"What are you reading, Arthur?" I said.
"NIETZSCHE," said Arthur.
I sneezed in response. "Isn't that the chap," I said, "who's really
responsible for the war?"
"People like you think so," he said.
"The reading of philosophy," I said, "was never in my line. Give me the
exact sciences; EUCLID for me every time."
"Hopelessly moth-eaten," said he. "Most of the schools have dropped him
in favour of geometry."
"Bah," I said, "a quibble. But tell me, wasn't it NIETZSCHE who taught
the Germans to think they were supermen or whatever you call 'em?"
"Contrary to the opinion of the man in the street," said Arthur, looking
at me rather meaningly, "NIETZSCHE did not write merely for the benefit
of German people, nor did he approve, I should say, of the German idea
of culture. You've been reading the evening papers; you're a wallower,
that's what you are."
"I'm afraid," I said, "you also consider yourself a bit of a superman."
"I admit," he said, "that I've gone a long way."
"Towards Tipperary?"
"Beyond you," he said, tapping the page of NIETZSCHE he was reading;
"we're not on the same plane."
"You can always get out and change," I said.
"Such flippancy," said Arthur, "is unbecoming in a lance corporal. What
you want is a course of philosophy."
"What you want," I said, "is a course of musketry." Arthur, who, like
me, is rising forty-six, is sound enough for home defence, but isn't in
any Force yet. So, being a lance corporal in the "United Arts" myself, I
feel I can throw advice of this sort at him freely.
"I'm going to give you a mental prescription," he said, taking out a
pencil and scribbling on an envelope. "Have you read this--LUDOVICI'S
_Who is to be Master of the World_?"
"No, I haven't," I said; "but I can tell you who isn't going to be--in
once."
"The Japanese," said Arthur, "think a lot of it."
"I've got a pal," I said, "who'd dearly enjoy a few rounds of mental
jiu-jitsu with you. He's got rather advanced ideas."
"Advanced!" said Arthur contemptuously. "We Nietzscheans speak only of
being 'complete' or 'nearer completion.'"
It was at this point that Alfred joined in. He was sitting in uniform on
the other side of the fire, reading _Ruff's Guide_.
"Who's that talking about poor old LUDOVICI?" he asked.
For a moment I was afraid Alfred thought that LUDOVICI was a horse.
"I was recommending him to this shining light of the Burlington House
brigade," said Arthur.
Alfred laughed. "Look here, young fellow," he said, "everybody knows
that he (pointing to me) is an antediluvian; but you've gone a bit off
the boil yourself, haven't you?"
"What do you mean?" said Arthur, looking rather pained.
"Many Continental theories," said Alfred, "when they die, go to Oxford.
I'm afraid your friend LUDOVICI'S theory has been sent down even from
there. Have you read Barrow's _Fallacy of the Nietzschean doctrine_?"
"N-no," said Arthur.
"Or Erichsen's _Completion of Self?_ You can get the paper edition for a
bob."
"I'm sorry to say I haven't," said Arthur, who looked sadly chap-fallen.
"But I will. However, for the moment I've got a meeting on--our literary
club, you know."
"I'm coming round to raid you one night," I said, "to see if you're all
registered."
For reply Arthur slammed the door behind him.
"Alfred," I said, when Arthur had left the house, "you astound me. Who
are these new friends and their philosophies, Barrow and the Danish
fellow, what's his name?"
"Mere inventions," said Alfred, "but they served."
"Then the fat's in the fire," I said; "he'll find out that you've been
pulling his leg before lunch-time to-morrow."
"That's all right," said Alfred. "Our lot's booked for Pirbright
to-morrow morning, and we shan't meet again till the other side of
Peace."
* * * * *
Illustration: AN ECHO FROM EAST AFRICA.
_Sentry_ (_until lately behind the counter in Nairobi, to person
approaching post_). "HALT! ADVANCE ONE, AND SIGN THE COUNTERFOIL!"
* * * * *
Illustration: THE CHILDREN'S TRUCE.