push  me  out. 

Ian.  [Giving  encouragement  where  en- 
couragement is  due.]  Never  mind,  mother. 
You're  Canadian  since  you  married  us.  Dad 
and  me's  made  you  one. 


lan's   Mother. 


Bv  Dudley  CU/tver 
"  And  were  you  wounded  so  badly,  poor  man,  all  in  one  battle  ?" 
"  Gte  !    There's  nothing  half  so  bad  as  this  at  the  front.     )  just 
got  hit  by  a  "bus  in  your  city  when  I  was  on  leave  !  " 


lan's  Mother.  [Doubtfully.]  Well,  I  sup- 
pose I  am  I 

Ian.  [Finishing  that.]  Of  course  you  are. 
We've  made  you  one,  I  tell  you.  [Reverting 
to  the  main  trunk  of  the  conversation.] 
So  I'd  go  with  the  Canadians,  and  I'd 
lead  'em  into  battle,  and  then  I'd  die. 
[Reflectively.]  Or  else  I'd  come  back  home 
again,  perhaps. 

[Stopping  her  knitting  to 
give  him  one  tight 
squeeze.]  You'd  come 
back  home  a^«.n. 

Ian.  [Wriggling  out  of 
the  squeeze.]     Like  dad. 

lan's  Mother.  [Her  eyes 
again  on  the  birch  tree.] 
Like  dad. 

[The  birch  waves  a  little  in 
the  spring  breeze.     It 
might  be  a  Highland 
.,     birch  on  the  slope  of  a 
Highland   hill.      It   is 
Scotland  transplanted, 
and     growing    in    its 
new  soil  sturdily.] 
lan's  Mother.     [Coming 
back  from   the   birch — de- 
cidedly.]    Anyway,  you'd 
have  to  wear  the  kilt. 

Ian.  [Responding  to  the 
note  of  decision.]  All 
right,  mother. 

lan's  Mother.     And  the 

bagpipes  on  in  front ! 

Ian.  Canadian  bagpipes. 

lan's    Mother.     [Doubt- 

fully  once  more.]    Well,  I 

suppose  so. 

Ian.      [Jumping     up — 
taken  dramatic]     Me  with 
the     Canadians,     and     us 
going  into  battle  with  the 
bagpipes  at  the  head  of  us. 
[tVi/h    one    leap    he    goes 
into  battle  on  the  spot, 
and  plunges  head  first 
into  the  tea-tray  com- 
ing in  at  the  door   in 
the    arms    of    a    neat 
Tablemaid.] 


Page  IBO 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


The  Neat  Tablemuid.    Oh 

Ian.     Oh ! 

lan's  Mother.    Ian  1 

Ian.  [Foreseeing  possible  unpleasant  con- 
sequences.]   I  didn't  mean  to 

lan's  Mother.  [Taking  up  her  knitting 
again.]    Any  harm  done,  Minnie? 

The  Neat  Tablevuiid.  [With  the  glance  of 
affection  in  the  direction  of  Ian.]  No, 
ma'am.    Not  to  speak  of — so  to  say. 

'  Ian.  [Relieved.]  Oh !  [After  a  slight 
pause,  during  which  the  Neat  Tablemaid 
arranges  her  tea-table  unobtrusively.]  Say, 
mother  ?  > 

lan's  Mother.  One,  two,  three — pur] ! 
One,  two,  three — purl !    W^it  a  minute,  Ian. 


Ian.  [After  a  minute  fraction  of  time.] 
Mother 

lan's  Mother.  [Showing  alarming  signs  of 
relapsing  into  knitting  for  good.]  Well, 
what  is  it  ? 

Ian.  Mother,  if  you  wouldn't  mind  me 
going  in  a  kilt  that  time. 

lan's  Mother.    Get  on, 

Ian.  [Blurting  it  out — not  at  all  sure  of  the 
reception  of  his  logic]  Well,  couldn't  I  have 
a  khaki  suit  right  now  ? 

lan's  Mother.  [Taken  aback — under  the 
impression  that  that  was  settled  long  ago.] 
Oh! 

Ian.  [Pleadingly.]  Oh,  mother,  couldn't  I? 

lan's  Mother.    [Hesitating.]    Well 


By  IF.  F.  Thomas 
Sergeant  (who  is  classifying  men  for  Church  Parade,  to  long-haired  recruit)  :  "  What  religion  ? " 
Recruit :  *'  Unitarian." 
Sergeant  (staring  aghast  at  his  flowing  locks)  :     "  Unit-hairun  I     I  should  say  so  ;    you  hop  off 

n>ii'  >.ep  ilic  l)iirbBr  !  " 


"The   Unsoldierlike   Sub. 

A    LETTER   FROM    THE   FRONT. 


^ 


THERE  has  come  to  band,  within  the  last  {ew  weeks,  a 
letter  from  a  Captain  with  the  B.E  f.  which  is  well 
worth  reprinting  here,  in  view  of  its  distinctive  differ- 
ence from  the  majority  of  "  letters  from  the  rroni,"  as  well 
as  what  has  been  lately  published  regarding  the  remarkable 
extent  to  which  "  Pelmanism"  is  being  adopted  by  officers 
of  His  Majesty's  Army  and  Navy. 

Here  is  the  letter  in  question : 

*'  1  was  looked  upon  with  disfavour  by  the  CO.  of  my  Itattalioo  at 
home  as  being  a  sleepy,  forgetful,  and  unsold'erlike  itub.  When  1 
began  your  CourK  my  star  be^an  to  rise — I  bad  the  ability,  but  bad 
not  been  able  to  use  it.  I  ictt  the  home  battalion  With  my  CO.'t 
recommendation  as  being  the  best  officer  be  had  bad  for  more  than  a 
year,  and  came  to  France. 

"  I  W.1S  then  appointed  as  a  second  lieutenant  to  command  a  company 
over  the  heads  of  four  ftjen  with  two  '  pips,'  and  have  now  three  slai« 
and  an  M.C. 

"  Thai  1  was  able  to  make  use  of  my  abilitiel  so  succesafulhr  I  attribute 
entirely  to  the  Pelman  System.  '* ,  Captain." 

As  an  isolated  letter,  the  foregoing  might  fail  lo  carry  much  weight 
But  when  it  is  taken  as  typical  ol  some  hundreds  of  similar  letters 
from  Army  and  Navy  officers,  then,  ini^ced,  one  is  forced  to  con- 
cede that  theie  must  be  "something  in  Pelmanism." 

Nearly  forty  Generals  and  Admirals  and  well  over  300  naval  anJ 
regimental  commanders — to  say  nothing  of  3.000  other  officers  and 
a  multitude  orN.C.O.sand  men — have  adopted  Pelmanism  since 
the  outbreak  of  war,  and  every  day  brings  reports  from  them  as  to 
substantial  Ijenefits  derived. 

Let  us  take  a  few  examples.  A  Naval  Captain  reports  promotion 
to  the  command  of  a  line  cruiser — thanks  to  his  Pelman  training. 
A  Lieutenant-Colonel  reports  "  a  step  in  rank  "  within  two  months 
of  starting  the  Course.  A  Major  writes  attributing  his  Majority 
aittl  his  U.S.O.  to  the  same  agency.  A  General  and  a  Rear- 
Admiral  also  write  giving  testimony.  There  is  not  a  rank  or  unit 
of  either  Service  which  has  not  supplied  convincing  evidence  of  the 
fact  that  Pelmanism  is  truly  the  short  road  to  progress. 

Many  officers  find  that,  in  addition  to  assisting  them  to  greater 
military  efficiency,  the  Pelman  Course  serves  other  desirable  ends. 
For  example : — 

*'  The  Course  has  prevented  me  bccomine  slack  and  stagnating  during 
my  Army  life— this  is  a  most  virulent  clanger,  I  ma)r  add.  It  incuf- 
cates  a  clean,  thorough,  courageous  method  of  playing  the  game  of 
Life — admirably  suited  to  the  Kngtish  temperament,  ana  should  prove 
wmpral  salvation  to  many  a  business  man.  *  Success,'  too,  would 
follow — but  I  cottsider  this  as  secondary." 

Such  letters  render  comment  superfluous. 

The  evidence  forces  one  irresistibly  to  the  conclusion  that,  as 
•'  Truth  "  says,  "The  Pelman  Institute  places  the  means  of  pro- 
gress within  the  reach  of  everyone. "  However  sweeping  this  state- 
ment may  appear,  it  is  literally  true  I  There  is  no  case  upon  record 
in  which  the  conscientious  student  of  "  Pelmanism"  has  failed  to 
reach  the  coveted  goal— whether  that  goa.  \x  promotion,  financial 
betterment,  social  or  professional  advancement,  or  aught  else. 

"  Pelmanism  "  in  the  Services. 

The  extent  to  which  "  Pelmanism"  has  been  adopted  by  both 
Services  is  wonderlul.  At  the  present  time  there  are  no  fewer  than 
7,000  officers  and  men  following  the  Pelman  Course,  including : — 

— 3<  OeneralB.    6  Admiral*, 

—81  Naval  Captains  and  Commanders. 

—144  Colonels,  and  over  3,000  other  OfScera. 

From  these,  voluntary  reports  are  received  daily,  recording  pro- 
motion and  other  benefits  due  to  "Pelmanism." 

As  to  results,  the  difficulty  is  to  select  the  most  representative 
ones.  Here  is  a  random  selection  which  could  be  multiplied  a 
thousandfold  from  the  Institute's  records : — 

—Promotion  to  Colonelcy. 

—Placed  my  practice  on  a  satisfactory  basis  (Doctor.) 

—Else  of  £145  per  annum  (Salssman). 

— Donbled  my  turnover. 

—Naval  promotion  (Captain). 

—Salary  improved  30:>  par  cent. 


-Utarary  prize  of  C230. 

— Hy  Income  has  gone  up  300  per  cent.  (ArohltACtX 

—Substantial  Increase  in  my  salary. 

—Increase  of  salary  iiO  per  cant. 

—Increased  tumover  and  salary. 

-Secured  a  Stafr  Api>olntment  (Army). 

—My  tumover  has  beaten  all  records. 

— Hy  business  has  Increased  contdderably. 

—Salary  exactly  doubled. 

—Added  £80  to  my  Commlasion  Account. 

—I  have  bad  a  40  per  cent.  rise. 

