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Title: Mr. Punch on the Warpath - Humours of the Army, The Navy and The Reserve Forces
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Mr. Punch on the Warpath - Humours of the Army, The Navy and The Reserve Forces" ***

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    Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON

Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the
cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic
draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its
beginning in 1841 to the present day


       *       *       *       *       *


_General._ "Mr. de Bridoon, what is the general use of cavalry in modern

_Mr. de Bridoon._ "Well, I suppose to give tone to what would otherwise
be a mere vulgar brawl!"]

       *       *       *       *       *








       *       *       *       *       *


_Twenty-five Volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_



       *       *       *       *       *



Was there ever protean like MR. PUNCH! The little man is a wonder. In so
many guises do we encounter him--now as tourist, again as playgoer, as
huntsman, as artist, as bohemian, and equally as stay-at-home
philistine, on the bench and on the golf-links, ashore and afloat, where
not and how not?--that we need be in no wise surprised to find him on
the warpath. Is he not the official jester of a warlike people?

Of course it may be suggested that in the present book we do not have
what is entirely a record of his achievements on many a well-fought
field. There are not many echoes here of real red war, but the mimic
battle with its humours is well in evidence. The only recent experience
of the real thing leaves MR. PUNCH too sore of heart to say much about
it. But as we are all believers in the maxim "in time of peace prepare
for war," and as most of our time is peaceful, we are always
"preparing"--hence, perhaps, the reason why we are never ready. But
there is a deal of humour in the process, and it is for fun we look to
MR. PUNCH. Nor shall we look vainly here, for in the past Charles Keene
found many of his happiest subjects in the humours of military life and
volunteering, while to-day Mr. Raven-Hill, himself an enthusiastic
volunteer, ably carries on the tradition, and has many brilliant aiders
and abettors.

MR. PUNCH is, by turns, general, drum major, full private, cavalry man
and "kiltie," he is also A. B. when the occasion serves, and would be
horse-marine if necessary! At all events he has given the command, and
it's "Forward!"


       *       *       *       *       *




_Belgian Guide._ Ze brave Picton 'e fall in ze arms of _victoire_----

_Facetious Britisher._ Where was Lord Roberts?

_Guide (not to be done)._ Lord Robert 'e stand on _zis montagne_, and 'e
cry, "Hoop, Garde, and at zem!"

       *       *       *       *       *

The report that there are 46,719 total abstainers in the British Army is
welcome news, but what grieves recruiting officers is the number of
total abstainers from the British Army.

       *       *       *       *       *

CURIOUS MILITARY FACT.--The seat of war is always the spot where two
forces are standing up to one another.

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *

ADVICE FOR MARTINETS.--Military authorities should consider whether it
would not be advisable to abate a little of their solicitude for the
tidiness of a regiment, and pay somewhat more attention to its mess.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Interested Patron._ So I see you lost an arm in the battle.

_An Atkins ("back from the Front")._ Ay, sir, and my companion here
_(indicating Atkins No. 2)_ he lost a leg.

_Patron._ And your Colonel--in the same battle, eh?

_Atkins No. 2._ Ah! he was worse off than either of us, sir; he lost his

       *       *       *       *       *

ARMY CHAPLAINS.--Wouldn't they be all doubly serviceable in time of war
if they were all canons?

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Bluejacket (in charge of party of sightseers)._ "Here
Nelson fell."

_Old Lady._ "An' I don't wonder at it, poor dear. Nasty slippery place!
I nearly fell there myself!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


  The Black Watch will go night and day.
  The Black Watch can be depended upon in any climate.
  The Black Watch always keeps time.
  The Black Watch is never out of gear.
  The Black Watch wants no "winding up."
  The Black Watch can be warranted for any period.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Historian of the War (to Private of the Dublin Fusiliers)._ Now tell
me, my man, what struck you most at the battle of Colenso?

_P. of D. F._ Begorra, sorr, fwhat shtruck me mosht was the shower of
bullets that missed me.

       *       *       *       *       *

A MYSTERY FROM SHOEBURY.--When does the cannon ball? When the

       *       *       *       *       *

"Yes, my dear Lavinia," says Mrs. Ramsbotham, rather annoyed with her
niece, "I _do_ know perfectly well what a soldier's 'have-a-snack' is.
It is so-called because he carries his lunch in it. No, my dear, I am
not so ignorant as you may think."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Fond Mother (reading letter from only son at the
front)._ "Charlie says our Generals are perfect idiots!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


(_From the Note-book of a Male Impressionist_)

_How to represent the Army._--Long skirt of gauzy material, parasol tied
with tricolour ribands, silk blouse with epauletted sleeves and a
Crimean medal pinned on to a bunch of flowers. High-heeled shoes.
Regimental levée scarf worn over the left shoulder. Tiny cocked hat
attached to the hair by two long pins and a small silk flag.

_How to represent the Navy._--Short skirt decorated with brooch anchors.
Garibaldi with naval collar. Bag hanging from waist-belt with silver
letters H.M.S. _Coquette_. Hair built up _à la_ "Belle of New York"
surmounted with a small sailor hat decorated with streamers.

       *       *       *       *       *

SOMETHING MILITARY.--The officers of the Blankshire Cavalry possess,
individually and collectively, more money than those of any other
regiment in His Majesty's service. If this be so--we name no
names--these gallant heroes ought to be known as "The Tin Soldiers."

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *


_Convicted Contractor._ "Look here! I can't walk in these boots, and I
can't eat this food!"

_Warder Punch_. "Well, you've got to; it's what you supplied to the

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OUR NON-COMS.

_Orderly Sergeant (to officer)._ "Beg your pardon, sorr, but 'm wan
ration short. Who will I give it to?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE MILITARY PERIL.

_Old Lady (to member of signalling section, who has just commenced to
reply to a message)._ "Young man, if you think to alarm _me_ by wagging
those flags about, you are very much mistaken!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


That it takes you away from town in the dog days for a clear fortnight.

That, being farther away from London than Wimbledon, you escape the more
easily the attention of those who love tea, flirtation, and strawberries
and cream.

That there is plenty to do at the ranges with the rifle, and to see in
the neighbourhood on a bicycle.

That the conversation of your comrades is congenial, if slightly

That, after all, it is better to talk all day of scores, than of links
or tyres.

That if the life becomes too monotonous, a train can carry you back to
Waterloo in forty minutes.

That life under canvas is recommended by the doctors when it is subject
to certain favourable climatic conditions.

That, with the power of enjoying your outing to the end, or cutting it
short at the beginning, you can yet claim credit for your self-denial
and patriotism.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: CORONA FINIT OPUS.

_Mary Anne._ "When are they going to start this army reform they talk
such a lot about?"

_Private Atkins._ "Why bless your 'eart, _it's all
done_! Look at our new caps!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Private Sweeny (Highland regiment)._ "Colony bog, is it? Thin bedad! I
wish I was back in Tipperary!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Troop Sergeant-Major._ "It comes to this, captain, 'a mun e'ther hev' a
new jacket or knock off one o' my meals!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


SCENE--_Pall Mall. Enter officer in full uniform hurriedly. He is
stopped by messenger._

_Messenger._ Yes, sir?

_Officer._ I want to see the Commander-in-Chief at once.

_Messenger._ Very sorry, sir, but that gentleman who has just entered
the room is likely to be there for the next three hours. He came here
two minutes before your arrival.

_Officer._ But is a civilian allowed to take precedence of an officer in
full uniform?

_Messenger._ Beg your pardon, sir, but he is not a civilian; but an
officer like yourself.

_Officer._ And yet he is admitted in mufti! Why, here have I had to come
up from the country in full rig, being chaffed at the railway station,
grinned at by the cabman, and cheered by the crowd!

_Messenger._ Yes, sir. Very sorry you should have been inconvenienced,
sir, especially as it was unnecessary, sir!

_Officer._ Unnecessary! Why, doesn't the order come into force to-day
that all officers who appear in the War Office for any purpose
whatsoever must be attired in the proper uniform of their rank and

_Messenger._ No, sir. To-morrow, sir, the _second_ of April, is the
proper date. To-day, sir, is the _first_ of April.

_Officer._ And the first of April is surely the most appropriate date!
Quite the most appropriate date!

_Messenger._ Yes, sir!


       *       *       *       *       *

The War Office is taking steps to turn its surplus cavalrymen into foot
soldiers. We see nothing ridiculous in the idea--as some persons profess
to. We already have Mounted Infantry. Now we are to have Dismounted

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE HANDY MAN.--What he will have to become, if
recruiting for the navy continues to fall off, and many more new
battleships are constructed.]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Hector._ "Now then, young feller--who are you staring at?"

_Hodge._ "Whoy shouldn't I stare at yer? _I pays vor yer!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *


["It has been proposed that the kilt should be the uniform of the new
Irish Guards."--_Daily Paper._]

    What! take away the throusers off our pathriotic knees,
    As if we were a regiment of disordherly M.P.'s?
    Och! sorrer take the wicked thought, for histhory it teaches,
    An Oirishman is happiest when foightin' in the breaches.

    What! Wear them bits of pitticoats that blow about and twirl
    Around your blushin' knees? No, faith! Oi'm not a bally girl!
    No! Oi'm an Oirish souldier, an' me blood Oi've often spilt it,
    But though Oi'm willin' to be kilt, Oi'll die before Oi'm kilted.

       *       *       *       *       *

In order to check extravagance in the Cavalry, the authorities have
decided that "fines of money or wine are no longer to be levied on
marriage or promotion, _or in respect of any minor irregularities_." In
future the officer who commits the major irregularity of being promoted
will not need to say, with the _King of Denmark_, "O, my offence is

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "MANNING THE (BACK-)YARDS"

Chelsea, June, 1891. Four Bell(e)s.]

       *       *       *       *       *


DEAR FIELD-MARSHAL PUNCH.--In a telegram from the seat of war this week
I find the following obscure passage. "General Blank held the enemy's
main body whilst General Dash carried out his movements." Knowing your
skill in tactics, may I ask if you can explain this to me either
verbally or pictorially. Used in contradistinction to his main body, I
presume the enemy's "movements" must be his limbs, and if all four were
carried out by this barbarous general, it would be certainly a feat of
arms, and the movement might be said to be al-leg-ro. Nothing is said as
to whether the enemy survived this fearful operation depriving him of
his members, but it may be a case of a truncated despatch. Then, where
were the movements carried out to? If the presumption stated above be
correct, I infer it must have been to the region of limbo, but the army
in Flanders never practised such lopsided manoeuvres.

  Yours respectfully,


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "ALL'S WELL!"

_Cockney Volunteer_ (_on sentry go_). "Halt! Who goes there?"

_Rustic._ "It's all roight, man. Oi cooms along 'ere ev'ry maarnin'!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


"A good skirmisher, if there is no cover, should hide behind his

       *       *       *       *       *

_Elder Sister_ (_coming up_). "Kitty! what have you been saying to
Captain Coward? He looks dreadfully offended!"

