Young Thompson was a bit too short,
But hard as nails and level-headed,
And in his soul the proper sort
Of dogged pluck was deeply bedded;
To join the ranks he almost ran,
But saw the weedy supersede him;
Though he was every inch a man,
His country didn't need him.
He read each passionate appeal
On wall and window, cab and cart;
How impotent they made him feel!
He tried once more, though sick at heart.
In vain! He saw the sergeants smirk;
He argued, but they wouldn't heed him;
So sullenly trudged back to work--
His country didn't need him.
But, now the standard height's curtailed,
Again he goes to join the ranks;
Though yesterday he tried and failed
To-day they welcome him with thanks.
Apparently he's just as small,
But, since his size no more impedes him,
In spirit he is six foot tall--
Because his country needs him.
* * * * *
Illustration: T. B. D.
_Officer's Steward._ "WILL YOU TAKE YOUR BATH, SIR, BEFORE OR AFTER
HACTION?"
* * * * *