—Salary  Increased,  also  a  ten  per  cent,  bonna 

—My  salary  has  been  Increased  by  sn  per  cent. 

-The  means  of  making  my  Income  double. 

— Oreateat  increase  In  biutness. 

Thus,  in  every  direction—  !  ind  educa- 

tional—the Hrlnian  Sysiei.  1  men  and 

women  of  every  trade,  pn  "  ,,i,iin  success. 

And  what  is  the  cost  ?  ■  devoted  each  evening 

for  a  few  weeks  to  a  most  ■  of  study  ;  not  study  m 

the  humdrum  sense  of  the  woril,  but  a  real  mental  recreation. 

From  the  very  first  !r«;'.nn  difficulties  begin  to  vanish  ;  problems 
bt'-  .       11  13  no  magic 

fi'!  •rlectly  open  one 

—  t: , . „ „ aon  of  Uie  menul 

faculties,  leadmg  10  a  tremendous  sumulation  oi  energy  and  confi- 
dence in  oneself. 

From   business   and    profes.^ional   women   eulo  ■   ^   are 

received  by  the  thousand.     M.iny  of  them  actti.i  The 

Pelm.in  Institute  for  understatin/;  the  value  of  ii.^  s  .u.^v.  For 
instance,  a  Solicitor  writt^  • — 

"I  used  to  think  that  the  claims  made  far  'Pelmanism' 
must  tie  fantastic;  now  I  consider  them  to  be  undentate- 
ment*  of  the  truth. " 

It  is  useful  to  bear  in  mind  this  comment  t^hen 

one   is   tempted   to   think   that   tbe  annoui  .    the 

Institute  are  in  any  degree  exaggerated.     Ai .■  lad, 

evtry  slattmrnt  made  htre  or  eliewhere  by  tht  Fttman  JfrnttlmU  can 
b€  kandsomgly  JHitified  by  a  reftrenct  to  the  record]  of  the  Jiulitute, 

A  Student  of  the  Course  recently  wrote :  "  If  people  only  knew, 
the  di»rs  of  the  Pelman  Institute  would   tie  literally  besieged  by 

en::"  i.-.^,.         '■—■  as  a  purely  social  and  intellectual  factor, 

1''  '  few  hours  required  for  its  study  ;  and 

o\>  opie  have  enrolled  for  it  within  the  last 

few  weeks  (Iruin  duLul  rank  downwartls). 

Qualities  Developed. 

Following  the  intensely  interesting  lessoiu  and  exercises,    the 


'rong 
nd 


.tnd  b/>ii.tl  duties 

-ss.     All  mental 

niinated — such  a-> 

Aimlcssness,   Bash- 

etc. .etc    Individual 

■  :dent  receives  the 

■istructors  at  th<- 

ind  problems. 


students  of  Pelmanism  rapidly  develop  a  brill 
Will  Power,  complete  power  of  Concentration 
judgment,  an  ability  to  Reason  clearly,  lo  < 
Organise  and  Manage,  and  to  conduct  :' 
with   Tact,   Courage,    Sell-Confidentr 
weaknesses  and  deircl';  are,  on  the  oth 
Mind-wandcring,    Forgetfulness,    Weak  Will, 
fulness.  Self -consciousness,  the  "  Worry  Habit." 
instruction  is  given  through  the  post.  --  '    ' 
utmost  assistance  from  the  large  exp' 
Institute  in  solving  particular  personal 

The  Directors  of  the  Institute  have  arranged  a  subsuntial 
reduction  in  the  fee  to  enable  readers  to  secure  the  complete  oourst- 
with  a  minimum  outlay.  To  get  the  iMneflt  of  this  liberal 
offer,  application  should  ba  made  at  once  by  postcard  or  by 
latter  to  the  address  below. 

Write  to-day. 

A  full  description  of  the  Pelman  Course  is  given  in  "  Mind  and 
Memory,"  a  free  copy  of  which  (together  with  "  TRUTH  S  '  special 
Report  on  "  Pelmanism, "  and  particulars  showing  how  to  secure 
the  Cotlrse  for  one-third  less  than  the  usual  fee)  will  be  sent  post 
free  to  all  readers  of  "  Canada  in  Khak.1  "  »ho  send  to  The 
Pelman  Institute,  106.  Wenhara  House,  Bloomsbury  Street.  London, 
W,Ci. 


Pa^e   16S 


CA.VADA    IN    KHAKI 


Ian.  [Seeing  a  ray  of  light  thai  may  pus- 
sibly  lighten  a  Gentile.]    Why  couldn't  I  ? 

lan's  Mother.  [Not  able  to  stop  hesitating 
now  she  has  begun.]    It  makes  it  seem  so  real. 

Ian.  [More  than  willing  to  meet  her  half- 
way.] We'd  have  Scotch  bagpipes,  mother. 
/  shouldn't  mind.  Just  two  or  three.  We 
wouldn't  mind.  They'd  come  along  with  us 
Canadians.     We'd  soon  teach  'em  ! 

Jan's  Mother.  [Abstracted.]  Why  do  you 
want  a  khaki  suit  so,  Ian  ? 

Ian.  [Tending  to  self-importance.]  It's 
kind  of  getting  ready.  And  you  said  you'd 
want  to  have  me  go. 

lan's  Mother.  [Reluctantly.]  Yes,  I  know 
I  did. 

Ian.  [Persistent.]  Then  why  can't  I 
have  it? 

lan's  Mother.    [Weakening.]    Well,  if 

Ian.  [Hardly  believing  his  ears.]  Oh, 
mother,  can  I  ?  [Beatifically  to  the  surround- 
ing atmosphere.]-  Then  I  can  I 

lan's  Mother.  [Just  for  one  moment  relaps- 
ing into  the  Aged  Grown-up  talking  down  to 
the  Young.]    We'll  see  about  it. 

Ian.  [Recognising  this  time-worn  medium 
of  consent — entirely  refusing  to  be  daunted  by 
the  gulf  between  Old  and  Young.]  Mother, 
you're  a  peach  ! 

lan's  Mother.  [Genuinely  shocked  this 
time.]  Ian,  what  a  way  to  talk  ! 
[The  Neat  Tablemaid  makes  her  appearance 
again  with  a  dish  of  hot  muffins  in  her 
hands.  .She  puts  it  down  on  the  tea-table, 
smiles  surreptitiously  at  Master  Ian,  and 
disajypears.] 

Jan.  [Making  for  tea-fable.]  There's  tea. 
Mother,  come  on  !  When  can  we  go  and 
buy  it? 


lan's  Mother.  [Rolling  up  her  knitting 
anyhow — stuffing  it  into  a  bag — making  a 
dash  for  the  tea-tray  too — suddenly  just  about 
the  same  age  as  Ian.]  Oh,  I  want  my  tea! 
Buy  what  V 
Ian.       [Reproachfully.]       Mother  I        My 

khaki 

lan's  Mother.  [Stopping  en  route  for  the 
teapot  to  give  Ian  a  squeeze  and  a  hug  and 
twenty  miscellaneous  kisses  all  over  him  any- 
where.] Oh,  I  don't  know.  Any  time. 
[Giving  him  one  last  hug.]  Jan,  I'm  glad 
you're  not  grown-up — in  a  kilt !  I'm  thankful. 
Jan.  [Squirming  out  of  the  kisses.]  Don't, 
mother.  [Dragging  himself  up  a  chair  close 
to  the  table,  casting  a  hawk's  eye  over  the 
eatables.]  Can  we  go  to-morrow  ?  Will  you, 
mother?    To-morrow  morning,  early? 

lan's  Mother.     [Taking  the  teapot  in  her 
hand — bursting    out    laughing.]      I    will,    if 

you'll 

Jan.     [Ekigerly — going   headlong   into   the 
trap.]    If  I'll  what? 

lan's  Mother.  [Laughing  just  like  a  school- 
girl.]   If  you'll  have  all  Scotch  bagpipes — not 
a  Canadian  skirl  amongst  them  I     Will  you, 
Ian? 
Jan.      [Scenting    ridicule — getting    pink.] 

Mother 

[He  entombs  the  rest  of  his  remarks  in  a  great 
,  deal  more  hot  muffin  than  is  healthful  for 
the  young.  His  mother  goes  on  pouring 
out  the  tea.  She  glances  over  at  Ian  as 
she  passes  him  his  cup,  and  she  still 
laughs  a  little.  And  then  she  looks  out  at 
the  birch,  and  she  sighs.  The  birch 
stands  like  some  spring  miracle  of  a  foun- 
tain, showering  green  spray  instead  of 
white.] 


WORSERY"    RHYMES. 


Baa-baa,  Bombers,  have  you  any  Bombs? 
Yes,  sir,  yes,  sir,  here  they  comes. 
One  for  the  Kaiser  and  one  for  Fritz, 
And  one  for  to  frighten  ole  Heine  into  fits. 

The  A.m. p.  has  lost  his  men. 

And  doesn't  know  where  to  find  them. 

Let  'em  alone  and  they'll  come  home 
Leaving  their  crime  sheets  behind  them. 


Sing  a  song  of  Pill-box, 

Pocket  full  of  Huns, 
Four-and-twenty  Boches 
Chained  to  their  guns. 
When  the  Pill  was  opened 
The  Huns  began  to  sing  : 
.  "  Kamerad,  Kamerad,  God  Save  the 
King." 


f 


ALL  CANADIAN 


AND    OTHER 


SOLDIERS  ARE  WELCOMED 

in  the  800  RECREATION  HUTS,  TENTS,  and  Centre*  of 

THE  CHURCH  ARMY 

in   the  Training  Camps  at   Home  and  in    France.     200   under  shell-fire  along 
the     Western    Front  ;     also    in    Malta,    Egypt,    Sinai,     Palestine,    Macedonia, 
Mesopotamia,    East  Africa,  and    India. 

Facilities  for  readings,  writing,  drying  wet  clothing,  refreshments, 
games,    music,    &c.  ;     also    quiet   corner  for  meditation,  religious 

services,   &c. 

Cost  of  Hot,  £500,  fully  eqnipped. 

MORE    ARE    URGENTLY    NEEDED. 

.  Cheques  crossed  "  Barclays',  a/c  Church  Army."  payable  to  Prebendary  Carlilc,  D.D.,  Hoi 

^k        Chie!  Secretary,  Headquarters,  Bryanston  Street,  Marble  Arch,  London,  W.I,  England. 


A 


^ 


^ 


CANADIAN  MILITARY  BADGES. 