_Kitty_ (_engaged to the Captain_). "I only told him that if he had gone
to the war and been shot, I should have been so proud of him!"

       *       *       *       *       *

WAR NEWS.--"Reports of Conflicts," _i.e._, "Conflicting Reports."

       *       *       *       *       *


  ["The War Office has decided to grant one rifle to every ten men joining
  the new rifle clubs, throughout the country."--_Daily Press._]


1. In face of the enemy the rifle must be fired as quickly as possible,
and then passed on to the next man.

2. No squabbling in the ranks, as to whose turn it is to shoot, shall
be allowed by the commanding officer, and his decision shall be final.

3. The other nine men, whilst awaiting their turn, must stand at
"attention," and scowl fiercely at the enemy.

4. Where the commanding officer, in his discretion, sees opportunity for
so doing, he shall employ several men simultaneously, to fire the
rifle--_i.e._ one to hold the rifle to his shoulder, a second to close
his left eye, and a third to pull the trigger. This plan would leave
only seven men out of ten unemployed.

5. The above-named seven would be at liberty to throw things at the
enemy whilst awaiting their turn for the rifle.

6. In actual warfare, the commanding officer may request the enemy to
wait a reasonable time whilst the solitary rifle is handed round, after
being fired off.

7. Whilst an attack is going on, the unemployed men of a company shall
not be allowed to leave the ranks to play, but should be encouraged to
take an intelligent interest in the shooting prowess of their solitary

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _North Cork Militia Man._ "Am I to shalute him, or no?
Begor. I wondher if he's a sarvan'-man or a giniral."]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Recruit._ "Look 'ere, mister, it ain't no good. This saddle won't go on
this 'ere 'orse. I got it over is 'ead all right, but I can't get 'is
legs through nohow!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


    ["A housewife will in future form part of the free kit of
    necessaries."--_Army Order._]

    It 'as long been my opinion, as a sodger and a man,
    That I couldn't get on proper, not without yer, Sairey Ann.
    Well, now 'ere's the latest horder--just yer take a read of it--
    That a housewife shall be a portion of the necessary kit.

    Oh, them horders! Ain't I cussed 'em! Oh, the shockin' words I've said!
    But now for once, my Sairey, I'm a-blessin' 'em instead.
    Yus, they misses pretty horfen, but at last they've made a hit,
    For yer going to be a portion of my necessary kit.

    They're to serve out housewifes gratis, an' I only 'opes, my pet,
    That they'll let us Tommies choose ourselves the gals we wants to get,
    'Twould be takin' of the gildin' off the gingerbread a bit
    If I got yer mar, for instance, in my necessary kit.

    But we'll 'ope the best, my Sairey, though yer can't for certain tell,
    And I ain't got much opinion of them parties in Pall Mall,
    But for once they've put a bullet in the bull's eye, I'll admit,
    If they makes my Sairey portion of my necessary kit.

       *       *       *       *       *

"ADVANCE NOTES" (_Military_).--The bugler's.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Boatswain_ (_to newly-joined cadet_). "Come, my little
man, you mustn't cry on board of one of His Majesty's ships of war. Did
your mother cry when you left?"

_Cadet._ "Yes, sir."

_Boatswain._ "Silly old woman! And did your sister cry?"

_Cadet._ "Yes, sir."

_Boatswain._ "Stupid little thing! And did your father cry?"

_Cadet._ "No, sir."

_Boatswain._ "'Ard-'earted old beggar!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE," &c.

_Fair Visitor_ (_with a thirst for military knowledge_). "So all the
kitchens are behind those buildings. How very interesting! And how many
pounds of meat do your men eat a day?"

_Gallant Major._ "Really--er--I've no--er--idea, I'm sure, don't

_Fair Visitor._ "But I thought you were in the provisional battalion!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Officer_ (_to Irish sentry on guard tent_). "Why don't
you face your proper front, sentry?"

_Sentry._ "Sure, yer honour, the tint's round. Divil a front it's got!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_General Bouncer_ (_on a round of inspection at Sandhurst_). "Augh! Can
you tell me what 'mess' this is?"

_Cadet._ "Well, they call it 'mutton,' but I wouldn't vouch for it!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A VOLUNTEER REVIEW (1865)

The portrait of Private O'Locker on finding his billet is at a teetotal

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: EXPLAINED.--_Auntie_ (_explaining morning manoeuvres of
His Majesty's Life Guards on their way to relieve guard at Whitehall_).
"Don't you see? There's two, and then there's one, and then there's the
whole lot--and then there's two more!"

    [Youthful niece sees.


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS.--_Jack_ (_singing at the top of
his voice_)--"There's only _one_ girl in the world for me!"--_Popular

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: [According to the _Daily Telegraph_ zebra mules have been
introduced into India by the Remount Department for military purposes.

     Would not their introduction--as above--into Whitehall lend a new
     and even more quaintly picturesque touch of grandeur to the scene?


       *       *       *       *       *



Astonishing lot of nonsense the _Daily Wire_ prints about military
affairs ... no, I do _not_ waste my time reading it. Any intelligent
citizen, Mary, is bound to take an interest in things of this sort. And
our army is rotten, madam--rotten to the core.... What? That reminds
you, shall Tomkins be told to pick the apples? As you please--I'm not
talking about apples. Just consider these manoeuvres, and the plain
common-sense lessons they teach you. First of all, a force lands in
England without opposition. There's a pretty state of things!... No, I
didn't say they _had_ interfered with us--but just think of the
disgrace! Not one general, madam, not one single general capable of
defending this unhappy country. And yet it is to support these expensive
frauds that I have to pay taxes!... Well, if he calls again, tell him
that I will attend to the matter. There's the rent and rates to be seen
to first, and goodness knows, with your housekeeping and Ethel's dress
bills--but I was talking about the army.

Incompetent profligates, that's what the officers are. What sort of life
do they lead? Getting up late, playing polo and hunting, eating
luxurious dinners, bullying respectable young men and ducking them in
horse-ponds--there's a life for you.... What do you know _about_ it,
Miss Ethel?... Captain Ponsonby told you? You can tell _him_ something
then. Tell him that Britons of common-sense--like myself--don't mean to
stand the present way of going on much longer. Drastic changes.... No,
I'm not trying to break the table, Mary ... drastic changes are
absolutely necessary.

First of all, there must be a clean sweep at the War Office. Men of
brains and common-sense are wanted there. Then we must organise a great
army, to guard the coast all round England. The man who will not serve
his time as a militiaman or volunteer is not worthy of the name of
English-man, and the fruit.... I told you once about those apples, I do
wish you wouldn't interrupt.... If they are not picked to-day they'll
have to wait for three weeks? Why? Tomkins can pick them next time he
comes. As I was saying, the militia system must be developed, and--eh?
Tomkins won't be here for three weeks? Got to go into camp for his
training? Well, I call it perfectly disgraceful! Here I pay a man high
wages to attend to my garden once a week, and then this miserable system
takes him away, at the most inconvenient time, to play at soldiers!...
If I have time to-night, Mary, I shall write a strongish letter to the
_Daily Wire_ on the subject.

       *       *       *       *       *

     SCENE--_Barrack Square, after inspection of arms, at which the
     Company's Commander has been examining his men's rifle-bores with
     the aid of the little reflector which is commonly dropped into the
     breach for this purpose._

_Private Atkins_ (_who has been checked for a dirty rifle_). 'Ere, it's
all bally fine! The orficer 'e comes an' looks down the barrel with a
bloomin' mikeroscope, and the privit soljer 'e 'as to clean 'is rifle
with 'is naked heye!

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *


    The illustrated papers oft with satisfaction grunt,
    When they print a pleasing portrait of "our artist at the front."
    Now here we have a picture of a sort we seem to lack.
    Which is to say, a portrait of "Our artist at the back".]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OUR RESERVES.--_A.-D.-C_. "What the deuce are you men
doing here right in the line of fire? Clear out at once! They're firing
ball cartridge, not blank."

_Unmoved Private_ (_who has found an excellent place from which to view
the attack practice_). "Ther' now. We was just a-zaying as we thought
'twas bullets by the zound of 'em!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: UNRECORDED HISTORY.--A review of the Royal (Sub)marines
near the Goodwin Sands. (_You could hardly "tell the Marines" in their
new sub-aqueous uniform._)]

       *       *       *       *       *


We are happy to announce that the Lords of the Admiralty have issued an
order for the distribution of medals to the officers and seamen who
served in the naval actions hereunder specified. We understand the
medals are of gold, set round with diamonds of the most costly
description. Great caution will be used in the distribution, to prevent
fraud in personating deceased officers, &c.

     A.D. 876. King Alfred's engagement with and destruction of the
                 Danish fleet.

       --1350. Great sea-fight between the English and the combined fleets
               of France and Spain.

       --1588. Destruction of the Spanish Armada.

       --1702. Admiral Benbow's engagement with the French.

       --1761. Siege and capture of Belleisle.

N.B. No officer or seaman will be entitled to a medal in respect of the
last-mentioned siege, unless he can satisfy their lordships that he was
"there all the while."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: RATHER SEVERE.

_Regular_ (_manoeuvring with Yeomanry_). "Got to give up my arms, have
I? Umph! This comes of going out with a lot of darned Volunteers."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: YEOMANRY MANOEUVRES. (FIRST DAY IN CAMP.)--_Officer._
"What's all this? What are you doing with that cask?"

_Trooper._ "Tent equipment, sir!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OUR REVIEW.--The colonel is wondering what manoeuvre he
ought to execute in the circumstances.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MANOEUVRES.--_Lieutenant Nobs_ (_just arrived_). "How
long will you take to drive me to the fort, Cabby?"

_Cabby._ "Ten minutes, Capting, by the shortcut through the halleys. But
the military allus goes the long way round, through the fashionable part
o' the town, yer honour, which takes an hour."

    [_Cabby gets his hour._


       *       *       *       *       *


_Officer_ (_examining a Mounted Infantry class_). "Well, I think you
understand about the hoof and what the frog is. Now, just tell me where
you would expect to find corns?"

_Mounted Infantry Recruit_ (_suspecting a catch_). "In the manger,

       *       *       *       *       *


_Musketry Instructor_ (_who wishes, by simple practical examples, to
bring the fact of the air's resistance and elasticity to the mind of
intelligent pupil, No. 450, Private Jones_), _loq._ "For instance, you
have seen an air-cushion, and felt that it contained something you could
not compress. What was it?"

_Private Jones_ (_readily_). "'Orse 'air, sir!"

    [_Enthusiastic instructor tries again._


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: DIVERSIONS OF DRILL (1860).

_Captain of Volunteers._ "Dress back, No. 3, do dress back. Comp'ny!
Fours! As y' were! No. 3, Mr. Buffles, how often am I to speak to you,
sir? Will you dress back, sir; further still, sir. You are not dressed
exactly yet, sir, by a----"

_Buffles_ (_goaded to madness_). "Bet yer five pounds I am--there!"]

