signs on, I've got to read over a lot o' reg'lashuns to ye, so as you'll clearly understand what ye're promisin' to do. Now reg'lashuns is like Acts of Parlyment, no two persons can agree as to what they mean, so you won't understand them, probably; but that's not important, as my experience of the ways o' Gov'mint teaches me that they'll be altered shortly, so there's no need for ye to worry. But the

    one

   thing ye have to do is, to do as ye're told; attend to that now. It's the blessid privilege of the volunteer to endeavour to make himself a soldier in spite of all obstacles, an' what the reg'lar takes months to learn, an' the militia weeks, 'e 'as to try and do in

    days

   , so 'tis no picnic if 'e's goin' to do 'is duty. An' duty don't mean church parades, an' the annual dinner, an' as little else as you can; duty means everything you can possibly do, an' it's the pride of a good lad, that if there's an extry job o' work to be done, e's the lad that'll do it; for there's none better than a keen Volunteer, an' no one worse than a slack one, that'll turn up smart when the drinks is free, but is most unduly anxious about 'is master's business on other occasions, a nuisince to 'is sergeant, 'is captin', 'is colonel, an' 'is country; an' if I thought you were that sort I'd send ye to the right-about now, but I think, by yer looks, ye have the makings o' soldiers. Now, if there's anything ye want to know, now's the time to ask. What's that? Ye don't know if ye're up to standard? Fancy a lad 'avin' the face to ask me that! Why, when I was a boy, with a couple o' corks in me heels, an' a wisp o' straw under me waistcut, I'd a' passed for a giant. When you've learnt to throw a chest and hold yer heads up, yer own mothers won't know yer. Now, after I've read over these 'ere reg'lashuns, ye'll sign these papers, an' when the doctor's passed you, go an' tell yer best girls that ye'll 'ave yer futtygraphs took d'rectly yer uniforms is ready. You will p'rade at seven o'clock, sharp, mind ye, nex' Monday."

   "Recruitin's a funny business!" muttered the Sergeant; officially Colour-Sergeant Instructor of E Company 1st Downshire Volunteer Rifles, a Battalion scattered over half a county, unofficially "Tiny," for the most obvious reasons. "'Tis a funny business, at least in these parts; p'raps it's different in London and them 'ere big towns, but if we told 'em all we was supposed to tell 'em, as it's laid down, 'twould frighten 'arf of 'em off the job; while if yer tell 'em in their own way, yer can get 'em to do 

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