We  have  made  more  badges  for  the  Canadian  Expeditionary 
Force  than  any  other  firm  in  England,  having  cut  over  60G 
different  dies  since  August,  1914. 

The   average  prices  for   battalion  orders  of    1,000  upwards 
are  : — 


Cap  badges  .  . 
Collar  badges  . 
Shoulder  titles. 


6d.  each  (12  cents). 
7\A.  per  pair  (15  cents). 
7\di.  per  pair  (15  cents). 


Special  designs  cost  slightly  more,  while  ordinary  maple  leaves  and  plain  titles 
are  considerably  less. 

Officers'    badges,    when   ordered  with  men's,  come   out   at  special  rates. 

We    also   make    artistic  reproductions   in  gold  and  silver  as  souvenirs. 

Our    factory    is    self-contained,  thus    enabling    us 
to  guarantee  rapid   deliveries. 

Whatever  you  want  in  these  goods,  WRITE  US.  '\^  ^ [^\^F7^ 

XIPXAFX   &•   SON.    LXD..  ^Mi^(; /.  r\ 


Norlhamplon   Street,    Birmingh»m,    England. 


^ 


'Phone:  Caatral   6661. 

Taleir*' hie  Address  :   "Tlstaft,    BirminKhain." 


^ 


XXVI 


Page  164 


-      CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


MAKING    THE   GUNS    AND 


A  Visit  to  an  Armament  and  Munitions  WorKs  in  the  North  of  England 

By  Lieut.   G.  W.  CAVERS 


THREE  years  ago  the  Allied  nations 
opposed  to  the  aims  of  the  Central 
Powers  of  Europe  went  into  Armageddon  ill- 
equipped  and  consequently  outclassed.  This 
was  especially  the  case  with  regard  to  Great 
Britain.  It  was  early  found  that  she  had  not 
provided  the  quantities  of  arms  and  muni- 
tions necessary  to  sustain  even  Lord  French's 
"contemptible  little  army"  in  the  field  of 
action,  not  to  speak  of  the  ever-growing 
forces  that  were  springing  to  the  aid  of  the 
Motherland  at  home  and  in  the  Daughter 
States  in  all  quarters  of  the  globe. 

Optimistic  beings  lulled  us  into  a  sense  of 
fancied  security  by  averring  that  the  war 
would  last  only  a  few  months;  that  giant 
preparations  for  a  long  war  would  be  costly 
and  unnecessary.  They  were  listened  to  by 
men  in  high  places,  with  this  unfortunate 
result :  not  until  months  after  the  torch  had 
been  applied  did  the  whole  people  of  the 
Empire  realise  that,  with  the  appliances  at 
hand,  they  could  not  extinguish  the  confla- 
gration. They  discovered  that  unless  our 
armies  were  placed  on  a  par  with  their  oppo- 
nents and  provided  with  immense  and  ever- 
increasing  quantities  of  guns  and  shells  they 
must  lose  the  war.  The  attention  of  the  first 
Minister  of  Munitions  was  directed  towards 
providing  those  guns  and  shells. 

It  was  through  the  courtesy  of  the  present 
Minister  of  Munitions  that  a  party  of  officers 
and  other  ranks  representing  the  Shoreham 
Area  had  an  opportunity  recently  of  visiting 
great  plants  in  the  North  of  England.  As 
stated  in  the  circular  letter  from  Head- 
quarters, the  trip  was  arranged  "in  order  that 
a  just  appreciation  may  be  formed  of  the 
efforts  which  have  been  made  both  by  men 
and  women  since  the  outbreak  of  the  war." 


The  trip  was  a  delight  and  a  revelation. 
To  some  extent  the  operations  of  our  muni- 
tions and  armament  works  have  been  veiled 
in  secrecy;  but  since  it  has  been  acknow- 
ledged officially  that  the  Canadian  volunteer 
should  be  made  acquainted  with  the  efforts 
that  are  being  made  properly  to  equip  him 
for  the  fray,  the  writer  feels  that  something 
should  be  said,  in  the  way  of  a  general  report 
of  the  trip,  to  help  to  convey  to  the  minds  of 
those  not  fortunate  enough  to  see  for  them- 
selves, a  just  estimate  of  the  wonders  of  one 
of  the  representative  establishments  of  the 
Empire. 

The  party  inspected  over  80'  acres  of  build- 
ings in  one  town.  All  these  buildings  bear 
the  same  name.  The  ^employees  of  this  firm 
in  this  town  alone  number  13,000.  Here  were 
seen  something  of  the  many  processes  of 
welding  and  forging  and  shaping  huge 
blocks  of  steel  and  iron  into  guns,  armour 
plates,  gun  mountings,  shells,  locomotive 
wheels.  There  were  50-foot  guns  for  the 
newest  battleships.  There  were  hundreds  of 
i8-pounders,  howitzers,  bomb-throwers,  anti- 
aircraft guns.  There  were  thousands  of 
shells  for  the  i8-pounders  and  more  thousands 
of  the  15-inch  "pills"  that  weigh  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  a  thousand  pounds  apiece 
and  travel  in  their  flight  15  miles  from  the 
muzzle  to  the  target  with  wonderful  accuracy. 

Chief  interest  centred  in  the  huge  naval 
guns.  In  the  first  place,  we  noticed  some 
14-inch  naval  guns  for  Allied  Governments. 
Some  of  these  guns  were  700  inches  long, 
the  length  being  determined  by  the  number 
of  calibres — in  this  case  50  calibres  of  14 
inches.  We  were  told  that  this  particular 
Government  was  impressed  with  the  import- 
ance  of    possessing   a   long   gun,   as  some 


Tbe  LONDON  LEADS 


i 


•I 

I 


9 


The  LONDON  MAGAZINE  has 
reached    PRE-EMINENCE    in 

the  magazine  world,  and  has  at- 
tained a  circulation  that  is  the 
envy  of  its  rivals,  b^  the 
consistent  excellence  of  its 
contents. 

*♦'  *♦»  *♦» 
The  War  interest  in  every  number  is   strong. 

-^  •=♦»  -*• 

But  the  interest  of  the  "  London "  is  by  no 
means  exclusively  a  War  interest.  It  specialises 
in  Complete  Stories  from  the  fascinating  pens  of 
writers  who  are  AT  THE  TOP  OF  THE 
TREE  in  contemporary  fiction. 

The  Nature  Stories  by  F.  ST.  MARS  are  a  source 
of  delight  month  by  month  to  its  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  readers. 

And  these  hundreds  of  thousands  of  readers  in 
Great  Britain,  at  the  Front,  and  in  Canada  have 
learnt  to  LOOK  to  the  LONDON  for  special 
articles  on  vital  topics,  because  they  know  that 
to  make  these  articles  as  interesting  as  they 
can  possibly  be,  _no  trouble  will  be  spared  and 
no  cost   will   be   too  great. 


XXVll 


Page  166 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


thing  that  must  necessarily  be  worth  the 
money ;  whf^reas  the  more  practical  John  Bull 
prefers  a  shorter  gun,  making  up  for  it  by 
the  extra  amount  of  "push"  that  is  placed 
in  the  magazine  and  the  increased  resisting 
power  of  the  barrel.  So  that  we  go  in  for 
guns  of  45  calibres,  the  calibre  being  14-inch 
or  15-inch  as  the  case  may  be. 

Now  a  15-inch  gun,  without  the  mountings, 
weighs  roughly,  I  was  told,  about  120  tons. 
There  are  eight  on  a  first-class  battleship, 
so  that  we  may  easily  understand  that  ships 
must  be  constructed  with  considerable  regard 
to  the  weight  of  the  guns  they  will  have  to 
carry,  else  they  would  not  have  the  required 
buoyancy.  The  greatest  weight  of  one  of 
these  guns  is  concentrated  in  the  magazine 
or  shell  chamber.  The  gun  itself  has  four 
tubes  of  forged  steel  throughout  its  whole 
length.  These  are  strengthened  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  shell  chamber  by  winding  thin 
bands  of  steel  over  them.  These  steel  bands 
are  -^  of  an  inch  in  width  and  .07  of  an  inch 
in  thickness.  The  extent  to  which  this  wind- 
ing process  reinforces  the  four  tubes  may  be 
jodged  from  the  fact  that  in  some  of  the 
largest  guns  180  miles  of  steel  are  used. 
There  are  32  layers  of  this  steel,  one  on  top 
of  the  other.  Then  outside  of  all  this  is  a 
jacket  of  steel.  The  steel  is  warmed  so  that  it 
expands,  and  then  it  is  pushed  over  the  tubes 
and  the  32  layers  of  reinforcing  bands.  When 
it  cools  it  fits  snugly.  The  whole  has  a 
wonderful  resisting  power,  able  to  withstand 
the  tremendous  pressure  of  the  explosive. 

The  building  of  a  naval  gun  of  such  dimen- 
sions requires  about  nine  months.  This 
gun  is  good  for  about  120  charges.  Then 
it  comes  back  to  the  factory  to  be  relined. 
The  exterior  is  still  all  right,  but  after  a 
hundred  or  more  projectiles  weighing  a  thou- 
sand pounds  each  have  passed  through  the 
barrel,  and  prodigious  quantities  of  high 
explosives  have  been  set  off  inside  to  speed 
those  projectiles  on  their  way,  it  can  be 
understood  that  the  weapon  is  ready  to  be 
laid  up  for  repairs. 


We  were  interested  in  the  casting  of  the 
great  armour  piercing  shells  for  these  naval 
monsters.  I  have  said  that  they  are  about 
1,000  pounds  in  weight.  The  metal  is  gas- 
heated  in  a  crucible  at  a  temperature  of  about 
1,600  degrees  Centigrade,  and  the  heating 
takes  from  12  to  14  hours.  The  pouring  of 
the  metal  was  timed  for  the  arrival  of  our 
party  at  the  spot.  At  the  base  of  the  crucible 
the  clay  bank  was  punctured  and  a  livid 
stream  of  iron  ran  over  the  ground  and  into 
a  ladle  standing  on  the  track  below.  This 
ladle  holds  liquid  iron  for  12  shells.  It 
requires  some  minutes  for  this  crucible  to 
empty  itself;  then  a  travelling  crane  seized 
the  ladle  and  carried  it  over  to  the  moulds 
which  were  soon  filled  and  the  shells  were 
ready,  save  for  a  little  trimming. 

