THE WADSWORTH GAS ATTACK a n d RIO GRANDE RATTLER A M I L E F B m H E A D Q U A R T E R S ^ P A S S I N G W E A D Q U A B T E B 5 . MILITARY BOOKS MUST BE APPROVED, SAYS ORDER. The following advance copy of a W ar De partm e n t general order has 'been issued at division headquarters at Camp W adsworth for the information and guidance of all con cerned : “ U n til further orders, officers and enlisted men and other individual members of the service are prohibited from printing or dis tributing through publishing houses or other wise any pamphlets or books not previously published or in process of being published on any m ilitary subject whatever except as an approved government publication or as author ized by the war department. In order that there may not be duplication of effort in the preparation of publications and in order that there may be proper supervision and collabo ration in the use of inform ation and available records, departments, bureaus, corps, schools, etc., will not prepare nor distribute any m ilitary pamphlet or book w ithout first in forming the chief of the war college division, general staff, of the contemplated publication. Upon completion of the- publication, three copies will be furnished to the chief of the war college division, general staff.” . THE MISPLACED PRIVATE. You know the Misplaced Private. He is a relative of the fellow who, when in civil life, knew how to run the office better than the boss. He should be a general or a colonel, but by some oversight of the W ar Departm ent he is w asting away in the ranks. He says so himself. Or, if he doesn’t admit it openly, everything he does and says implies th a t he is a big calibre gun, being wastefully used as a side arm. Every thing is a grave mistake. This fellow has intim ate, first-hand dope that it is. If he were only where he thinks he should be—at the top—there would be im provements everywhere, in everything. He would shatter into bits the scheme of things entire and remold it nearer to Ms h e a r t’s desire. The food would be different, the plan of training would be changed, the discipline would be revised, the equipment would be of another sort. For the Misplaced P rivate never agrees. He always has something better, not for any other reason than th a t i t ’s his own—his idea, his opinion, his little single-track notion. His ideal is himself, exalted, lofty, superior. W h at a blessing th a t he is Misplaced, and not where he thinks he should be. His sort will always be lower than self-esteemed worth deserves, according to Ms estim ate. That assurance delivers us from the menace of The Misplaced Private. THE SHOT WAS SCATTERING. An amorous B ritish youth was being taken to task for his flirtations. “ Engaged to four girls at once! ’ ’ exclaimed his horrified uncle. *1 How do you explain such shameless con duct?” “ I don’t know ,” said the graceless nephew. “ Cupid must have shot me w ith a machine gun. ’ ’ THE GREATER NEED. Gipsey fortuneteller (seriously)—■ “ Let me warn you. Somebody’s going to cross your path. ’ ’ M o torist—“ D o n ’t you think you’d better warn the other chap?Everybody’s M aga zine. CHEERY, Bacon—“ Let me shake your hand, dear boy. This is one of the happiest days of your life .” Egbert—“ Y o u ’re too previous, old man. I ’m not to be m arried until to-morrow, you know. ’ ’ Bacon—“ T h a t’s w h at I say. This is one of the happiest days of your life .’ ’—Spokane Be view.