       *       *       *       *       *



In the House of Commons, and elsewhere, the Secretary of State for War
is accustomed to have appeals made to him to assist in providing
facilities for the engagement and remunerative occupation of soldiers
and non-commissioned officers no longer on active service. We are glad
to notice, from the subjoined advertisement, which appeared in the
_Daily News_, that the public themselves are taking the matter in

     TWO GENERALS WANTED, as Cook and Housemaid for one lady. Light,
     comfortable situation. Good wages.--Apply, &c.

The advertiser, it will be observed, flies at higher rank than that
usually considered in this connection. But the situation is "light" and
"comfortable," with "good wages" pertaining, and she has some right to
look for applicants of superior station. We presume that on festive
occasions the gallant officers would be expected to don their uniforms.
Few things would be more striking than to see a general, probably
wearing his war medals, sweeping the front door-step, whilst through the
kitchen window a glimpse was caught of a brother officer, in full tog,
larding a pheasant.

       *       *       *       *       *

By the courtesy of the Admiralty H.M.S. _Buzzard_ has been anchored as a
permanent guardship of honour immediately opposite the approach to _Mr
Punch's_ offices in Bouverie Street. The compliment is much appreciated.

       *       *       *       *       *

Further changes in our Navy are announced. Chaplains are to be
abolished, and the navigating officers are to include in their duties
those of sky-pilots.

       *       *       *       *       *

A COCKNEY'S QUESTION ON THE NAVY.--Does a Port Admiral mean an Admiral
who is laid down for a long series of years, and not decanted for
service till he is very old?

       *       *       *       *       *

A JOVIAL CREW.--Jack Tars in a jolly-boat.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: IN THE SICK BAY.

_Fleet Surgeon._ "There doesn't seem much wrong with you, my man. What's
the matter?"

_A. B._ "Well, sir, it's like this, sir. I _eats_ well, an' I _drinks_
well, an' I _sleeps_ well; but when I sees a job of work--there, I'm all
of a tremble!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FIELD TRAINING NOTES.--(_Aldershot._) _General_ (_to
Irish recruit_). "Can you tell me how many species of pack animals there

(_No answer._)

_General._ "Well, do you know _any_ kind of pack animal?"

_Recruit_ (_inspired by recollection of many days' pack-drill_.) "Yes,
sorr. A defaulter, sorr!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Colonel_ (_who is taking a turn round to see how his
subs are getting along with their road sketching_). "You know, this
won't do. You should be able to _ride_ about the country, and make
sketches as you go."

_Jones_ (_not getting along at all nicely, thank you_). "Well, sir, if I
could do that, sir, I should chuck up the army, and join a circus!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "COULDN'T MAKE 'UN SPEAK."

_Infuriated C. O. 10th V. B. Mudfordshire Fusiliers_ (_who has ordered
bugler to sound the "Cease fire" several times without effect_). "Don't
you hear me, fellow? Why the deuce don't you sound the 'Cease fire' when
I tell you?"

_His Bugler._ "If ye plaze, zur, a've blowed a quid o' bacca down spout
t'ould trumputt, awn I can't make un speak!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


     ["Colonel Crofton, commanding the Eastern District, has decided
     that the 'quiff' is 'unsoldierly,' and 'disfiguring,' and has
     ukased its abolition. The 'quiff' is the forelock worn by Mr.
     Thomas Atkins."--_Pall Mall Gazette._]

_Letter from a Private in the British Army to a Private in the German

Dere Ole Sauerkraut,--Ow' 're yer going along? Jest a line from the
Eastern Distric' to tell yer that we've all got the fair 'ump. An' I'm
blest if our colonel ain't an' been pitchin' on our 'air. When we 'is in
the fightin' line they yells, "Keep your 'air on, boys!" but when we
gets 'ome, sweet 'ome, they says take it orf. There's 'air! I must tell
yer we wears a hartful curl on our forrids wot is knowed as a "quiff,"
and I give yer my word it's a little bit ov orl rite! Susan (with lots
o' cash as bein' only daughter of a plumber), wot I walks out with,
simply 'angs on to it with both 'ands, so to speak. Well, our colonel
says the "quiff" is "unsoldierly" and "disfiguring," and we 'ave got to
bloomin' well lop it orf, no hank. This busts my charnst with Susan.

  Yores melancholy-like,


       *       *       *       *       *

     ["The German uniform is to be changed to a grey-brown. The officers
     are particularly annoyed at the change, and complain that they
     might at least have been allowed to keep the bright buttons on
     their tunics. These are also to be dulled down to the new drab
     _régime_. Everything that is not strictly utilitarian--tassels,
     lace, and decorations--is to be banished from the
     parade-ground."--_Westminster Gazette._]

_Letter from a Private in the German Army to a Private in the British

Mein Gut Friend,--We haf the both trouble much got! You haf the
beautiful Susan _verloren_. I my Katrine am deprived of. Because why? I
was so schmart lookin' in mein regimentalen blue dat Katrine fell in
luff with me on first sighten and called me in ways of fun her "leetle
blue _teufel_"! But now, ach Himmel! she at me _cochet die snooken!_
"Cuts," as you say. I broken-ar-arted quite am. Because why? The Office
die Warren as us ordered to take off der blue regimentalen. We haf in
brown-grey to dress ourselves. Ah! dirdy, bad, rotten colour! And no
more ze _schon_ buttons to haf that the beating heart of Katrine
conquered. Farewell to Katrine! She brown ates.--Zo longen


       *       *       *       *       *

QUERY BY THE NAVY LEAGUE.--Does Brittania rule the waves, or does she
mean to waive her rule?

       *       *       *       *       *

_Commander._ What is your complaint against this boy?

_Bluejacket._ Well, sir, as I was a-walkin' arft, this 'ere boy, 'e up
an' calls me a bloomin' idjit. Now, 'ow would you like to be called a
bloomin' idjit, supposin' you wasn't one?

       *       *       *       *       *


_Motor Lieutenant, Motor Volunteer Corps_ (_to General in his charge_).
"I say, sir, if we"--(_bump!_)--"upset"--(_bang!_)--"shall I
get"--(_bump! bang!_)--"a military funeral too?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Perilous position of a gallant officer of Volunteers, on
a recent march, who (ever thoughtful for the comfort of his hired
charger) chooses the cooling waters of the ford in preference to the
bridge._ "Here! Hi! Help, somebody! Hold on! I mean halt! He won't come
out, and he wants to lie down, and I believe he's going to rear!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: NAVAL REVIEW (_From an Antique_)]

       *       *       *       *       *

TRAFALGAR DAY.--(_At the Board School._) _Teacher._ Now can any boy tell
me why Nelson's column was erected in Trafalgar Square?

_Johnny Grimes_ (_immediately_). Please, sir, to 'elp 'im up to 'eaven,
when 'e died in the arms of the Wictory.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Horse-buying "Expert."_ "Yes, it certainly does look more like a
'towel-horse' than anything else; still it'll have to do!"--Passed.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "How dreadfully stout the general is getting!"

"Yes, isn't it fortunate? Otherwise he wouldn't be able to wear all his

       *       *       *       *       *


    Augury from fowls of air
      Back to Tuscan gramarye dates.
    Birds in February pair:
      Now then, skippers, choose your mates.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Military Man._ "Well! What are yer a starin' at--ain't yer never seed a
sodger before?"]

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A fragment of a Military Romance, to be published a few years hence_)

     ["The long-proposed introduction of motor-cars into the army for
     transport purposes is on the point of accomplishment."--_The

... "COMRADES!" cried the proud general, addressing his troops (standing
around him in the circular square ordered by the latest drill book), "at
last we are about to reap the reward of our exertions. Thanks to our
trusty motor-cars, we have traversed the desert at an average speed of
twenty-five miles an hour. Our casualties have been few and
insignificant. A dozen or so of the engines blew up, but not more than
fifty men perished by these accidents. We have, indeed, to mourn the
loss of some of the 75th Dragoons, whose motor-car went wrong in its
steering, and rushed at express speed into the middle of a lake. And not
a few of our heroes have been arrested by the native police on the
charge of furious driving, with the result that they now languish in
dungeons, awaiting bail. But what are these trifles, compared with the
glory that will soon be ours? The enemy are now within thirty miles of
us--a distance which, with a little extra pressure, we can cover in an
hour. So, forward! Mount motor-cars! Tie down the safety-valves! Seize
starting levers! Now, when I give the word! Are you read----"

At this moment a grey-haired officer interrupted him.

"Alas, sir!" he cried, "we cannot advance! It is impossible!"

"Impossible?" echoed the general, in amazement. "Why?"

"For the very good reason that--_we've run out of oil!_"

A loud groan burst from the army on hearing the dreadful news; the voice
of the general himself shook as he replied:

"Then, for once, we must ride."

"You forget, sir," said the other, "that nowadays we have no horses.
Shall we--march?"

"No!" cried the intrepid leader. "March? Never! Death before dishonour!
Men, your general may have to die a rather unpleasant death; but never,
in this scientific age, never will he insult you by suggesting that you
should walk!" and rapturous cheers from the army greeted this noble
utterance. But just when hope was dying in every breast, and the only
possible course seemed to be to wait patiently until the enemy attacked
and destroyed them, a small motor-car with red-hot bearings whizzed
through the crowd and stopped before the general. Need we mention that
its driver was none other than Henry de Plantagenet? (He's my hero, of
course, and he went out scouting on his own account--as heroes do--in
the last chapter.)

"Sir," he cried triumphantly, "I have news, great news!"

"Well?" said the general.

"Yes, it _is_ a well, a well of natural petroleum, in fact, which I have
discovered not half-a-mile away!"

The general clasped his hand, while the army roared themselves hoarse
with delight. And, an hour later, only a faint flicker of dust on the
horizon showed where the expedition was scurrying towards the doomed

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE PENALTY OF FAME

_Small Boy_ (_with shrill voice_).

    "'Fightin'--with--the Sev'nth--Royal Fu-siliers--
                The famous Fu-siliers--
                The fightin' Fu-siliers,'" &c., &c.

_Irritable War-Office Clerk._ "Con-found the Seventh Royal Fusiliers!
I'm sick of 'em! Blest if I don't pack 'em off to the Channel Islands!"

    [_Does so._


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CASE OF TU QUOQUE.--_She._ "How do you like my new

_Sutherland Highlander._ "By Jove, what extraordinary headgear you women
do wear!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THAT TYRANT MAN.

_Thomas the Drummer._ "Well, Emmar, you needn't take on so. I loves you
stright enough; but 'angin' round the barrick gates, askin' for me, is
the sort of thing I will not 'ave!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Guardsman._ "I just told one of those Volunteer officers that he must
_not_ come on parade with his pockets unbuttoned, and the fellow had the
demmed impudence to say he was sorry he couldn't oblige me, but his
corps hadn't buttons!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Riding Master._ "I thought you said you could ride?"