Various  other  processes  were  witnessed  in 
the  brief  inspectiqn  of  this  huge  plant.  We 
saw  operatives  cutting  inch-and-a-half  steel 
turret  plates  that  protect  the  guns  of  the 
battleships.  An  oxy-acetylene  flame  melted 
the  steel  as  easily  as  a  plumber  dissolves  his 
solder  with  a  small  gas  blow.  We  saw 
drop-forges  of  great  weight  shaping  locomo- 
tive wheels  and  armour  plates.  There  were 
hundreds  of  branches,  all  under  one  manage- 
ment. And  each  worthy  of  a  visit  of  some 
hours. 

This  firm  is  merely  representative  of 
Britain's  gigantic  efforts  to  restore  peace  to 
a  stricken  world.  Under  the  spur  of  the 
Win-the-War  Government  it  is  speeding  up 
to  full  capacity — three  shifts  a  day,  the  fires 
of  the  furnaces  never  dying.  In  the  Mid- 
land counties,  in  North  England  and  in 
South  England  hundreds  of  factories  similar 
to  this  one  are  piling  up  prodigious  quantities 
of  shells  to  back  up  the  boys  in  the  firing 
line,  and  turning  out  guns  in  unbelievable 
numbers. 

The  Canadian  representatives  who  saw 
this  wonderful  industry  will  have  a  better 
understanding  of  this  important  side  of  the 
war  business,  and  it  was  a  happy  idea  to 
inaugurate  a  series  of  visits  of  this  kind. 

G.  W.  Cavers. 


CONSUMPTION 


THE  Tubercle  Bacillus  is  still  claiming  its  victims,  and,  unfortunately, 
many  of  our  men  who  have  escaped  the  Huns'  bullets  have  only  done 
so  to  be  claimed  by  this  insidious  germ,  the  Tubercle  Bacillus.  There  is, 
however,  a  remedy  to  combat  it,  although  it  has  not  yet  been  officially 
recognised,  and  anyone  sufTering  from  Consumption  or  Tuberculosis,  in 
whatever  form,  will  be  wise  to  write  for  full  particulars  of  the  Stevens' 
treatment  ;  or,  if  full  details  of  the  case  are  sent,  a  supply  of  the  remedy 
itself  will  be  despatched,  specially  suitable,  on  the  distinct  understanding 
that  nothing  whatever  need  be  paid  for  it  unless  the  patient  be  perfectly 
satisfied  with  the  benefit  received,  and  considers  the  progress  made 
warrants  its  continuance. 

Many  who  were  hopeless  cases  of  Consumption  a  short  time  ago  are 
now  fighting  for  their  King  and  Country  hale  and  hearty,  and  thank. 
Stevens'  Consumption  Cure  for  their  recoveries.  The  following  are  just 
a  few  of  them  ;  the  addresses  given  are  of  their  homes.  Those  suffering 
from  the  disease  should  write  to  them  direct  and  get  first-hand  evidence 
that  this  wretched  disease  can  really  be  cured,  and  men,  after  suffering 
from  it  even  in  its  last  stages,  fitted  for  actual  war  service  : — 


Mr.  A.  Armstrong,  Wilks  Hill,  Quebec,  Durham 
— Tubercular  Spine.  He  was  discharged  from  the 
Newcastle  Infirmary  as  a  hopeless  case,  as  they 
could  do  no  more  for  him.  Was  cured  by  Stevens' 
treatment,  and  when  last  heard  of  on  May  17th 
had  been  serving  in  the  trenches  in  France  for 
eleven  months. 

Mr.  G.  E.James,  29  High  Oak,  Pensnett,  Dudley, 
StafTs,  was  cured  by  Stevens'  remedy  after  sana- 
torium treatment  proved  a  failure.  When  last 
heard  of  on  June  27th  had  been  eleven  months  in 
France  with  the  British  Expeditionary  Force. 

Mr.  E.  Jones,  Tygwyn  Farm,-  Llangoedmore, 
Cardigan,  was  cured  by  Stevens'  Consumption 
Cure,  and  when  last  heard  of  on  July  7th  was  on 
active  service,  having  been  passed  in  Class  At  on 
every  medical  examination. 

Mr.  P.  J.  Whetter,  115  Elder  Road,  Canton, 
Cardiff,  had  diseased  lungs,  a  cough,  expectoration, 
night  sweats,  and  affected  throat.  After  taking 
Stevens'  Consumption  Cure  was  able  to  go  with 
the  Expeditionary  Force  to  France  in  191 5,  and 
was  still  serving  his  King  and  Country  when  last 
heard  of  in  September. 

Mr.  Sydney  Skipworth,  7  Ritches  Road,  Har- 
ringay,  N.,  after  operation  for  tubercular  glands  in 
the  Tottenham  Hospital  without  success,  appeared 
to  be  in  a  dying  condition  when  commencing 
Stevens'  treatment,  was  cured  seven  years  ago, 
and  when  last  heard  of,  on  September  iist,  was  in 
France  serving  his  King  and  Country. 


Mr.  C.  Ryden,  3  Regent  Street,  Teignmouth, 
Devon,  was  sent  home  from  Canada  suffering  from 
Consumption,  was  cured  by  Stevens'  Consumption 
Cure.andwhen  last  heard  of,  in  September,  was  still 
keeping  well,  and  serving  with  the  Forces  in  Egypt. 

Mr.  E.  Pratt,  29  Mansfield  Street,  Foss  Islands 
Road,  York,  was  cured  by  Stevens'  Consumption 
Cure  after  Tuberculin,  among  other  so-calU-d  reme- 
dies, had  failed.  When  last  heard  from,  on  July 
25th,  had  been  serving  nineteen  months  with  the 
British  Expeditionary  Force  in  France. 

Mr.  H.  BuNCE,  2  Short  Street,  High  Wycombe, 
Bucks,  recovered  by  the  use  of  Stevens'  Consump- 
tion Cure  after  the  usual  remedies  had  failed  to  even 
give  relief,  and  when  last  heard  of,  on  Sept.  2ist, 
was  still  keeping  quite  well,  serving  with  the  Colours. 

Mr.  C.  Larcombe,  who  lived  at  35  Bath  Street, 
Chard,  Somerset,  after  sufTcring  from  Consumption, 
with  a  cough,  expectoration,  and  aflected  throat, 
took  the  Stevens'  treatment,  was  cured,  and  when 
last  heard  of  in  September  was  still  in  the  best  of 
health,  serving  with  the  Army  in  Egypt. 

Mr.  G.  Sab!n,  who  lived  at  2  Bestwood  Road, 
Hucknall  Torkard,  Notts,  was  .sufTering  from 
Consumption,  bringing  up  a  pint  of  sputum  in 
twenty-four  hours,  throat  also  affected.  This  was, 
apparently,  quite  a  hopeless  cast,  but,  after  being 
treated  by  Stevens'  Consumption  Cure,  he  got  well 
enough  to  pass  for  active  service  with  the  British 
Expeditionary  Force  in  France,  where  he  was  sent 
in  Feb.,  1915,  and  has  been  wounded  three  times. 


Onis, 
Address 


pu  AC     If    QTrVFWQ    204  &  206  Worple  Road,  Wimbledon, 
^nAO.  n.  Oi£iV£illO,  LONDON,  S.W.19. 


Page  168 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


THE 

TWA    DOGS 

(not    burns'   twa) 


By    W.    D.    DODD    (Canadian    Field    Artillery) 

Illustrated   by   Byam    ShaW 

(An  actual  incident  at  a  "Barn"  Church  Parade  of  the  Canadians  in  France) 


Ye  blastit  curs,  hae  ye  nae  grace, 
Tae  caper  sae  i'  the  sacred  place? 
Dae  ye  nae  ken  the  man  o'  God, 
Tae  Heaven  pointin'  us  the  road? 
Puir  beasties,  na,  your  canine  souls> 
Pent  in  skins  as  black  as  coals, 
Canna  thole  that  this  auld  shed, 
Whaur  likely  ye  were  born  an'  bred. 
An'  chassit,  whiles,  the  nimmle  rats, 
Or  supped  (I  dinna  think)  on  Spratts 
Is  noo  the  temple  o'  the  sodgers. 
An  'ither  purgatory  dodgers. 


An'  wad  ye  desecrate  the  legs 

O'  him  wha  Heaven's  blessing  begs? 

Wha  feels  ye  scrub  agen  his  shanks, 

An'  slyly  kicks  your  flittin'  flanks. 

Ye'll  slip,  I'll  wager  mony  dollars, 

Yon  hauns  ootstretched  tae  grup  yer  collars; 

The  deil's  within  ye  baith,  I  trow ; 

Ye  gaur  the  Padre  mop  his  brow. 

Ay,  noo  you're  catchit,  graceless  pair, 
This  nicht  ye'll  trouble  us  nae  mair : 
The  Temple  money-changers'  fate 
Is  yours;  outside  ye  noo  maun  wait.' 


IN    MEMORIAM    OF   A    GOOD    FELLOW 

(Bdr.  W.  C.  C.  11th  Battery,  C.F.A..  Killed  in  Action) 


Poor  old  "  Irish  " — one  of  the  best, 
Like  many  another  has  "Gone  West." 
Rarely  in  Peace  or  War  you'll  find 
A  cheerier  chap,  or  one  so  kind. 
He  knew  no  feai",  and,  what  is  more, 
Scorning  the  deadlier  side  of  war, 
Endured  its  misery,  hunger,  cold. 
With  a  smile  that  lit  like  a  ray  of  gold 


His  mirthful,  ever-welcome  face — 

With  "  Irish  "  there  gloom  fled  the  place. 

And  now,  alas  1  he  is  no  more — 

On  earth  at  least,  though  a  brighter  shore 

Has  welcomed  to  its  endless  day 

The  boy  who  cheered  our  weary  way. 

And  this  is  no  mean  epitaph  : 

"Through  dreary  days  he  made  us  laugh. 


Eyes  RIGHT! 

AND  HAIR  RIGHT 

IF   YOU   USE 

TOZANA 


HAIR    FOOD 


TOZANA  is  the  perfect  Tonic  FIXING  CREAM 
which  controls  the  most  stubborn  hair 
without  makins:  it  harsh  or  pulling  it  out. 
Removes  scurf  and  dandruff.  No  oil  or 
grease  to  soil  the  hat. 

