That was forty years before, but she had never forgotten her little Willie, for that was his name too, and she fancied our Willie was like him.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught, For auld lang syne!

HINDENBURG holds your British foes in baulk Prior to trampling them to pulp like vermin; Russia is at your mercyyou can walk Through her to-morrow if you so determine; There is no France to fight Your gallant WILLIE'S blade has "bled her white.

"A sort of 'weary Willie,'" commented James.