_Candidate for the Imperial Yeomanry._ "Ye-yes. But you don't get arf a
chance 'ere, the corners are so bloomin' sharp!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_How to make a Recruit._--Take a raw lad from the country (the younger
the better) and fill his head with military froth. Add a shilling and as
much beer as will be covered by the bounty-money. Let him simmer, and
serve him up thick before a magistrate the next morning. Let him be
sworn in, and he will then be nicely done.

_How to make a Soldier._--Take your recruit, and thrust him roughly into
a depôt. Mix him up well with recruits from other regiments until he has
lost any _esprit de corps_ which may have been floating upon the surface
when he enlisted. Now let him lie idle for a few years until his
strength is exhausted, and then, at ten minutes' notice, pack him off to

_Another Method._--Take your recruit, and place him at headquarters. Let
him mix freely with all the bad characters that have been carefully kept
in the regiment, until his nature has become assimilated to theirs. For
three years pay him rather less than a ploughboy's wages, and make him
work harder than a costermonger's donkey. Your soldier having now
reached perfection, you will turn him out of the service with economical

_How to make a Deserter._--A very simple and popular dish. Take a
soldier, see that he is perfectly free from any mark by which he may be
identified, and fill his head with grievances. Now add a little
opportunity, and you have, or, rather, you have not, your deserter.

_Another and Simpler Method._--Take a recruit, without inquiring into
his antecedents. Give him his kit and bounty-money and close your eyes.
The same recruit may be used for this dish (which will be found to be a
fine military hash) any number of times.

_How to make an Army._--Take a few scores of infantry regiments and
carefully proceed to under-man them. Add some troopers without horses
and some batteries without guns. Throw in a number of unattached
generals, and serve up the whole with a plentiful supply of control

_Another and easier Method._--Get a little ink, a pen, and a sheet of
paper. Now dip your pen in the ink, and with it trace figures upon your
sheet of paper. The accompaniment to this dish is usually hot water.

_How to make a Panic._--Take one or two influential newspapers in the
dead season of the year, and fill them with smartly written letters. Add
a few pointed leading articles, and pull your army into pieces. Let the
whole simmer until the opening of Parliament. This once popular mess is
now found to be rather insipid, unless it is produced nicely garnished
with plenty of Continental sauce, mixed with just an idea of invasion
relish. With these zests, however, it is always found to be toothsome,
although extremely expensive.

       *       *       *       *       *

STRIKE OF SEAMEN.--There is one description of strike in which we hope
our sailors will never engage--that of their colours.

       *       *       *       *       *

A LAND SWELL.--A Lord of the Admiralty.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE REVIEW AT SPITHEAD.--It is wonderful that this affair was not a sad
mistake; for there is no doubt that the reviewers were all at sea.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SO SYMPATHETIC! _Young Yeomanry Officer_ (_airing his
exploits in the war_). "And among other things, don't you know, I had a
horse shot under me."

_Fair Ignoramus._ "Poor thing! What was the matter with it?"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Soldier._ "Now, then! You must move away from here."

_Rude Boy._ "Ah! But _you_ mustn't, old feller!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: EUPHEMISTIC.

_Colonel._ "I've never met with a smarter drill than yourself, sergeant,
or one more thoroughly up to all his duties; but you've one most
objectionable habit, and that is your constant use of bad language, and
swearing at the men."

_Sergeant._ "Sir, perhaps I am a little sarcashtic!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_First A.B._ "Oh lor, Bill, my big toe!--f-f-f--it's something horful
this morning." (_Distant whistle._) "Oh yus, that's right! Pipe away! I
see hus a clearin' decks for haction, don't you, Bill?"

_Second A.B._ "No fear! Phew-f-f-f. 'Ere, oh I say, mate, pass us the
bicarbonick o' potass, for 'evin's sake!"

     ["The sailor is allowed 60 ounces of moist food per day, and this
     is of the wrong kind for a fighting man. This he eats at five
     different meals. He has about three times as much bread as he
     should have, and about half as much meat. It is a splendid diet to
     induce obesity, gout, and laziness."--_Dr. Yorke Davies in the
     "Daily Telegraph."_]

       *       *       *       *       *

MRS. RAMSBOTHAM tells us her youngest nephew has just become a
midshipman in the Royal Navy, and she has given him one of the best
aromatic telescopes that could be bought for money.

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *

NAVAL PROMOTION.--"Chaplain: Rev. M. Longridge, B.A., to
_Glory_."--_Daily Mail._

       *       *       *       *       *

FRESH MEAT FOR THE NAVY.--The chops of the Channel.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "We are unanimously of opinion that the British fleet
should be put as soon as possible on a firmer and more stable basis!!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Forecast of the Future_)

     SCENE.--_A lecture-chamber at a military college._ Lecturer
     _discovered behind a table_. Students _taking notes_.

_Lecturer._ I have now shown you a colonel and a major. I will disappear
for a few seconds, and then appear as a captain.

    [_Dives under his table._

_First Student._ What's the lecture about? I got in too late for the

_Second Student._ It's on "the Militia."

_Lecturer_ (_emerging from his table in fresh regimentals._) Now, my
men, you must regard me as your friend as well as your commander. I am
responsible for your well-being. (_Applause, amidst which the_ Lecturer
_resumes his ordinary clothing._) And now, gentlemen, it is unnecessary
to give you a sketch of a subaltern, as that genus of the army officer
must be known to all of you. And before I go I would be glad to answer
any questions.

_First Student._ Thank you, sir. May I ask why you have been giving this
interesting entertainment?

_Lecturer._ Certainly. To show you, gentlemen, your duty in the
Militia. You will be expected to play many parts.

_First Student._ But surely not simultaneously?

_Lecturer._ Why, certainly. The old constitutional force is so
undermanned in the commissioned ranks, that if the youngest subaltern of
a battalion cannot do equally well for colonel, major and captain, the
chances are that--well, I would be sorry to answer for the consequences.
And now, gentlemen, we will consider how a ballot for soldiering can be
established without seriously affecting the cherished rights of the

    [_Scene closes upon an unsuccessful attempt to solve the problem._


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Captain Smythe_ (_a good soldier, but no society man, to
his hostess_). "I have to thank you, Mrs. Brown, for an evening which
has been--er--_after two years on the veld_, most enjoyable."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "NONE O' YOUR LARKS" (1861)

_Gigantic Navvy._ "Let's walk between yer, gents; folks 'll think you've
took up a deserter."]

       *       *       *       *       *


A Memorandum containing a list of rules to be observed during the autumn
manoeuvres has just been issued. By some strange mistake, the
following regulations (which evidently must have appeared in the
original document) have been omitted. They are now published for the
first time:--

1. Recruits of tender years will not be allowed to draw their bayonets.
This rule does not apply to fine growing lads of twelve years old.

2. Buglers will not sound their bugles except by special command of
Generals of Divisions. The above-mentioned officers are reminded (for
their instruction and guidance) that copper is expensive and should be
used as little as possible.

3. Boots will not be worn by the infantry on any march exceeding three
miles. Commanding officers are cautioned that shoe-leather has recently
greatly increased in value.

4. In the event of two members of the umpire staff being unable to come
to an agreement about the respective colours of black and white, they
will "draw lots;" _id est_, one of them will throw into the air a coin
of the realm, and before the coin is able to reach the ground, the other
will give the word either "heads" or "tails." The choice of cries will
be optional. Gold coins will be used by general officers, silver by
field officers, and halfpence by all other ranks.

5. Dismounted cavalry will not be allowed to pursue retiring infantry on
horseback, unless so ordered by the Commanding Officers of the 83rd
(County of Dublin), 85th (the King's County Down), the Connaught
Rangers, and the Royal Irish Fusiliers.

6. Should a regiment of infantry halt within two hundred yards of six
hostile batteries of artillery to watch the practice, or for any other
purpose of instruction, one-tenth of the battalion will be marched to
the rear, and will be considered _hors de combat_ during the remainder
of the campaign.

7. A village containing one pioneer, one drummer (or bugler) and a
quarter-master-sergeant, will be considered fully garrisoned. It will be
seen that rules of war are to be followed in every particular, down to
the very smallest details, by all concerned in the campaign.

8. As in the previous series of autumn manoeuvres, _at least_, "five
minutes' notice" will be given when the army is required to march five
miles, or to perform any other military duty requiring zeal, steadiness,
and an intimate acquaintance with "Field Exercises, Edition of 1874,
Part I."

       *       *       *       *       *

SOLVED AT LAST.--_Jawkins._ Why do they always call sailors "tars"?

_Pawkins._--Because they're so accustomed to the pitching of the ship.

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Bluejacket_ (_who has been hauled twice round the sick
bay, yelling inarticulately, by the surgeon with the forceps_). "Why,
you 'ad me by the tongue!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Irritable Captain._ "Your barrel's disgracefully dirty, sir, and it's
not the first time; I've a good mind to----"

_Private Flannigan._ "Shure, sor, I niver----"

_Captain_ (_Irish too_). "Silence, sir, when you spake to an officer!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE ROYAL SALUTE.--_Officer in charge of battery_ (_in a
fever lest the time of firing should be a second late_). "Why, what are
you about, No. 6? Why don't you serve the sponge?"

_Bombardier McGuttle._ "Hoots toots! Can na' a body blaw their nose?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TACTICS.

_Instructor._ "Well, gentlemen, I have endeavoured to explain to you the
theoretical principles governing the movements of the various portions
of a combined force; but I must warn you, that, in practice on an
ordinary field-day, you will probably find it result in hopeless
confusion; while on active service it will be ten times worse!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: CONCLUSIVE!

_Volunteer Colonel_ (_swell brewer_). "I'm afraid, Mr. Jenkins, you had
been indulging in potations that were too strong for you!"

    [_Private J. was being "called over the coals" for insubordination at
    the inspection._]

_Private Jenkins_ (_who is still wearing his bayonet on the wrong
side_). "Oh, I couldn't have been drunk, sir, for I never had no more
than one pint o' your ale all the blessed day!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Register-keeper._ "Major Jones first to count. A

_Major Jones._ "I say, sergeant, that's almost an Irish bull, I fancy!"

_Register-keeper._ "No, sorr, just a simple English miss!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OUR YEOMANRY.

_Sergeant Major._ "Number three, where's your sword?"

_Recruit_ (_who finds practice very different from theory_). "On the
ground. Carn't see 'un?"]

       *       *       *       *       *



    SCENE.--_The drawing-room of the Colonel's quarters, decorated with
    trophies from many lands and water-colour sketches. Mrs. Bulkwise, the
    Colonel's wife, a tall, broad and assertive lady, is giving tea to Mrs.
    Lyttleton-Cartwright, with the stamp of fashion upon her, and Mrs.
    Karmadine, who has a soul for art--both ladies of the regiment. Colonel
    Bulkwise, a small and despondent man whose hair is "part-worn" gazes
    morosely into the fire_.