Of  All   ChomUU,    Stores.  Hairdreuars  and  CaQteena — 

1/-,  2/-,  3/6,  5/-      (iniaHdZ 


TOZANA.  257  Gray's  Inn  Road.  London,  W.C.I. 


f^ 


^ 


For  Heartburn, 
Flatulence,  Acidity,  &c. 

Some  years  ago  Messrs.  S.avory  &  Moore  obtained  posses- 
sion of  a  formula  by  the  celebrated  Dr.  Jenner  for  a  lozenee 
possessing  remarkable  power  to  absorb  acidity  in  the  stomach. 

They  confidently  recommend  these  lozenges,  of  which  they 
are  the  sole  manufacturers,  as  a  safe  and  reliable  remedy  for 
Heartburn,  Flatulence,  Acidity,  and  all  digestive  disorders. 
One  or  two  lozenges  give  immediate  relief,  even  in  the  worst 
cases,  and  taken  t«fore  a  meal  prevent  those  distressing 
symptoms  due  to  indigestion  which  so  frequently  follow. 
Thousands  of  .Suffer«rs  testify  that  they  have  derived  more 
benefit  from  these  lozenges  than  from  any  other  remedy. 
They  are  pleasant  to  take  and  quite  harmless. 

Boumemoolh, 
"  I  Am  very  glad  T  '  ^a1  of  Dr.  Jenner '»  .Mnorbent  l.oMngcs, 

for  1  found  Ibem  s-  :<.it  I  iminvd>A(e]y  secured  A  liirge  hoxt 

and  now  after  a  ^  "**^'l  use  of  them  1  can  tnittitully  say 

they  have  done  ai.  i;ood  than  anything;  else  1  hare 

tried  for  Hcartburr.  :>'.     They  have  saved  me  from  R 

good  many  sleepier  -  .:tateful  that  you  are  at  liberty  to 

tise  this  testimontut  if  yuu  cJiuo;,c" — K.F. 

Boxes  1/3,  3/-  and  5/-.  of  ail  Chemists. 
A    FRBE    8AMPLK 

of  the  lozenges  will  be  sent  on  application.  Mention  this 
publication,  and  address:  —  Savory  St  M(X)RK,  Ltd., 
Chemists  to  the  King,  143a,  New  Bond    St.,  London,  W.  i. 

DR.    JENNER'S 
ABSORBENT    LOZENGES 


NOW 


How 

to 

Study 


.MrniNC 

/ELECTRKTTY 
ENGINEERING 

I  MATHEMATICS 
DRAUGHTSMANSHIP 

I  CIVIL   ENGINEERING 
BOILER   INSPECTING 
MARINE    ENGINEERING 
WIRELESS   TELEGRAPHY 
MOTOR   ENGINEERING 
STRUCTURAL   ENGINEERING 
SURVEYING   AND   LEVELLING 


If  yoa  arv 
Intereatedf 
10  the 
■indr  of 
sny  one  of 
the*.,  ^ut.- 
i 


w.ll 


Writs  for  the  one  you  are  Interested  In. 

SMe  Age  and  send  id.  stamp  to  nver  foslagi. 
No  statnp  required  with  ovemeas  applii-jitt'jns. 

The  BENNETT  COLLEGE   Dept  47).  SHEFHELD. 


Page  170 


CANADA    IN   KUAKJ 


LONDON   GUIDES 

By   W.   PETT    RIDGE 

Illustrated  by   TOM  COTTRELL 


[Carriage  of  District  Railway  at  leisurely  hour 

of  the  day.    Train  Westward  bound.    At 

Mark  Lane  three  Canadian  soldiers  enter. 

Passengers,   having  regarded  each  other 

for  some  time  past  with  semi-detached  air, 

concentrate     eager     attention     on     new 

arrivals.] 

First     Canadian.     [With     relief.]       Well, 

that's   done   that!     We   shan't   have   to  see 

over  the  Tower  of  London  again. 

Old  Gentleman.  [Politely.]  You  found 
your  visit,  gentlemen,  I  hope,  replete  with 
interest.  The  Tower  may  be  described  as 
the  most  notable  fortress  in  the  country.  By 
whom  it  was  built,  and  when,  we  are  not 
completely  informed,  but  there  is  reason  to 

believe  that  Julius  Caesar 

Lady.  [With  fish  basket.]  'Ave  you 
young  fellers  climbed  up  the  Moniment  yet? 


'The  Tower  may  be  described  as  the  most  notable  fortress 
in  the  country '  " 


Oh,  you  mustn't  miss  the  Moniment.  It'll 
be  some'ing  for  you  to  talk  about  all  the  rest 
of  your  life.  Why,  there's  three  'undered  and 
forty-five  steps  to  it,  and  it  only  runs  you  in 
to  thruppence  each.  [Earnestly.]  I  assure 
you  it's  well  worth  the  money,  and  it'll  make 
you  realise  for  the  first  time  what  the -word 
tired  means.  'Ere  we  are  1  'Ere's  the  station. 
I'm  getting  out,  and  I'll  willingly  direct 
you. 

[Train    stops    at    Monument.      Fish    basket 
Lady      goes,      evidently      disappointed. 
Canadian  soldiers  exchange  smiles  with 
Girl  Conductor.] 
City  Man.  [Speaking  with  authority.]  You 
lads  would  do  well  to  alight  at  Cannon  Street, 
and    make   a    thorough    exploration    of    the 
neighbourhood  around  there.     When   I   tell 
you  that  within  a  couple  of  minutes  you  can 
be  looking  at  the  Mansion 
House,  gazing  at  the  Bank 
of  England,   inspecting  the 
frescoes   in  the   Royal   Ex- 
change,    and   seeing   the 
office  where  I  started  as  a 
junior   clerk,    I    rather   im- 
agine  I   have   said  enough 
to  prove  to  you  that  this  is 
a  great  chance.     Now,  I'm 
a  busy  man,  but  I'll  sacri- 
fice half  an  hour  to  showing 
you    around,    and    I'll    ex- 
plain everything   in  a  way 
that  even  the  meanest  com- 
prehension  

[He  has  to  make  a  rush  for 
the     doorway.      Train, 
after  waiting  for  a  frac- 
tion of  a  second,   goes 
on.] 
Old     Gentleman.      [Still 
lecturing.]      The^  visitor 
should  on  no  account  omit 


CANADA    IN    KHAKI 


Page  171 


the     Beauchamp    Tower,    and    the    Bowyer 
Tower,  and  St.  Thomas's  Tower,  and,  above 

and  beyond  all,  the  Bloody [His  attention 

is  called  to  the  fact  that  ladies  are  present.] 

Small  Boy.  [Shrilly,  and  with  sudden  cour- 
age, to  Canadians.]  Gotany  cigarette  pic- 
tures? [They  shake  heads  negatively.]  Got- 
any badges?  Gotany  souveneers?  Gotany 
walnuts?  Gotany  anything  to  give  away? 
[Small  Boy's  Mother  shakes  him,  and  says 
he  will  never  go  to  heaven.] 

Small  Boy's  Mother.  [Apologetically.]  I 
don't  know  where  he  gets  his  manners  from, 
but  I'll  swear  he  don't  get  'em  from  my  side 
of  the  family.  You  must  know  [confidentially] 
that  I  was  unlucky  enough  to  marry  beneath 
me.  My  'usband  wasn't  my  equal  ngt  in 
education,  or  persition,  or  bringin'  up,  he 
wasn't.  I  was  still-room  maid  at  a  club  not 
far  from  here,  and  if  you  three  gentlemen 
jump  out  at  the  station  after  the  next,  you'll 
be  able  to  'ave  a  glance  at  the  very  spot  where 
he  proposed  to  me.  You  go  up  Villiers 
Street,  you  cross  the  Strand,  you  ask  a  copper 

to  direct  you  the  way  to 

[Small  Boy  found  grovelling  on  the  floor, 
making  collection  of  discarded  tram  and 
'bus  tickets.  His  Mother  promises  to 
break  his  blooming  neck  for  him.  Other 
passengers  join  in  the  sport  of  giving 
advice.] 

Girl  Conductor.  [At  Charing  Cross.]  Next 
station  for  you  three  gentlemen.  Going  to  the 
Pay  Office  at  Millbank,  I  s'pose? 

First  Canadian.  Muriel,  you  are  gifted 
with  second  sight.  You  are  a  best  ever, 
Gladys.     Dorothy,  you  beat  ^he  band. 

Girl  Conductor.  Guess  what  my  name 
really  is.    [They  guess.] 

Other  Passengers.     [Excitedly.] 

They  ought  to  give  a  whole  afternoon  to 
Westminister  Abbey.  There's  enough  at 
Westminister  Abbey  to  take  up  a  good  three 
bowers.    Why.  Poets'  Corner  alone 

If  they  fail  to  go  for  a  trip  on  the  river 
they'll  regret  it.  There's  a  boat  leaves,  or  at 
^ny  rate  used  to 

What  they'd  better  do  is  to  walk  back 
throug:b  Whitehall,  go  into  the  National 
Gallery,  and 


"  They  kissed,  on  leaving,  with  emphasis  " 

Never  do  for  them  to  miss  the  statues  in 
Parliament  Square.  It  ought  to  be  some- 
body's business  to  take  them  in  hand,  and 
save  them  from  wasting  their  time. 
[Train  prepares  to  stop  at  Westminster.  The 
three  soldiers  stand  up.] 

Girl  Conductor.  "Beatrice"  is  right,  but  it 
took  you  a  while  to  find  out.  When  you 
going  to  see  these  places  they've  been  recom- 
mending you  to  go  to? 

First  Canadian.  Trixie,  we've  already  done 
the  whole  caboodle.  All  the  London  sights, 
from  A  to  Z.  And  the  prettiest  and  most 
attractive  we've  encountered  up  to  the  present 
is 

Girl  Conductor.    [Innocently.]    Which? 

The  Three.    [In  chorus.]    You  I 
[They  kiss  her,   on  leaving,   with  emphasis.] 

Girl  Conductor.  [Composedly,  to  waiting 
travellers.]  Passengers  oflf  the  car  first, 
please  I 


FatfC    172 


CANADA    IN    KJ-IAKi 


BACK  FROM   FLANDERS 

By  ADRIAN    ROSS 


When  we  come  back  from  Flanders — 

And  who  can  tell  us  when  ?  - 
The  wind  wjll  rouse  the  maple  boughs 

To  greet  the  marching  men ; 
And  green  or  red,  up  overhead 

The  maple  leaves  will  know 
The  song  we  sang  in  Flanders, 

Our  song  of  long  ago  ! 

