Avast! Belay! and we're bound away
With our hearts lashed fast to the fore,
But when mermaids sleep
In their bowers deep,
Do you think that the sweet things snore?
Our company commander spoke to us this morning in no uncertain terms.
He seems to be such a serious man. There is a peculiar quality in his
voice, not unlike the tone of a French 75 mm. gun. You can easily hear
everything he says--miles away. We rested this afternoon.
_March 3d._ Sunday--a day of rest, for which I gave, in the words of
our indefatigable Chaplain, "three good, rollicking cheers." Some
folks are coming up to see me this afternoon. I hear I must moo
through the fence at them like a cow. (Later.) The folks have just
left. Mother kept screaming through the wire about my underwear. She
seemed to have it on her brain. There were several young girls
standing right next to her. I really felt I was no longer a bachelor.
Why do mothers lay such tremendous stress on underwear? They seem to
believe that a son's sole duty to his parents consists in publicly
announcing that he is clad in winter flannels.
[Illustration: "MOTHER KEPT SCREAMING THROUGH THE WIRE ABOUT MY
UNDERWEAR"]
Polly drove up for a moment with Joe Henderson.
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