_Mrs. Bulkwise_ (_waving a tea cup_). As surely as woman is asserting
her right to a place in medicine, in law, and in the council, so surely
will she take her proper place in the control of the army.

_Mrs. Lyttleton-Cartwright._ What a lovely costume one could compose out
of the uniform. I've often tried Jack's tunic on.

_Mrs. B._ (_severely_). The mere brutal work of fighting, the butchery
of the trade, would still have to be left to the men; but such matters
as require higher intelligence, keener wit, tact, perseverance, should
be, and some day _shall_ be, in our hands.

_Mrs. Karmadine._ And the beauty and grace of life, Mrs. Bulkwise.
Surely we women, if allowed, could in peace bring culture to the
barrack-room, and garland the sword with bay wreaths?

_Mrs. B._ Take the War Office. I am told that the ranks of the regiments
are depleted of combatant officers in order that they may sit in offices
in Pall Mall, and do clerical work indifferently. Now, I hold that our
sex could do this work better, more cheaply, and with greater dispatch.

_Mrs. L.-C._ "Pall-Mall" would be such an excellent address.

_Mrs. B._ The young men, both officers and civilians, who are employed
waste, so I understand, the time of the public by going out to lunch at
clubs and frequently pause in their work to smoke cigars and discuss the
odds. Now a glass of milk, or some claret and lemonade, a slice of
seed-cake, or some tartlets, brought by a maid from the nearest A. B. C.
shop would satisfy all our mid-day wants.

_Mrs. L.-C._ And I never knew a woman who couldn't work and talk bonnets
at the same time.

_Mrs. C._ Just a few palms--don't you think, Mrs. Bulkwise?--in those
dreary, _dreary_ rooms, and some oriental rugs on the floors, and a
little bunch of flowers on each desk would make life so much easier to

    [_Colonel Bulkwise murmurs something unintelligible_.

_Mrs. B._ What do you say, George?

_Colonel B. (with sudden fierceness)._ I said, that there are too many
old women, as it is, in the War Office.

_Mrs. B._ George!

    [_The colonel relapses again into morose silence._

_Mrs. B._ The Intelligence Department should, of course, be in our

_Mrs. L.-C._ I should just love to run about all the time, finding out
other people's secrets.

_Mrs. B._ And the Clothing Department calls for a woman's knowledge. The
hideous snuff-coloured garments must be retained for warfare, but with
the new costume for walking out and ceremonial I think something might
be done.

_Mrs. L.-C._ The woman who makes my frocks is as clever as she can be,
and always has her head full of ideas for those sort of things.

_Mrs. C._ Michel Angelo did not disdain to design the uniform of the
Swiss Guard. Perhaps Gilbert, or Ford, or Brock might follow in the
giant's footsteps.

_Col. B._ You ladies always design such sensible clothes for yourselves,
do you not?

    [_He is frozen into silence again._

_Mrs. B._ And the education of young officers. From a cursory glance
through my husband's books on law, topography and administration, I
should say that there are no military subjects that the average woman
could not master in a fortnight. Strategy, of course, comes to us by
intuition. The companionship and influence of really good women on
youths and young men cannot be over-rated, and the professors both at
the Staff College and at the Military Academy should be of our sex.

_Mrs. L.-C._ I always love the boys; but I think some of the staff
college men are awfully stuck up.

_Mrs. B._ Now as to the regiment. The mess, of course, should be in our

_Mrs. L.-C._ How ripping. The guest-nights would be lovely dinner
parties, the ante-room we'd use for tea, and the band should always play
from 5 to 6. We'd have afternoon dances every Thursday, and turn the men
out once a week and have a dinner all to ourselves to talk scandal.

    [_The colonel groans._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "REGIMENTAL ORDERS"!

_Volunteer Captain._ "Ah, Sergeant Jones--didn't I send you an order to
be at headquarters on Monday, at nine o'clock, with a corporal and six
men for duty?"

_Sergeant._ "Yes, sir. But I think if there was a little more 'request',
and a little less 'order', it would be (_a-hem_)--better!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "BOBS"

An Indian idol--as worshipped by Mr. Thomas Atkins.

(_The property of the British nation._)]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "BOBS" AS A BOBBIE

     ["CORONATION CLAIMS.--There being no succession to certain offices,
     the appointment thereto rests with His Majesty, and the following
     are regarded as probable candidates:--Lord High Constable--The Earl
     Roberts," &c.--_Vide Daily Mail_, Nov. 19, 1901.]


       *       *       *       *       *


"Curious way that boy has of salutin'. Don't believe it's correct!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE DOG!--_(A romance of real life.)_

_The Gallant Major._ "I beg a thousand pardons for the apparent liberty
I take as an entire stranger, but may I make so bold as to ask you, is
not this one of that wonderful breed of black or Chinese pugs?"

_The Pretty Lady (most condescendingly)._ "Yes, you are perfectly right,
and if I am not mistaken, you are Major McBride, of the Ninety-ninth

     [_From that moment they became fast friends, and within the next
     three months there appeared in the "Morning Post," 'A marriage has
     been arranged between Major McBride, of the Ninety-ninth Hussars,
     and Mrs. Bellairs,' &c., &c._


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "ONE OF OUR CONQUERORS."

_Imperial Yeoman._ "Much obliged if you would pick up my sword for me."]

       *       *       *       *       *


     ["It has been decreed in several line battalions that in future no
     soldier will be allowed to walk arm-in-arm in the street with a
     female."--_Daily Paper._]


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "Oh! I say! 'E 'as got eyes after all!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Doctor._ "Don't feel well, eh? Appetite all right?"

_Tommie._ "Eat like a wolf, sir."

_Doctor._ "Sleep well?"

_Tommie._ "As sound as a dog, sir."

_Doctor._ "Oh, you'd better see the vet.!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Lubber._ "I say, Jack, do you know why they've painted the ships grey
in time of _peace_?"

_Jack._ "I s'pose 'cos it's a _neutral_ tint!"

    [_But the other didn't laugh. He intended making that witticism


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SCENE ON BOARD H.M.S.----

"I say, why am I like the Queen's chief cook? Do you give it up?"


"Because I am in a high cool-and-airy (_culinary_) position."

    [_Astonished cadet nearly falls from the yard_.

You young monkey, how dare you joke up in the air like that? However, we
look over it this time.--_Punch_]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: An economical mode of putting troops into white

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Aldershot Edition_)

1. Never recognise your enemy when you meet him on the road, in case you
might be compelled to take him prisoner and so cause unpleasantness and
unseemly disturbance.

2. Advanced guards should walk quietly and without ostentation into the
enemy's main body, and be careful never to look behind bushes, trees, or
buildings for an unobtrusive cyclist patrol. To do so might cause the
enemy annoyance.

3. An advance guard, if surrounded, will surrender without noise or
alarm. To make any would disturb the main body, who like to march in a
compact and regular formation.

4. Never allow your common-sense to overcome your natural modesty so far
as to induce you to report to a superior officer the presence of the
enemy in force. You will only acquire a reputation for officiousness by
doing so.

5. Always attack an enemy in front. It is unsportsmanlike and
unprofessional to attack the flanks.

6. When retiring before an attack maintain as close a formation as the
ground will admit of, and retire directly upon the main infantry
support. You will thus expose yourselves to the fire of both your own
friends and the enemy, and as blank cartridge hurts nobody it will add
to the excitement of the operation.

7. It is more important to roll your cloaks and burnish your bits than
to worry about unimportant details of minor tactics.

8. Since a solitary horseman never attracts the enemy's attention, be
careful to take up a position in compact formation; to do so by files
might escape observation.

9. When being charged by the enemy, go fours about and gallop for all
you are worth; it is just as agreeable to be prodded in the back as in
the chest, and gives the enemy more satisfaction. To extend, or work to
the flanks, might deprive your enemy of useful experience.

10. Never cast your eyes to the direction from which the enemy is not
expected, as that is the usual direction of his real attack, and it is
not polite to spoil the arrangement of your friend the enemy.

11. Lastly, remember that the best motto for Yeomanry Troopers is "Point
de Zèle."

       *       *       *       *       *


_A Peace Song_ (1859)

(_Composed and volunteered by Mr. Punch_)

    Some talk of an invasion
      As a thing whereat to sneeze,
    And say we have no occasion
      To guard our shores and seas:
    Now, _Punch_ is no alarmist,
      Nor is moved by idle fears,
    But he sees no harm that we all should arm
      As Rifle Volunteers!

    Let sudden foes assail us,
      'Tis well we be prepared;
    Our Fleet--who knows?--may fail us,
      Nor serve our shores to guard.
    For self-defence, then, purely,
      Good reason there appears,
    To have, on land, a force at hand
      Of Rifle Volunteers!

    To show no wish for fighting,
      Our forces we'd increase;
    But 'tis our foes by frighting
      We best may keep at peace,
    For who will dare molest us
      When, to buzz about their ears,
    All along our coast there swarms a host
      Of Rifle Volunteers!

    Abroad ill winds are blowing,
      Abroad war's vermin swarm;
    What _may_ hap there's no knowing,
      We may not 'scape the storm.
    Athirst for blood, the Eagles
      May draw our dove's nest near;
    But we'll scare away all birds of prey
      With our Rifle Volunteers!

    No menace we're intending,
      Offence to none we mean,
    We arm but for defending
      Our country and our Queen!
    To British hearts 'tis loyalty
      'Tis love her name endears:
    Up! then, and form! shield her from harm
      Ye Rifle Volunteers!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: The above is _not_ a war picture. It merely represents an
incident in the too realistic scouting manoeuvres of the Blankshire
Yeomanry. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Timmins thought at least the country had
been invaded.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _De Voeux._ "My grandfather, you know, lived till he
was ninety-eight."

_Trevor Carthew._ "Well, my grandmother died at the age of

_Brown._ "In _my_ family there are several who are not dead yet!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Small Boys_ (_to Volunteer Major in temporary command_). "I say,
guv'nor--hi! Just wipe the blood off that 'ere sword!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FORE AND----

_Sergeant._ "Back a little, number five!"]


_Sergeant._ "Up a little, number five!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OUR RESERVES!

_Aide-de-Camp (at the review)._ "What are you doing here, sir? Where's
your regiment?"

_Party on the Grass._ "Shure I don' know. Bu-r I don't rec'nise your
'thority, gov'nour!"

_Aide-de-Camp (furious)._ "What the deuce d'you mean, sir? You're a
Volunteer, aren't you?"

_Party on the Grass._ "_(Hic!)_ Norabirofit!--Was jus' now--bu-r I've
reshigned 'n cons'quence--temp'ry indishposition!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "SUMMING UP."

_Captain._ "What's the charge, sergeant?"

_Sergeant._ "This time it's drunkenness, sir. But this man is the most
troublesome fellow in the regiment, sir. He goes out when he likes, and
comes in when he likes, and gets drunk when he likes--in fact, he might
be a horficer!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Brown, Jones, and Robinson, discovered discussing the stats of the Navy
in a first-class compartment._

_Brown._ My dear fellows, I can assure you we are in a terrible
condition of unpreparedness. If France was to declare war to-morrow we
should be nowhere--absolutely nowhere!