When  we  come  back  from  Flanders, 

We'll  hardly  know  our  home, 
The   hills  and  trees  from   seas  to  seas. 

The  falls  that  laugh  in  foam ; 
The  snow  that  shines  between  the  pines. 

The  air  that  stirs  your  blood —  / 

Not  like  the  world  in  Flanders, 

A  maze  of  mist  and  mud  ! 

When  we  come  back  from  Flanders, 
With,  all  the  fighting  done,   . 

How  good  to  stand  in  God's  own  land. 
Untainted  by  the  Hun  ! 


To  drink  the  air  that's  clear  and   rare. 
And  smells  of  leaves  and  grass — 

And  Ibse  the  fog  of  Flanders, 
The  reek  of  death  and  gas  ! 

When  we  come  back  from  Flanders— 

Not  all  will  come  again — 
There's  many  a  mound  in  Flemish  grouiu; 

That  lies  above  our  slain ; 
And  here  and  there,  our  hearts  know  wheir. 

A  little  cross  to  tell ; 
They   went   through    hell    in    Flanders, 

To  save  the  world  from  hell. 

When  we  come  back  from   Flanders, 

We  want   no  pomp  and  praise; 
Enough  to  find  among  our  kind 

The  dear  old  days  and  ways; 
Enough  if  thus  men  say  of  us, 

Who  know  us,  and  have  seen — 
That  through  the  mire  of  Flanders 

We  kept  our  honour  clean  ! 


AT    PEACE 

By   COLONEL  LORNE   ROSS 


The  calm  of  summer's  evening 
Falls  soft  on  the  slender  mound, 

While  drooping  flowers  swaying 
Waft  sweet  incense  from  the  ground. 

Peaceful  at  rest  he  slumbers. 
Who  fought  for  the  Cause  he  loved, 

One  of  the  countless  numbers 
For  Freedom  to  shed  his  blood. 

He  heard  the  voice  of  Empire 
Sound  clear  on  Alaska's  height. 

Calling  her  sons  from  afar 
To  join  in  the  righteous  fight. 

Where  sweeps  the  mighty  Yukon 
Through  the  land  of  eternal  snow. 


He  sprang  to  the  help  of  Britain 
In  battle  against  the  foe. 

He  followed  Duty's  guidance 
O'er  wide  continent  and  sea, 

To  the  blood-stained  fields  of  France 
Where  men  battled  to  be  free. 

Amid  the  ruin  and  carnage, 
The  thunder  of  gun  and  shell. 

Facing  grim  death  with  courage. 
Fearless  he  fought  and  fell. 

There  where  night's  benediction 
Breathes  quiet  o'er  the  silent  sod. 

Waiting  the  bless'd  resurrection 
He  rests  in  peace  with  his  God. 


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Explaining  ''  Feminine  Charm  " 

By   MILLICENT   BROWN 

Illustrated  by   PENRHYN    STAN  LAWS 


I    NOTICED   a   curious    thing    re- 
cently   in    a    railway    train.      A 
nicely-dressed     woman     entered, 
and  took  a  seat  beside 
me.     I  saw  that  every- 
one was  looking  at  her 
— staring  in  fact. 


what?'*  I  exclaimed,  horrified.    Again 
she   laughed,    and    replied,    "Sounds 
shocking,  doesn't  it?     But  I  will  ex- 
plain.    Instead  of  using 
J  jWj^  face  creams,  I  use  only 

^f^S^^^J^f^f^  P"*^^    mercolized    wax, 


But  not 
fensively  y 
understand, 
caught  my- 
self doing 
the  same 
thing.  It 
was  impos- 
sible to  help 
it.  Certainly 
it  was  not 
her  beauty 
of  feature 
that  held 
the  eyes  of 
all,  nor  was 
it  her  cos- 
tume. But  there 
was  something 
about  her  face 
and  expression 
—  I  risked  it, 
and  spoke. 
"Would  you  mind  tell- 
ing me,"  I  said,  ^' how 
you  keep  your  com- 
plexion so  dazzlingly 
pure  ?  You  won't  think 
me  impertinent,  but  you  seem  to  be 
over  thirty,  aren't  you  ?  And  yet  you 
haven't  a  line  in  your  face,  and  your 
cheeks  are  quite  peach-like.  Do  tell  me 
how  you  do  it."  She  laughed,  quite 
good-naturedly.  "Oh,  that's  very  easy," 
she  said  ;  "  I  remove  my  skin."    "  You 


rocurable    at 
ny    chemist's. 
The  wax  has  a 
gentle    absor- 
bent action 
which  takes 
up   and   re- 
moves   the 
soiled     and 
weather- 
beaten 
outer    film- 

rskin,  with- 
out pain, 
irritation,  or 
discomfort, 
thus  reveal- 
ing the  real 
complexion 
fresh  and  clear 
underneath. 
Every  woman 
has  a  beautiful 
complexion 
underneath,  you  know. 
Then,  to  keep  my  face 
firm  and  free  from 
wrinkles,  I  merely  in- 
dulge in  a  sparkling 
face  bath  two  or  three  times  a 
week,  which  I  prepare  by  dissolv- 
ing a  little  st3'mol  (obtained  at  the 
chemist's)  in  a  bowl  of  warm  water. 
This  also  keeps  away  those  unpleas- 
ant little  blackheads,  and  prevents 
'shine.'" 


Your  Future  Depends  on  Yourself ! 

Be  a 

Private  Secretary 

'J here  is  Ko  Fim  r  Oftningjor  u 
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Position. 
The  demand  for  trained  men  as  Private 
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Tlie  f^ame  success  may  he  your  own. 

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Mr.  Cyril  F.  W.  Andrews,  on  completing  our  Correspondence 
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Miss  Ethel  New,  after  eight  weeks'  study,  became  secretary  to  a 
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Mr.  C.  H.  Canning,  on  the  completion  of  our  Secretarial  Course, 
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ment at  a  salary  of  j(i  156  per  annum. 

Mr.  H.  V.  Rickard,  after  a  few  weeks'  study,  was  appointed 
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Write  fo.i.ty  for  our  Free  Handbook  and  epn  Testitnonials.  fvith 
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F.S, 


These  Skirts  and  Gowns 
can  be  instantly  increased 
J  to  16  inches  without 
losing  shape.  Can  be 
worn  as  ordinary  garment 
after  maternity. 

Combined  Maternity. 
Nurs  ng  and  Al  dominal 
Bel  ed  Corset.  .Most 

graceful,     hygienic, 
and  serviceable. 


Retommended    by    th^ 

cUf^a.i-n  Medical   Profession  as 

.  t-noben.  absolutely      indi^pens- 

lailor-made  to  measure  able.        tate     sise     re- 

by  experts.  quired  ivhen  ordering. 


According  to  material 
chosen. 


From 


\     Retail  Warehouse  :    Ift.^  Houlds-  = 

worth    St.   (top    Oldham    St.),  = 

Manchester.  H 

LONDON    47  DUKE  ST..  W.l  = 

(facing  Se'fridtfe  s).  ^ 

nllllllllllllltlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll<- 


I  Address  Lady' 
I  M  anageress- 


'INLAYS 


DON'T  HAVE  AN 
OPERATION  FOR  RUPTURE 

Doctors,  Surgeons,  Nurses  and  Hospital  Staffs  are  already  overworked 
in  caring  for  our  wounded  fighting  men  and  those  civilians  who  are 
really  ill.  Don*t  ask  them  to  operate  on  you  for  rupture.  Operations 
ate  exp  nsive  both  in  money  and  time  (both  of 
which  we  should  save  to  the  utmost),  and  beside 
they  are  not  always  successful. 

The  Kice  Method  has  cured  thousands  in  the  r 
own  hom^^s  while  fo'lowing  their  own  occnp;i 
ti&ns,  without  pam  or  loss  of  time  anrl  at  slight 
expense.  It  has  cured  after  two  operations  have 
failed.  Try  il.  Among  those  it  has  lured  are 
Mr.  H.  Denning,  Heathfield  Nursery,  Hamp- 
ton, Middlesex  (ruptured  from  ch'ldhood);  Rev. 
T.  Brown,  i6  Kimberley  Drive.  Gt.  Crosby. 
Liverpool  (had  double  rupture  twtlve  years); 
Mrs.  A.  Gray,  c/o  Mrs.  Vibert,  32  Syvedon 
Road,  Tooting  Junction,  S.VV.  (aged  73  ye^rs^ 
ruptured  twe- ty-two  years);  and  Mrs  Austin_ 
I  DoUilas  Street,  Osniaston  Road,  Derby  (rup. 
MR.  H.  PENNING.        j^j.^.^  twenty  five  )ears,  t^\o  operations  failed). 

The  Rice  Appliances  have  recently  obtained  the  highest  awards  at 
the  Iniernational  Kxposition  of  -Arts  and  Indus  ri'S  at  Barcelona, 
leceivmg  the  Diploma,  Golden  Palm  Leaves,  and  Gold  Medal. 

FREE    TO    THE    RUPTURED. 

A  free  trial  of  tliis  famous  home  cure  will  be  sent  free  to  anyone  who  is  ruptured 
or  who  knows  of  any  person  ruptured,  if  the  following  Coupon  is  sent  at  once. 

COUPON   <B.   1751). 

Cut  out  and  post  to  WM.  S.  RICE,  ^,td.  (G.P.O.  Box  No.  5),  8  and  9 
Stonecutter  Stre    t.   London,   E.C.4. 

yime  ruptured? Age 

Rif;h!,  left   or  both  sides  or  navel  ? 

Name  

Address  


Canada  in  Kbaki,  London  (li  1750- 

xxxiii 


Is  Your  Soldier  Boy 

Lonely  ? 

