And with him we
War ever, ever can be right."
"The Haggis of Private McPhee," with its vein of comedy so closely mingled with tragedy, is never to be forgotten, once read. The two comrades who, both wounded, one blind, the other with both legs shot away, combining the resources that are left them, and thus making their way painfully back to camp, in order to taste the juicy plum pudding, which a sorrowing and thoughtful mother had sent, only to find their companion, whom they had left to guard the feast, in tears, and to hear the tragic story he has to tell, is a wonderful bit of realism; for in his blubbering Scotch, Wullie McNair breaks the news to them:
And there it lay steaming and savory hot,
When sudden I dooked at the fleech of a shell,
And it—drapped on the haggis and dinged it tae hell.'
The sequel, so out of proportion to all the great issues of the war, yet served its good turn against the enemy, for:
And up from the trenches like lions they leapt,
And on through the nicht like a torrent they swept,
On. on wi' their bayonets thirstin' before!
On, on tae the foe wi' a rush and a roar!
And wild to the welkin their battle-cry rang,
And doon an the Boches like tigers they sprang;
And there wisna a man but had death in his ee,
For the thoot o' the haggis o' Private McPhee."
In "A Song of Winter Weather," the great physical misery endured in the war, aside from all its horror and
