broken men and horses do kick over the traces
once in a while, they eventually "get there," and that, after all, is
the Canadian doctrine.

For the purposes of training the Militia is divided into two
classes--the "city" and the "rural" corps. There is also the permanent
force, our Canadian regulars, who exist as a school for "the Militia,"
as they refer to the non-professional army.

The city corps consist chiefly of infantry, heavy artillery, and
engineer corps, the last being generally in university towns and either
affiliated with or being actually the cadet corps of the college. One
might think the cadet corps would be affiliated with the Militia, but
this is a case where the boy is father to the man.

City corps do fourteen nominal days' training a year in the drill-hall,
and, of late years, a voluntary camp of five days. For each of these
days two night drills of two hours each count as a day; the militiaman
receives the sum of four shillings, with a slight increase according to
his musketry ability.

The drill season commences in the middle of March, and from then on till
Inspection Day--a boiling hot day in June--the voice of the
drill-sergeant is heard in the land. This individual is obtained on
indent from the permanent force; but more of him anon.

For two nights a week, then, at the season when a young man's fancies
are supposed to turn lightly to other things, the would-be Wellington
dons a suit of rifle green, or scarlet, or even the heathen kilt,
according to his taste, and, disguising it with a civilian great coat
(regulation coats being issued to 50 per cent. of the establishment),
slinks more or less bashfully down the back way to the drill-hall. There
he will learn to shift a rifle (weight nine pounds five and a few odd
ounces) from one position to another in response to quite unintelligible
commands that echo most absurdly from the roof. He will also learn to
move around the floor in something like the formations laid down in the
little red manual, practising especially those for whom our prayers are
desired, the favourites of the General Officer Commanding his district.

For, though regulations wax and wane, the G.O.C. changeth not; neither
does he bow down and worship the little tin gods the Army Council set
up. But instead, as one by one the formations he used to know are culled
from the manual, he watches the new formations with a passive eye and
reserves his choleric criticisms for the ol