Books  are   Friends — Send   Him  a  Book 


THE  French  Government,  in  listing  articles  which  men  should  supply  themselves  with,  put 
down  books  as  one  of  the  first  necessities.  We  at  home  cannot  imagine  the  conditions 
under  which  our  boys  live  in  the  trenches.  Sometimes,  for  days  and  weeks,  they  are  abso- 
lutely idle.  Some  men  go  insane,  simply  through  the  endless  boredom  of  sitting  in  the 
trenches,  waiting  to  attack  or  to  be  attacked.  As  a  result,  they  call  for  books,  books — good 
books  to  read.  Our  Allies  have  supplied  their  soldiers  and  sailors  with  millions  of  books. 
We  must  do  as  much.  We  cannot,  we  must  not,  allow  the  morale  of  our  men  to  be  lowered. 
Then,  too,  wounded  men,  convalescent  men,  must  be  supplied  with  good  books.  Tliese 
boys,  many  of  them  maimed  for  life,  are  entitled  to  every  comfort  we  at  home  can  supply. 
Will  you  not  help? 

Below  is  a  list  of  books  most  suitable  for  sending  overseas — see  that  one  or  more  are 
included  in  your  boy's  next  box.  The  publishers  will  gladly  send  books  direct  to  your  boy, 
specially  packed  and  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  published  price.  Yes!  with  your  own  card 
inclosed,  if  you  wish  it. 


PUBLISHED  BY 

THE  MUSSON  BOOK  CO.,  LIMITED 
TORONTO,         -         ONT. 


THE   COW    PUNCHER.       By   Robert   J.    C. 

Stead    Cloth   $ 

THE  WINDS  OF  CHANCE.     By  Rex  Beach 

Cloth,    Jiet 

THE  UNPARDONABLE    SIN.       By    Rupert 
Hughes  Cloth,   net 

FOES.      By  Mary  Johnston Cloth,   net 

THE  MAN  FROM  BAR— 20.     By  Clarence 
E.   Mulford   Cloth 

MAM'SELLE  JO.     By  Harriet  T.  Comstock 

Cloth 

SHANDYGAFF. 


By      Christopher 
By  Zane  Grey Cloth 


Morley 
Cloth 


THE  U.  P.  TRAIL. 

THE  HIGH  HEART.     By  Basil  King Cloth 

THE    BEST    SHORT    STORIES    OF    1917. 

Edited  by   Edward   J.    O'Brien — Cloth,    net 


.50 

.50 

.50 
.50 

.40 

.40 

.40 
.50 
.50 

1.60 


PUBLISHED  BY 

HODDER  &  STOUGHTON  LIMITED 
TORONTO,        -        ONT. 

WHILE   PARIS    LAUGHED.       By     Leonard 

Merrick   Cloth       1.50 

LORD  TONY'S  WIFE.     By  Baroness  Orczy 

Cloth      1.35 

THE    HUNTRESS.       By     Hulbert     Footner. 

Cloth      1.25 

THREE    OF    HEARTS.        By     Berta     Ruck 

Cloth      1.35 

HIS    LAST    BOW.       By    Sir    Arthur    Conan 

Doyle Cloth       1.35 

THE  POMP  OF  YESTERDAY.     By  Joseph 

Hocking    Cloth       1.25 

THE  SILENT  LEGION.     By  J.  E.  Buckrose 

Cloth  1.50 
GREENMANTLE.  By  John  Buchan  Cloth  .75 
ROUGH    RHYMES     OF    A    PADRE.       By 

"Woodbine   Willie"    Cloth       1.00 

THE  HUMAN  TOUCH.    By  "Sapper".  Cloth      1.40 


Three  New  Fiction  Leaders 


BOONE 
STOP 

By  HOMER  CROY. 

Here  is  a  new  book  that  is 
acclaimed  by  the  press  to  be 
another  ' '  Huckleberry  Finn, ' ' 
a  book  that  is  setting  every- 
one talking — that  will  be  one 
of  the  biggest  sellers.  Homer 
Croy  is  an  author  with  a  sense 
of  humour  and  has  told  the 
story  of  Cleve  Seed  with  a 
naive  humour  that  is  fresh 
and  new.  John  Nicholas  Bef- 
fel  of  the  Chicago  Herald 
Examiner  says: 

"Somehow  I  didn't  think 
Homer  Croy  could  do  it,  but 
he's  gone  and  rung  the  bell 
with  a  novel,  'Boone  Stop.' 
And  after  sounding  the  gong, 
Homer  didn't  wait  to  see 
whether  people  would  buy  the 
book,  but  started  for  Prance. 
Soon  a  dozen  Missouri  com- 
munities will  lie  claiming  the 
honour  of  having  given  him  to 
the  world." 

Frontispiece,  Cloth,  $1.50  net. 


SYLVIA 
SCARLETT 

By  COMPTON  MAC- 
KENZIE. 

Compton  Mackenzie  is  back 
again — strong.  You  remem- 
ber the  sales  you  had  with 
' '  Carnival ' '  ?  Well,  this  book 
is  another  "Carnival."  In  it 
the  author  has  given  a  mar- 
vellous story,  full  of  colour 
and  life.  He  portrays  the  ad- 
venturous career  of  a  young 
girl  born  in  France  of  half 
English  and  half  French  par- 
entage. With  her  you  go 
through  all  the  excitement  of 
London  life,  sometimes  among 
the  rich — but  always  sur- 
rounded with  the  strong 
glamour  of  adventure  that 
follows  this  new  heroine  wher- 
ever she  goes,  making  her  in- 
teresting to  everyone  and 
loved  by  many. 

$1.60  net. 


LANDS' 
END 

By  WILBUR  DANIEL 
STEELE. 

Here  are  stories  of  the  Por- 
tuguese fisherman  of  Cape 
Cod,  written  by  one  of  the 
best  short  story  writers  Amer- 
ica has  to-day.  He  has  given 
pictures  of  those  men  and 
women  who  come  in  constant 
contact  with  the  sea.  Some- 
times with  a  haunted  ship  for 
a  background,  sometimes  with 
the  village  itself  or  a  small 
cottage,  the  stories  of  their 
lives  are  acted  out.  There  was 
a  strange  woman  who  came  to 
die  where  she  could  be  within 
the  sound  of  the  buoy -bell  on 
the  rocks,  but  she  found  her 
lover  and  so — lived.  On  every 
page  is  a  brilliant  picture  of 
this  fantastic  people  who  fol- 
low a  trade  that  is  as  old  as 
the  world. 

Frontispiece,  $1.35  net. 


Songs  from  the  Trenches 

Edited  by  HERBERT  ADAMS  GIBBONS. 

By  Them.selves — the  American  soldiers  in  Prance.  In 
tliese  |)oeins.  from  the  thousand  submitted  to  the  New  York 
Herald's  recent  competition,  we  get  many  vivid  flashes  of  the 
.soul  of  the  American  Expeditionary  Force.  Tlie  Iwok  is  more 
than  a  collection  of  poems,  a  few  of  which  are  brilliant  and  all 
of  which  are  interesting.  It  is  a  message  from  the  American 
soldiers  abroad  to  the  home  folks,  written  on  the  deck  of 
transports,  in  ?''rcnch  villages,  in  muddy  camps,  in  the 
trenclies.  Iwside  cannon,  or  in  hospitals.  Every  mother  and 
fatlier  in  the  States  should  own  a  copy  of  this  book. 

Cloth,  $1.25  net. 


ELEMENTS  OF 
NAVIGATION 

By  WILLIAM  J.  HENDERSON 

A  new  edition  of  a  book 
which  has  always  brought 
business.  In  previous  edi- 
tions you  have  sold  hundreds 
of  copies,  you  will  do  so  again, 
for  not  only  has  it  been  print- 
ed from  new  type  but  it  has 
been  entirely  revisejl  and  eon- 
tains  all  the  information  that 
students  of  navigation  are 
anxious  to  know. 
Illustrated,  Cloth,  $1.25  net. 


THE    MUSSON    BOOK    COMPANY,    LIMITED,     TORONTO 


IMPORTANT! 


THE  KAISER  AS  1  KNOW  HIM 

By  ARTHUR  N.  DAVIS 

Vivid  pen-pietures  of  the  Great  Enemy  of  Demoeracy  in  action,  painted  by  a  man  who  was 
for  fifteen  years  the  German  Kaiser's  personal  dentist.  The  royal  patient  has  come  to  Doctor 
Davis's  office  in  the  royal  automobile,  sat  like  any  civilian  in  Doctor  Davis's  office  chair,  and 
had  his  average  human  teeth  scraped  and  drilled,  filled  and  pounded,  like  any  other  man.  The 
author  also  has  made  professional  visits  not  only  to  the  palace,  but  during  the  war  and  up  to 
a  date  considerably  after  the  entrance  of  the  United  States  into  the  world-struggle  has  been  at 
the  German  Great  Headquarters,  four  times  on  the  western  front  and  twice  on  the  eastern. 
During  this  long  period  the  professional  relation  has  grown  into  a  personal  acquaintance — not 
quite  to  call  it  an  intimacy.  No  other  American  of  any  class  or  position  has  approached  such  a 
degree  of  personal  contact  with  the  Emperor  of  Germany. 

With  amazing  candour,  sometimes  for  hours  at  a  stretch,  the  Kaiser  has  discussed  with 
Doctor  Davis  the  events  and  developments  of  world  politics,  tendencies  of  human  progress,  per- 
sonalities high  and  low,  not  only  in  Germany  and  other  nations  of  Europe  and  Asia,  but 
especially  in  America.  Roosevelt,  Taft,  Hughes,  Wilson — all  have  been  the  subjects  of  the 
most  unrestrained  frankness  of  comment  upon  the  lips  of  the  master  of  Germany.  The  relations 
of  the  German  Empire  with  England,  Prance,  Russia,  Austria,  Belgium,  and  particularly  with 
the  United  States,  in  peace  and  war,  have  been  talked  about  by  the  Kaiser  in  his  conversations 
with  Doctor  Davis  without  reserve. 

The  book  throws  blinding  light  upon  the  question  of  the  Kaiser's  responsibility  for  the 
war,  upon  his  fore-knowledge  of  the  destruction  of  the  "Lusitania,"  upon  the  part  attempted 
by  the  German  government  in  the  Presidential  election  of  1916,  upon  the  Kaiser's  own  idea 
that  "America  shall  pay  the  bills  for  this  war" — upon  the  thousand  and  one  vital  ques- 
tions to  which  Canadians  want  the  answer. 


Cloth 


$2.00  Net 


SPLENDID    NEW    FALL    JUVENILES 


SANDSY 
HIMSELF 

By 
GARDNER   HUNTING 

Author  of  •'^andsy's  Pal" 

Do  you  remember  Sandsy  and 
Larry,  the  boy  "with  the  straw- 
berry eyesf"  Here  they  are  in 
new  adventures  in  the  country 
that  are  even  more  stirring  than 
in  the  former  book.  Young  read- 
ers will  not  fail  to  enjoy  reading 
of  their  favourites  in  new  sur- 
roundings. 

