e., the gentleman who is paid for
the job--and are finally despatched to their destination.
Bobby, drawing his legs well inside the kennel, out of the way of
stray shrapnel bullets, begins his task.
The heap resolves itself into three parts. First come the post-cards,
which give no trouble, as their secrets are written plain for all to
see. There are half a dozen or so of the British Army official issue,
which are designed for the benefit of those who lack the epistolatory
gift--what would a woman say if you offered such things to her?--and
bear upon the back the following printed statements:--
_I am quite well.
I have been admitted to hospital.
I am sick } {and am going on well.
wounded} {and hope to be discharged soon.
I have received your {letter, dated ...
{telegram, "
{parcel, "
Letter follows at first opportunity.
I have received no letter from you {lately.
{for a long time._
(The gentleman who designed this postcard must have been a descendant
of Sydney Smith. You remember that great man's criticism of the Books
of Euclid? He preferred the Second Book, on the ground that it was
more "impassioned" than the others!)
All the sender of this impassioned missive has to do is to delete such
clauses as strike him as untruthful or over-demonstrative, and sign
his name.
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