_Jones._ You mean, of course, with Russia.

_Robinson._ Or was it Italy?

_Brown._ It doesn't matter which. I fancy that France alone could tackle
us. Why, a man was telling me the other day that if Gibraltar was
seized--as it might be--we should not get a ship-load of wood for
months--yes, for months!

_Jones._ But what has Gibraltar to do with it?

_Robinson._ Why, of course, it guards our approaches to the Suez Canal.

_Brown._ Oh, that's only a matter of detail. But what we want is a
hundred millions to be spent at once. Cobden said so, and I agree with

_Jones._ But upon what?

_Robinson._ Oh, in supporting the Sultan, and subsidising the Ameer.

_Brown._ I don't think that sort of thing is of much importance. But if
we had a hundred millions (as Mr. Cobden suggested), we might increase
our coaling stations, and build new ships, and double the navy, and do
all sorts of things.

_Jones._ But I thought we were fairly well off for coaling stations, had
lots of ships on the stocks, and, with the assistance of our merchant
marine, an ample supply of good sailors.

_Robinson._ That's what all you fellows say! But wait till we have a
war, then you will see the fallacy of all your arguments. No, we should
buy the entire fleet of the world. There should be no other competitor.
Britannia should _really_ rule the waves.

_Brown._ Yes, yes. Of course; but after all, that is not the important
matter. What we want is a hundred millions available to be spent on
anything and everything. And it's no use having further discussion
because that was Cobden's view of it, and so it is mine.

_Jones._ Where is it to come from--out of the rates?

_Brown and Robinson_ (_together_). Certainly not.

_Jones._ Or the taxes?

_Brown and Robinson_ (_as before_). Don't be absurd.

_Jones._ Well, it must come from somewhere! Can you tell me where?

_Robinson._ Why should we?

_Brown._ Yes, why should we? Even Cobden didn't go so far as that,
and----But, here we are at the station.

    [_Invasion of porters, and end of the conversation._

       *       *       *       *       *


_Extract from Private Letter.--April 1._

"I'm afraid Milly and I have put our respective feet in it this time. We
thought we would test our capacities at hospital work, and attach
ourselves to pa's regiment--of course, without telling pa--and were
getting along quite nicely with a soldier who wasn't very well, when we
met pa and the General and his regiment. They took away the patient, and
judging from pa's looks, there's a warm time coming."]

       *       *       *       *       *


The new helmet as ordinarily   | The same, as worn on
worn.                          | motor duty.

_Directions:_--Simply unhook the lower portion of the helmet; thereby
extending the collapsible weather-and dust-proof mask. Admirable also as
a disguise.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FLAG WAGGING

_Sergeant of Signallers._ "What ai's Murphy to-day? He don't seem able
to take in a thing!"

_Private Mulvaney._ "Shall I signal to 'im, 'Will ye 'ave a drink?'?"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TU QUOQUE.

_Army Candidate._ "And I only muffed one thing in the geography paper.
Couldn't for the life of me think where the Straits of Macassar were!"

_Fond Father._ "Oh, I say, you ought to have known that. Fancy--the
Straits of Macassar!"

_Army Candidate._ "Well, I didn't, anyhow. By the way, where are they,

_Fond Father._ "Oh--where are they? Oh--er--they're--well, they're----
but don't you think we'd better go to lunch?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A HORSE-MARINE

_Club Wag._ "Well, good-night, Admiral."

_Warrior._ "There's a stupid joke. Admiral! Can't you see my spurs?"

_Wag._ "Oh, I thought they were your twin screws."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Sentry_ (_on the simultaneous approach of two persons_).
"Who goes there?--two ways at once!"]

       *       *       *       *       *




     SCENE.--_The canteen of the Rutlandshire Regiment, at Downboro', an
     airy, plastered hall with high windows. A bar at one end is backed
     by a rampart of beer barrels. A double line of barrack tables and
     benches runs down the room. The hour is 5 p.m. At one of the tables
     sits Mr. W. Wilson, late Private in the regiment, in all his glory
     of a new check suit with an aggressive pattern, a crimson tie, a
     horseshoe pin, an aluminium watch-chain, a grey "bowler" and a
     buttonhole of violets. Privates W. and G. Smith, P. Brady, E. Dudd
     and other men of H. company are at the table, or standing near it._

_Mr. Wilson (passing round a great tin measure containing beer, after
taking a preliminary pull himself)._ Of course I do 'ear more, being in
the smoke, than you 'ear down in this provincial 'ole; and there's
generals and statesmen and such-like comes and stays at our place, and
when they gets tied up in a knot over any military question, as often as
not they says, "Let's ask Wilson, the under-gardener. 'E's a
hex-military man; 'e's a 'ighly intellergent feller"; and I generally
gets them out of their difficulty.

_Pte. W. Smith._ D'ye know anything about this army reform?

_Mr. Wilson (with lofty scorn)._ Do I know anything about it?

_Pte. G. Smith._ D'ye think they're going to make a good job of it?

_Mr. Wilson._ Naaw. And why? Becos they're goin' the wrong wai to work.
They're arskin the opinion of perfeshernal hexperts and other sich
ignoramuses, and ain't goin' to the fountain 'ead. Oo's the backbone of
the English service?

_Pte. P. Brady._ The Oirish private.

_Mr. Wilson._ Right you are, my 'Ibernian--always subsitooting British
for Hirish--and the British compiny is the finest horganisation in the
world. Give the private a free 'and and a rise of pay, and make the
compiny the model of the army, and then yer can put all the hexperts
and all the Ryle Commissions and their reports to bed.

_Pte. Dudd._ As how?

_Mr. Wilson._ As 'ow, yer old thick head? It's as plain as a pike-staff.
Taike this question of responsibility. When some one comes a bloomer,
and the paipers all rise 'ell, the civilian toff, 'oos a sort of a
commander-in-chief in a Sunday coat and a chimney-pot 'at, 'e says, "It
ain't me. Arsk the real commander-in-chief," and the feeld-marshal 'e
says, "Arsk the hadjutant-general," and the hadjutant-general, 'e says,
"Arsk the hordnance bloke." Now in the compiny there ain't none of that.
If the colonel goin' round at kit inspection finds the beds badly made
up, or jags and sight-protectors deficient, or 'oles in the men's socks,
'e goes fierce for the captin' and threatens to stop 'is leave; and the
captin' don't say, "Oh, it's the hadjutant, or the quarter-master, or
the chaplain what's to blame," no, 'e gives the subalterns and the
coloured-sergeant beans, and they slip it in to the sergeants and
corprils in charge of squads, and the beds is set up straight, and the
men put down for jags and sight-protectors, and the 'oles in the socks
is mended.

_Pte. W. Smith._ That's so, old pal. What else would you recermend?

_Mr. Wilson_ (_reaching out for the measure)._ Thank yer. This 'ere
army-reforming's a dry job. Now as to the metherd of attack. When the
regiment goes out field-firing the henemy's a line of hearthenware pots,
touched up on the sly by the markers with a dash of white; the captains
count the telergraph posts up the range and give the exact distance; and
the men goes 'opping along in line like crows on a ploughed field, the
sergeantes a-naggin' 'em about the 'Ithe position and the coprils
calling them back to pick up empty cartridge cases. Is that the wai,
that you, George Smith, and you, Bill, and you, Pat, used ter creep up
to the rabbit warrens when we used ter go out in the herly morning to
assist the farmers to keep down the ground gime--poaching the colonel
called it? No, we hexecuted wide turning movements and never showed no
more than the tip of a nose. Let drill of attack alone, I say, and
develop the sporting hinstinct of the private.

_Omnes._ 'Ear, 'ear.

_Mr. Wilson._ And this matter of mobility. Why, if you or me or any of
us was on furlough at 'Ampstead or Margit, we was never off a 'orse's or
a moke's back as long as the dibs lasted. Give us the brass, and we'll
find the mobility.

_Pte. W. Smith._ Why don't yer write to the Prime Minister, and give him
your ideas?

_Mr. Wilson._ I shall. A few hintelligent ex-privates in the Cabinet, a
rise of pay for privates and two days' rabitting, and a trip to Margit
every week would sive the British Army.

       *       *       *       *       *


    ["In spite of the demand for recruits, the number of tramps remain,
    undiminished."--_Daily Paper._]

    Why does not patriotic fire
    My all too torpid heart inspire
    With irresistible desire
      To seek the tented camp, sir,
    Where Glory, with her bronze V.C.,
    Waits for the brave, perhaps for me?
    Because I much prefer to be
      A lazy, idle tramp, sir.

    I toil not, neither do I spin.
    For me, the laggard days begin
    Hours after all my kith and kin
      Are weary with their labours;
    The heat and burden of the day
    They bear, poor fools, as best they may,
    While I serenely smoke my clay
     And pity my poor neighbours.

    When Afric burns the trooper brown,
    By leafy lanes I loiter down
    Through Haslemere to Dorking town,
      Each Surrey nook exploring;
    Or 'neath a Berkshire hay-rick I
    At listless length do love to lie,
    And watch the river stealing by
      Between the hills of Goring.

    Why should I change these dear delights
    For toilsome days and sleepless nights,
    And red Bellona's bloody rites
      That bear the devil's stamp, sir?
    Let others hear the people cry
    "A hero he!"--I care not, I,
    So I may only live and die,
      A lazy, idle tramp, sir.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AT A COUNTRY HOUSE.

"Well, my dear Admiral, and how did you sleep?"

"Not at all, General. Confounded butterfly flew in at the window, and
was flopping around all night--couldn't get a wink of sleep."

"Ah, dashed dangerous things, butterflies!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "PRIVATES, BUT NOT FULL" (1875)

_First Driver (after a long day)._ "The 'orse 'rtillery's a-getting
quite aristercratic. It don't dine till eight o'clock!!"

_Second Driver._ "Stroikes me to-morrow the 'orse 'rtillery'll be too
aristercratic to dine at all!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE ENEMY.

_Horrid Boy to newly-appointed Volunteer Major, (who finds the military
seat very awkward_). "Sit further back, General! You'll make his 'ead

       *       *       *       *       *


No, this is not heroism; this is simply discretion. Little Plumpleigh
has just given "Charge!" and taken one look behind to see if his men are
"backing him up, don't you know," and he is now making for safety!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _War-office Genius._ "Now _this_ is another of my
brilliant ideas, the shelter trench exercise. Of course, I _know_ the
trench is the wrong way about, and that, when they have finished it,
they have to fire into the wood they are defending, and then turn about
and charge away from the wood, but, THEN! _we_ get a capital bank and
ditch made round our plantations, with practically _no_ expense!"

_Mr. Punch._ "And this is what you call instructing the Volunteers?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _First Bluejacket._ "Well, matey, wot 'appened?"

