ays understood. Well, where shall we go first?"

"Anywhere you like," said the Sage of Fleet Street. "But are you sure
that we are not unduly trespassing on your time?"

[Illustration]

"Not at all--only too delighted. It's all in the day's work. We have
a lot of distinguished visitors that we have to take round. I like it
myself, but some of our fellows kick against it. Of course it doesn't
refer to you two; but you can fancy what a nuisance it must be for
all our fellows to have to get up in full rig, and bow and scrape,
and march and countermarch, and go through the whole bag of tricks, to
some third-rate Royalty? Ah! they are happier off at Aldershot, aren't
they?"

"No doubt," was the prompt reply.

_Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME had now entered a barrack square, wherein
a number of trembling recruits were standing in front of a sergeant.

"I am just putting them through their paces, Sir," said he: "they are
a bit rusty in bowing drill."

The A.D.C. nodded, and, turning on his heel, explained to the visitors
that it was the object of the Authorities to introduce as much as
possible of the civil element into the Army.

"You will see this idea carried out a little further in the
institution we are now entering," he added, as the three walked into
a building that looked like a handsome Club-house. At the door was an
officer in the uniform of the Guards.

"Hullo, HUGHIE," said the A.D.C., "on duty to-day?"

"As hall-porter. CHARLIE is smoking-room waiter. I say, do you want to
take your friends round?"

"Well, I should like to let them get a glimpse of TOMMY ATKINS at his
ease."

"All right, you can pass. But, I say, just warn them to keep quiet
when they get near him. We have had no end of a time to smooth him
down."

[Illustration]

Thus warned, the Sage and Father TIME passed through the hall and
entered the smoking-room. Stretched at full length on a couple of
chairs was a Private, lazily sipping a glass of brandy and soda-water,
that had just been supplied to him by an officer of his own battalion.
On withdrawing, the A.D.C. greeted the commissioned waiter who
answered to the name of CHARLIE.

"Rather rough, eh?" said he, with a glance at a tray containing a
cork-screw and an empty bottle.

"A bit better than Bermuda. If we don't coerce them, we must be
polite. After all, fagging turned out the heroes of Winchester and
Westminster, and wasn't Waterloo won on the playing-fields of Eton?"

"Rath