/((.<.    Clolh,   $\.2ri    net. 


YOUNG  ALASKANS 
In  The  FAR  NORTH 

By 
EMERSON  HOUGH 

Author  of  the  "Toung  Alaskam" 
Series 
Here  is  a  splendid  adventure 
book  for  boys,  the  fourth  in  this 
extremely  popular  series.  The 
three  lads  start  on  an  exploring 
trip  with  a  big  explorer.  Start- 
ing from  Athabasca  up  the  Mac- 
kenzie River  they  take  in  the 
Yukon  and  Klondike  country, 
meeting  with  many  adventures  on 
the  way. 

nil.    Cloth,    $1.25    net. 


THE  SECOND 
BUBBLE  BOOK 

Bv 

RALPH  MAYHEW  and 

BXTROES  JOHNSON 

Make  a  hit  with  the  kiddies. 
Lead  them  into  the  happy  realms 
created  by  this  "Books  That 
Sing"  series.  Columbia  records 
are  enclosed  between  the  pages  of 
each  story  and  can  be  taken  out 
and  played  on  the  phonograph,  so 
that  the  children  can  hear  sung 
plainlv  and  distinctly  the  songs 
of  "Simple  Simon, """Little  Bo- 
Peep, "and  " Old  King  Cole. ' ' 
IUt4.ilralrit  by  Khoda  Chase. 
$1.00   net. 


THE    MUSSON    BOOK     COMPANY,    LIMITED,     TORONTO 


The  Novels  of  Leonard  Merrick 

q  HODDER  &  STOUGHTON  are  publishing  a  Uniform  Edition  of  the  NOVELS  AND  STORIES 
OF  LEONARD  MERRICK  at  $L50  net  eaeh  volume,  which  will  appeal  to  all  booklovers. 
CONRAD  IN  QUEST  OF  HIS  YOUTH  (with  an  Introduction  by  J.  M.  Barrie),  WHILE  PARIS 
LAUGHED  (a  New  Book)  and  WHEN  LOVE  FLIES  OUT  O'  THE  WINDOW  (with  an  Intro- 
duction  by  W.  Robertson  Nicoll)  are  already  published.  THE  QUAINT  COMPANIONS  (with 
an  Introduction  by  H.  G.  Wells)  and  CYNTHIA  (with  an  Introduction  by  Maurice  Hewlett) 
will  be  ready  immediately.      Other  volumes  will  be  announced  later. 

HODDER  &  STOUGHTON  also  draxo  attention  to  the  following  very  important  Works : — 


<I  SIR  ARTHUR  CONAN  DOYLE'S  CLASSIC 
HISTORY  ^FjrHE_WAR,  of  which  the  first  three 
volumes^  have  been  published,  viz.,  THE  BRITISH 
CAMPAIGN  IN  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS.  Vol.  1., 
1914  (Third  Edition);  Vol.  11..  1915  (Second  Edi- 
tion);  Vol.  111.,  1916  (Just  Published).  Each  volume 
contains   Maps,    Diagrams.       $2.00    net. 

€]1  Also  SIR  ARTHUR  CONAN  DOYLE'S  fascinating 
book  on  "life  on  the  'other  side,"  "  entitled,  THE  NEW 
REVELATION,  of  which  a  third  large  edition  is  now 
printing.      $1.00  net. 

f|  ROBERT  BLATCHFORD  in  GENERAL  VON 

SNEAK  has  written  the  best  propagandist  book  about 
thTs  War,  and  no  wonder  it  is  in  great  demand.  "1  say 
to  every  man  and  every  woman,  read  this  book." — 
Major  Haldane  Macfall.  "This  book  should  be  in 
every  hand." — Daily  Mail.      Third  Edition,   $1.00  net. 

H  THE  CRIME,  by  the  famous  Author  of  J' ACCUSE 
(two  volumes,  $2.50  net  each),  a  work  which  Punch 
says:   "Will  stand   for  centuries." 


q  PROFESSOR  JOHN  ADAMS  of  the  University  of 
London  has  secured  the  services  of  a  group  of  special- 
ist    contributors    to    a    volume      entitled     THE NEW 

TEACHING.  "It  is  essential,"  he  states,  "that  we 
should  make  ourselves  accustomed  with  what  is  being 
done  and  planned  in  the  teaching  of  the  various  ele- 
ments of  the  school  curriculum."  This  is  one  of  the 
niost  important  educational  works  of  our  time  and 
every   teacher    should    see    it.       $2.50    net. 

<I  WAR  PENSIONS  AND  ALLOWANCES,  by  J.  M. 
HODGE,  MP.,  and  T.  H.  GARSIDE.  One  of  the  most 
useful  books  published  during  the  War.  It  deals  with 
the  ^vhole  question  of  war  pensions  and  allowances  in 
an  authoritative  and  instructive  manner,  and  there  is 
an  index  which  enables  anyone  to  find  the  reference 
to   any   particular   point   at   once.      $2.00. 


€1     Almost      everyone      has      heard      of      LAURENCE 

BINYON^  New  Book,   FOR  DAUNTLESS^FRANCE; 

which  was  reviewed  so  enthusiastically  on  France  s 
Day.  This  beautiful  book  is  the  official  story  of  the 
work  done  by  Britain  for  the  French  wounded.  It  is 
a  wonderful  story,  wonderfully  told.     Illustrated.  $1.50. 

H  THE  HARDEST  PART  is  a  most  outspoken  book 
by  J.  A.  STUDDERT  KENNEDY.  M.C,  C.F.,  author  of 
that  remarkable  little  book.  "Rough  Rhymes  of  a 
Padre."  which  is  selling  by  thousands.  "  'What  1 
want  to  know.  Padre,'  he  said,  'is,  what  is  God  like? 
That  is  your  real  business.  Padre;  you  ought  to  know." 
$1.50 

<|  The  New  Book  by  the  author  of  "In  the  Northern 
Mists"  is  entitled  NAVAL  INTELLIGENCE.  It  is  al- 
ready in  its  second  large  edition.  "He  is  as  pithy  and 
picturesque  an  expounder  of  life  in  the  Royal  Navy  in 
War  time  as  one  could  wish  to  sit  under.  His  ward- 
room dialogues  are  absolutely  top-hole." — Morning 
Post.      $1.35. 


Cjl  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  has  been  graciously  pleased 
to  accept  a  copy  of  S.  H.  LEEDER'S  magnificently 
illustrated  new  work  THE  MODERN  SONS  OF  TTIE 
PHARAOHS.  One  of  the  most  important  books  on 
Egyptian  life  of  to-day.      Illustrated.   $5.00. 

CP  If  you  want  to  know  what  goes  on  in  Germany's 
so-called  Parliament.  BEHIND  THE  SCENES  AT  THE 
REICHSTAG;  Sixteen  Years  of  Parliamentary  Life  in 
Germany,  by  the  ABBE  E.  WETTERLE.  is  one  of  the 
most    informing    books   published.      Illustrated.    $1.50. 

€][  A.  E.  STILWELL  expounds  a  most  remarkable 
scheme  in  THE  GREAT  PLAN:  How  to  Pay  for  the 
War.  The  author  provides  for' the  Nations  to  pay  all 
War  debts  within  fifteen  months  and  to  pay  all  debts 
between  nations  in  one  hour,  and  shows  how  the  na- 
tions can  return  to  a  speedy  pre-war  taxation.      $1.00. 


HODDER  &  STOUGHTON  LIMITED.  Publishers.  TORONTO.  ONT. 


"CANADIAN  OFFICER" 

"My  line  in  normal  times  is  buying  and 
selling  real  estate  in  the  Nor'- West  Province. 
For  the  last  year  or  so  I've  been  'pros- 
pecting' some  likely  plots  in  Flanders.  .  .  . 
Some  trail! 

"One  cannot  exactly  claim  perfect  drainage  or 
restful  home  life,  but  at  present,  well .  .  .  there 
are  a  few  good  pals  to  meet,  and  when  one 
lights  up  an  Army  Club  Cigarette  there  are 
worse  places  than  a  dug-out  perhaps  .  .  .  '  Gee 
Whiz!*  But  an  'Army  Club'  is  a  real 
'  chummy '  Cigarette,  and  welcome  every  time ! ! " 

"  OAVANDER'S 

ARMY  CLUB 


Sold  by  nU  the  leading  Tobacconists  and 
in  alt  the  Canteens  at  home  and  abroad. 

20  for  lid.    50  for  2/3.     100  for  4/6. 


West  End  Cinema  Theatre 

COVENTRY  STREET,  PICCADILLY  CIRCUS,  W.C. 

Weekdays,  2  tiU  11.     Sundays,  6  till   11. 

TO  WOUNDED  SOLDIERS  AND  SAILORS : 

Don't  hesitate  to  come  in  here  and  spend  a 
pleasant  hour.     It  costs  nothing  1 

I  am  doing  you  no  favour — on  the  contrary,  you 
are  honouring  me  with  your  company. 

Walk,  hop,  crawl,  or  be  carried  in  as  though 
the  theatre  belonged  to  you — it  does,  so 
long  as  I  am  its  Proprietor  I 

I  have  already  entertained  more  than  15,000 
Wounded  Boys,  and  have  arranged  matinees 
which  have  benefited  charities  to  the  extent 
of  over  £7,000,  for  which  I  thank  my 
Patrons  for  allowing  me  Jo  help  towards 
the   cheering   up   of  our   Boys   in  Blue. 

G.    F.    SEXTON. 


C.  F.  SEXTON.  SoU  Ptapriatoi. 


Some  Forthcoming  Attractions : 


"THE  GAY  LORD  QUEX.* 

"THE  QUESTION." 

"A  GAMBLE  FOR  LOVE." 

"  DADDY." 

"JACK   AND   THE 

BEANSTALK.' 
"THE  WHIP." 


"MY  LADY'S  DRESS." 
"HOLY  ORDERS." 
"A  LAUGHING  CAVALIER. 
"MASTER  OF  MEN." 
"DOMBEY  &  SON." 
"RICHARD  THE  BRAZEN." 


GRAND  ORCHESTRA-DAINTY  TEAS-LUXURIOUS  SURROUNDINGS. 


CORYTON8