_Second Bluejacket._ "Lieutenant, '_e_ reports as 'ow I were dirty, an'
my 'ammick weren't clean, an' captin, '_e_ ses, 'Wash 'is bloomin' neck,
scrub 'is bloomin' face, an' cut 'is bloomin' 'air, every ten

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Volunteer Captain (acting Major first time)._ "Now then!
What are you boys staring at? Did you never see a war-horse before?"

_Boys (who had followed expecting a "spill.")_ "Aye--we've whiles seen a
waur horse, but never a waur rider!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AD VALOREM.

_(Energetic Sub has been pursuing runaway mule)._ "Well done, old chap!
You deserve the D.S.O. at least. What is it? Ammunition?" "Ammunition!
D.S.O.!! V.C., you mean!!!! Why, it's bottled beer!!!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MONEY "TIGHT."

_British Subaltern._ "By-the-by, Smith, can you lend me that sovereign I
gave you this morning for a Christmas-box?!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OUR RESERVES.

_Captain of Rural Corps (calling over the roll)._ "George Hodge!" _(No
answer.)_ "George Hodge!--Where on earth's George Hodge?"

_Voice from the ranks._ "Please, sir, he's turned dissenter, and says
fighting's wicked."]

       *       *       *       *       *


SCENE--_Within measurable distance of Woking. Enter lounger and marksman
R. and L._

_Lounger (heartily)._ Why, I _am_ glad to see you! And how are things
going on?

_Marksman (cordially, but abruptly)._ Capitally! Good-bye!

_Loung._ But I say, what a hurry you are in! Can't you stop a minute for
a chat?

_Marks._ Another time, but just now moments are precious.

_Loung._ But I say, you see I have found myself here--it doesn't take
much longer than getting down to Wimbledon.

_Marks._ Of course it doesn't--whoever said it did? But there, old chap,
I _must_ be off!

_Loung._ You are in a hurry! Ah, we used to have pleasant days in the
old place?

_Marks._ Did we? I daresay we did.

_Loung._ Why, of course! Grand old days! Don't you remember what fun it
used to be decorating your tent; and then, when the ladies came
down--which they did nearly all the day long--what larks it was getting
them tea and claret-cup?

_Marks._ Very likely. But we don't have many ladies now, and a good job,
too--they _are_ a bore.

_Loung._ Well, you _are_ a chap! Why, how can there be any fun without
your sisters, and your cousins, and your maiden aunts?

_Marks._ We don't want fun. But there, good-bye!

_Loung._ But I say, I have come all this way to look you up.

_Marks. (unbending)._ Very kind of you, my dear fellow, you have chosen
rather an unfortunate time.

_Loung._ Why, at Wimbledon you had nothing to do!

_Marks._ Very likely. But then Bisley isn't Wimbledon.

_Loung. (dryly)._ So it seems. Everyone said that when they moved the
camp further away from home, they would ruin the meeting.

_Marks._ Then everyone was wrong. Why, we are going on swimmingly.

_Loung._ It must be beastly dull.

_Marks._ Not at all. Lovely country, good range, and, after it rains,
two minutes later it is dry as bone.

_Loung._ Yes, but it stands to reason that it _can't_ be as popular as

_Marks._ My dear fellow, figures are the best test of that. In all the
history of the Association we never had more entries than this year.

_Loung._ That may be, but you don't have half the fun you had nearer

_Marks. (laughing)._ Don't want to! Business, my dear fellow, not
pleasure! And now, old man, I really _must_ be off. Ta! ta! See you


Loung. Well, whatever he may say, I prefer Wimbledon. And as there
doesn't seem much for _me_ to do down here, I shall return to town.

    [_Does so. Curtain._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Irascible Lieutenant (down engine-room tube)._ "Is there
a blithering idiot at the end of this tube?"

_Voice from Engine-room._ "Not at this end, sir!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: VOLO EPISCOPARI.

_Festive Middy._ "I say, guv'nor! I think you must rather like being
Bishop here!"

_His Lordship._ "Well, my boy, I hope I do! But why do you ask?"

_Festive Middy._ "Oh, I've just been taking a walk through the
city,--and I _say_!--there _is_ an uncommonly good-looking lot o' girls
about, and _no_ mistake!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A NASTY ONE.

_Colonel Smithson (of the Poonah Marines)._ "By the way, my boy at
Sandhurst hopes to get into your regiment some day."

_Little Simpson (of the Royal Hussars Green)._ "Aw--I--aw hope your son
is up to _our form!_"

_Colonel Smithson._ "_Your form!_ Dash it, he's over four feet high,

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CAUTION.

_Old Gent (with difficulty)._ "Now really--Oh! this dis--graceful
crowding--I'm--I'm positive my gun will go off!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: CHEEK.

_(The regiment is about to "march out" with twenty rounds of "blank

_Sub-Lieutenant (of twenty-four hours' service)._ "Whereabouts is this
pyrotechnic display of yours coming off, Colonel!!?"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Jack._ "Well, Polly lass, if it's true as 'ow you're going to get
spliced to Bill, all I 'opes is that he'll stick to you through thick
and thin!"

_Polly._ "Well, 'e _ought_ to, Jack. 'E works in a glue factory."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "Awful bore, dear old chap. War offith won't have me,
thimply becauth my eyethight ith tho doothed bad!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: ARMS OF PRECISION

_Volunteer Subaltern (as the enemy's scout continues to advance in spite
of expenditure of much "blank" ammunition)._ "If that infernal yeoman
comes any nearer, shy stones at him, some of you!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A FORLORN HOPE

_Captain O'Dowd (of the firm of O'Dowd and Jones, stock-jobbers)._
"What'll I do now? It's beyond me jumpin' powers, an' if I wade I'll be
wet to the waist." _(To Private Halloran, who in civil life is a
stockbroker's clerk)._ "Here, Halloran, I want a carry over. You do it
for me, an' I'll not forget it to you, me lad."

_Private Halloran._ "Sorry I can't, Captain. You know carryin'-over day
is not till the sixteenth, an' this is only the seventh!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


(_By a patriotic Cockney_)

    Though I feel less at home on the bounding wave
      Than I do on the firm dry land,
    I can spin you a yarn of a right good craft
      That is true-British owned and manned.
    The winds may blow, and the storms may beat,
      And the hurricanes rage and roar,
    But "the ship I love" on her course will hold
      With the Union Jack at the fore.

    Fair weather or foul, she ploughs along,
      Leaving far astern the strand,
    And many a towering sister bark
      We pass on the starboard hand,
    And, Westward ho! as we bear away!
      I can count stout ships galore,
    Abeam, in our wake, and ahead, that fly
      The Union Jack at the fore.

    And the sight of the flag that has swept the seas,
      Nor ever has known disgrace,
    Makes even a landlubber's bosom swell
      With the pride of his English race.
    At that gallant sight in my landsman's heart
      I rejoice--and rejoice still more
    That I'm only aboard of a road-car 'bus,
      With the Union Jack at the fore!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "USED TO IT!"--_Officer at firing-point (who thinks that
it's raining)._ "Sergeant Mauchline, hadn't you better wear your
greatcoat till it's your turn to fire?" _Sergeant Mauchline (frae the
"Land of Lorne")._ "Hoo! Nothe noo! I'll pit it on when it comes wat!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


1. DON'T go to camp. But if you do,

2. Don't get up when revally sounds. You'll find adjutant's parade
in the early morning, the very early morning, such a beastly bore,
and so bad for the liver that it is far wiser to stay in the
"palliasse"--(besides, hasn't your doctor often told you that it is
madness to suppose you can play such tricks at your time of life?)--they
can only give you a few years' imprisonment for repeated mutinous
conduct, and you could doubtless petition the Home Secretary for an
aggravation of your sentence.

3. Don't submit to harsh or cursory remarks from the adjutant. Do answer
him back. You know quite well that in private life you would not put up
with his hasty, ill-considered and offensive language, nor permit him to
hector you because your collar was not clean, and if you _have_ come on
parade without cleaning your belt or rifle, what right has he to say
that it makes him furious? Do point out to him how absurd it is to
expect such minute attention to discipline on the part of so
intelligent a volunteer as yourself.

4. Don't overtax your strength or weaken your heart by "doubling" up
impossible hills, merely because the colonel (on a horse) thinks it
looks pretty. Of course you would be perfectly ready to do anything that
was necessary, but how can the empire's safety depend upon your losing
your wind, when the enemy are some of your oldest friends, with a
handkerchief tied round their sleeves?

5. Do insist upon having hot water to shave with, and an extra blanket
when the nights get chilly. Very probably the captain of your company
would turn out of his bed and take your palliasse if you asked him

6. Don't do any menial or degrading work, such as cleaning cooking
utensils or greasing your own boots. The Government ought to know that
gentlemen can't be expected to do that kind of work, and should provide
an efficient staff of servants.

7. Don't do anything you would rather not.

8. Do set all military discipline at defiance. You probably know much
better than your officers.

9. Don't blame me if you find yourself in prison.

10. Do make a stern resolution never to come to camp again.

11. Don't keep it.

       *       *       *       *       *


_(Compiled by an evil-minded enthusiast)_

The shooting could not be more satisfactory _but_ for the customary

Everyone would make a "bull" _but_ for the haze and the shiftiness of
the wind.

The catering is in every way excellent, _but_ heavy meals scarcely
assist in getting on the target.

It is delightful to entertain visitors--especially ladies--at the camp,
_but_ champagne-cup and provisions generally run into money.

It is healthy to sleep under canvas, _but_ when the thermometer marks
ninety in the shade or the rain pours down in torrents a bed in an inn
is preferable.

Bisley is a beautiful place, _but_ Woking cemetery is a dismal

Distinctly it is nobly patriotic to spend a fortnight with the N. R. A.,
in the cause of the fatherland, _but_ is it quite worth the trouble?

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Swagger Yeomanry Officer._ "Bring out my charger."

_Job-master's Foreman._ "Very sorry, sir, but e's just gorn to a

       *       *       *       *       *


(Scene--_General Inspection of Volunteer Battalion. Lieut.
Tompkins--excellent fellow, but poor soldier--called out to show the
General and British public what he knows._)

_General._ "Now, sir, you now have the battalion in quarter
column facing south. How would you get into line, in the quickest
possible way, facing north-east?"

_Tompkins (after much fruitless consideration)._ "Well, sir, do you
know, that's always what I've wondered."

    [_Report on subaltern officers--bad._


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _First Miserable Sub (left at the depot)._ "I can't
think, for the life of me, what excuse for two days' leave I'm to give
the C. O. I've already weighed in with every one I can think of."

_Second M. S._ "Easy enough, old chap. Kill your grandmother."

_First M. S._ "Can't, dear boy. I'm keeping her for the Derby!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "THE WAY WE HAD IN THE ARMY." (1877).

