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A THROW-OUT.

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A THROW-OUT. [FROM A CORRESPONDENT.] The cheerful visitor in vivid blue sank into the arm-chair with a sigh of content. He often said that after his eleven months j out there he would never grumble at any- thing again. Before the war he had been gentlemanly, and proud of it. Hardship, self-sacrifice, and the companionship of death had altered that. He was no longer merely gentlemanly, but a gentleman—no longer proud of it, but unconscious of it, wherein lies the great secret. The small boy held out a cherished possession. "Look at my Mills bomb," he said. Ali, looks familiar," was the reply. What do you use it for? Money-box. Dad bought it for me. Is it a real bomb? Oh, yes, it's real enough. Some flaw in it, so they made it into a money-box instead of loading it. They do. Handy things." The soldier smiled reflectively. I made one out of a lump of chalk," he said, one day when there was nothing doing. Just shaped it with a knife, pencilled the lines, and browned it with mud. It looked absolutely the thing. I put it down on the fire-step. Next minute along came the serjeant. Here,' he said, you shouldn't leave these things lying about.' Then he picked it up as carefully as could be, and of course it weighed next to nothing. He didn't say a word, but just put it down again and went on. Laugh He sat thinking. The smile became grim and slowly hardened. Handy things yes. Out on a bombing raid you just take these-nothing else. You have a steel hook, and you snick out the ring-so, and chuck it. Then things happen-nasty things. And Fritz doesn't like them a bit." He drew in his under-lip, and paused. Day I was hit-I was sitting in the dressing-station, waiting my turn. Mud from head to foot—pretty sight. Feeling rotten. Felt something heavy in my pocket, and took it out. It was a Mills grenade. I sat weighing it in my hand, just like I'm sitting now. I looked round, and there was a wounded Fritz staring at it. You should have seen his eyes. "I looked at him, and—well, he was wounded and a prisoner, but I wished a wish or two. I'd just seen some of our chaps brought in-cassed. Well! He sat upright. That's over for a bit, thank goodness! So this one's a money-box. A good bit in it, too, by the sound." "Eleven and six," said the boy. "I'm going to buy another War Savings Certi- ficate when I have enough." Another? You have one then? "I have three," proudly. That's the stuff. Yes, handv things. Useful, even if it is a throw-out." He glanced at his remaining arm. A throw- out," he said quietly, but still useful."

.-DAVY JONES.

BY THE WAY.

DRIVEN AWAY!

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"CHARLIE" AT THE FRONT.

THE WOMAN'S PART.

FOOD TOPICS. b

THE WOMAN'S PART.