_Colonel (of the pre-examination period--to studious sub)._ "I say,
youngster, you'll never make a soldier if you don't mind what you're

_Sub (mildly)._ "I should be sorry to think that, sir!"

_Colonel._ "I saw you sneaking up the High Street yesterday, looking
like a Methodist parson in reduced circumstances!--Hold up your head,
sir! Buy a stick, sir! Slap your leg, sir! And stare at the girls at the

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "The 'orrid mess master made my kitching in, and hisself
too, a-cleaning that there dratted rifle, after he'd been a booviackin'
in the park!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A DILEMMA.

_Auxiliary Recruit (to himself)._ "Murder! Murder! What'll I do now?
'Drill-sarjint tould me always to salute me officer with the far-off
hand, and here's two iv 'em! Faix, I'll make it straight for meself

    [_Throws up both hands._


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "OFF!"

_Sergeant O'Leary._ "Double! Left! Right! What the blazes, Pat Rooney,
d'ye mane by not doublin' wid the squad?"

_Pat._ "Shure, sergeant, 'twasn't a fair start"!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "LUCUS A NON," &c.

_(Aiming drill.)_

_Musketry Instructor._ "Now, then! How do you 'xpect to see the hobject
haimed at, if you don't keep your heye closed?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OUR MANOEUVRES.

_Captain of Skirmishers (rushing in to seize picket sentries of the
enemy)._ "Hullo! He-ar! You surrender to this company!"

_Opposition Lance-Corporal._ "Beg pardon, sir! It's the other way, sir.
We're a brigade, sir!!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MILITARY ARDOUR.

_Sentry (with mixed ideas of manual and platoon)._ "Gar'd t'n out!"

_Commandant._ "Bless you, sir, what are you about?"

_Sentry._ "Shure, I'm waitin' for the worr'd foire!"

    [Extract from Field Exercise or Red Book, pocket edition, page
    356:--_Sentries paying compliments:_ "To field officers he will
    _present_ arms."


       *       *       *       *       *


_Captain Wilkinson (excitedly, to Major Walker, of the firm of
Wilkinson, Walker, & Co., Auctioneers and Estate Agents)._ "Don't you
think we'd better bring our right wing round to attack the enemy's
flank, so as to prevent their occupying those empty houses we have to
let in Barker's Lane?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A POSER.

_Sergeant-Major._ "Now, Private Smith, you know very well none but
officers and non-commissioned officers are allowed to walk across this

_Private Smith._ "But, sergeant-major, I've Captain Graham's verbal
orders to----"

_Sergeant-Major._ "None o' that, sir! Show me the captain's verbal
orders! Show'm to me, sir!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "FOLLOW MY LEADER!"

Captain Barble (East Suffolkshire R. V.) going to drill, has occasion to
pass a certain window for reasons best known to himself. A vague idea
possesses him that something is wrong somehow, or what should create
such amusement on this occasion!]

       *       *       *       *       *




    _Interior of a dreary room in the War Office. A tired-looking young
    officer, in mufti, sits at a table with great piles of papers, each
    bundle tied with red tape and ticketed with labels of different
    colours, on one side of it ready to his hand. Another pile of
    papers, which he has already dealt with, is on the other side of the
    table. He is an official and has many letters, the first two being
    D. A. after his name. The gas has just been lighted. A clerk brings
    in another fat bundle of papers._

_The Officer (patting the smaller pile on the table)._ These can go on,
Smithers. That question of sardine-openers must go back to the
commissariat, and the General commanding the Central District must be
authorised to deal on his own responsibility with the matter of the
fierce bull in the field where the recruits bathe. What have you got

_The Clerk._ It is the correspondence, sir, relative to that false tooth
requisitioned for by the officer commanding the Rutlandshire Regiment
for the first cornet of the band. The Medical Department sent it back to
us this morning, and there is another letter in from the Colonel,
protesting against his regiment being forced to go route marching to an
imperfect musical accompaniment.

_The Officer (groaning)._ I thought we had got rid of that matter at
last by sending it to the doctors.

_The Clerk._ No, sir. The Surgeon-General has decided that "one tooth,
false, with gold attachment," cannot be considered a medical comfort.

_The Officer (taking a précis from the top of the papers)._ I suppose we
must go into the matter again. It began with the letter from the Colonel
to the General?

_The Clerk._ Yes, sir, here it is. The O. C. the Rutland Regiment has
the honour to report that the first cornet player in the band has lost
a tooth, and as the band has become inefficient in the playing of
marching music in consequence, he requests that a false tooth may be
supplied at Government expense.

_The Officer._ And the General, of course, replied in the usual formula
that he had no fund available for such purpose.

_The Clerk._ Yes, sir; but suggested that the regimental band fund might
be drawn on.

_The Officer._ Where is the Colonel's letter in reply. (It is handed to
him.) Ah, yes. Band fund is established, he writes, for purchase of
musical instruments and music, and not for repair of incomplete
bandsmen, and refuses to authorise expense, except under order from the

_The Clerk._ The General sends this on to us with a remark as to the
Colonel's temper.

_The Officer._ And we pass it to the Quarter-Master-General's people,
suggesting that under certain circumstances a false tooth might be
considered a "necessary," and a free issue made.

_The Clerk._ A very long memo, on the subject, in reply, from the
Q.-M.-G., sir. He points out that though, under exceptional
circumstances, a pair of spectacles might be held to be a
sight-protector, a false tooth could not be held to be either a fork, a
spoon, a shaving-brush, a razor, or even an oil bottle.

_The Officer._ We wrote back suggesting that it might pass as a
"jag"--our little joke.

_The Clerk._ _Your_ little joke, sir. The Q.-M.-G.'s people didn't see

_The Officer._ No? Then the correspondence goes on to the Ordnance
Department, with a suggestion that a false tooth might be considered an
arm or an accoutrement.

_The Clerk._ The Director-General replies, sir, that in the early days
of the British Army, when the Army Clothing Department's sole issue was
a supply of woad, a tooth, or indeed a nail, might have reasonably been
indented for as a weapon, but that, owing to the introduction and
perfection of fire-arms, such weapons are now obsolete and cannot be

_The Officer._ And now the Medical Service refuse to help us.

_The Clerk._ Yes, sir. They cannot bring the fixing of it under the
head of surgical operations, and the Surgeon-General points out very
justly, if I may be permitted to say so, sir, that a seal-pattern false
tooth could hardly be considered a "medical comfort."

_The Officer._ What are we to do? The Colonel of the regiment is
evidently furious.

_The Clerk._ We might send the correspondence to the Inspector of Iron
Structures. He may be able to do or suggest something.

_The Officer._ Very well; and will you send off this telegram to my wife
saying I have a long evening's work before me, and that I shall not be
able to get back to dinner to-night? (_Exit the Clerk._) Whenever will
they trust a General Commanding a District to spend for the public good
on his own responsibility a sum as large as a schoolboy's allowance, and
so take some of the unnecessary work off our shoulders?

    [_He tackles wearily another file of papers._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: UNDER COVER.

"So glad to see you, Mrs. Bamsby! And how is your dear husband? Where
_is_ the Colonel? I was only saying the other day, 'I wonder when I
shall see Colonel Bamsby!'"

_Mrs. Colonel B._ "You'll see him _now_, my dear if I just step aside,
or you walk round me."]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Adjutant._ "Your orders are that when you are attacked, Captain
Slasher, you are to fall back slowly."

_Capt. Slasher._ "In which direction am I to retire, sir?"

_Adjutant._ "Well, the proper way, of course, would be over that hill,
but--_they intend to have lunch behind that farmhouse in the valley._"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "SYNONYMOUS."

_Instructor._ "Now, I've explained the different 'sights,' you, Private
Dumpy, tell me what a fine 'sight' is. Describe it as well as you

_Private Dumpy._ "A fine sight, sir? A fine sight--(_pondering_)--'s a
magnificen' spe'tacle, sir!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Sergeant._ "Can I do anything for you, captain?"

_Captain._ "Why, thanky, sergeant. If you wouldn't mind giving my other
leg a hitch over!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MULTUM IN PARVO

_Inspecting Officer._ "How is it your khaki is so much too small?"

_Stout Yeoman._ "It do seem a bit skimpy, sur. But tailor says as how
I'm bound to grow a 'eap smaller on hactive service, an' 'e's allowin'
for shrinkage."

       *       *       *       *       *


LE PANTALON.--Haul upon the starboard tack and let the other craft
pass--then bear up and get your head on the other tack--regain your
berth on the port tack--back and fill with your partner and boxhaul
her--wear round twice against the sun in company with the opposite
craft, then your own--afterwards boxhaul her again and bring her up.

L'ETE.--Shoot ahead about two fathoms till you nearly come stem on with
the other craft under weigh--then make a stern board to your berth and
side out for a bend, first to starboard, then to port--make sail and
pass the opposite craft--then get your head round on the other
tack--another side to starboard and port--then make sail to regain your
berth--wear round, back and fill and boxhaul your partner.

LA POULE.--Heave ahead and pass your adversary yard-arm to
yard-arm--regain your berth on the other tack in the same order--take
your station in a line with your partner--back and fill--fall on your
heel and bring up with your partner--she then manoeuvres ahead and
heaves all aback, fills and shoots ahead again and pays off
alongside--you then make sail in company, till nearly stem on with the
other line--make a stern board and cast her off to shift for
herself--regain your berth in the best means possible, and let go your

LA TRENISE.--Wear round as before against the sun twice, boxhaul the
lady, and range up alongside her, and make sail in company--when
half-way across to the other shore drop astern with the tide--shoot
ahead again and cast off the tow--now back and fix as before and boxhaul
her and yourself into your berth, and bring up.

LA PASTORALE.--Shoot ahead alongside your partner, then make a stern
board--again make all sail over to the other coast--let go the hawser,
and pay off into your own berth and take a turn--the three craft
opposite range up abreast towards you twice, and back astern again--now
manoeuvre any rig you like, only under easy sail, as it is always
"light winds" (zephyrs) in this passage--as soon as you see their helms
down, haul round in company with them on port tack--then make all sail
with your partner into your own berth, and bring up.

LA FINALE.--Wear round to starboard, passing under your partner's
bows--sight the catheads of craft on your starboard bow--then make sail
into your own berth--your partner passing athwart your bows--now proceed
according to the second order of sailing--to complete the evolutions
shoot ahead and back astern twice, in company with the whole squadron,
in the circular order of sailing.

       *       *       *       *       *


    Some talk of Alexander, and some of Pericles,
    Of Hector and Lysander, and such old guys as these;
    But of all the horrid objects, the "wust" I do declare,
    Is the Prusso-Russo-Belgo-Gallo-British Grenadier.


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "THE RESERVE FORCES."

_Militia Officer._ "Augh!--a new man. Ah--'ve you been in 'service

_Recruit._ "Yes, sir."

_Officer._ "Augh--what regiment?"

_Recruit._ "Mrs. Wiggins's coachman, sir!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *




       *       *       *       *       *

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