lads before--(come along there, my son; we ain't
syncopatin' the movements)--but I'm told you're all B.E.F. men. Well then,
I expect you think you know something. So you do. You know what a Jerry
looks like and what a Whizzbang sounds like. But that ain't much. You don't
know me. 'Ave a good look at me. You'll 'ear what I _sound_ like in a
minute."

He paused for effect and breath.

"Now you 'ave 'ad a look at me you'll know me. Not the Apollo Belgravia,
but just plain Brown--Mrs. Brown's old man--that's me; and thank 'Eaven
it's 'im you've got to deal with and not Mr. Brown's old woman. Now we'll
get to work, lads, and 'ustle's the word."

He moved away a few paces.

"When I say 'Round me nip,'" he shouted, "I want to see a cloud of dust and
a livin' statue. Round me--NIP!"

There was boxing.

"'It 'im," yelled Brown; "you ain't doin' a foxtrot! Bite 'is ear orf! Make
'is nose bleed!"

Their noses bled.

There were bayonet charges on stuffed sacks.

"Kick 'em," roared Brown, leaping round like a dervish; "make faces at 'em!
I want to see ye getting uglier every minute."

They grew uglier.

Half-an-hour later the squad, limp and perspiring, lay down for a rest.

"Well, you've not done too bad," said Brown; "you're all breathin', anyway.
Get dressed now, and don't be 'alf-an-hour at it. Don't forget, my lads,
'ustle's the word what makes such men as me--and you too by the time I've
finished with you. I'll make it a bit stiffer to-morrow."

He strolled off.

A voice arose from the squad:--

"Anybody'd think we was a lot of blinkin' animals."

* * * * *

I came back suddenly to the carriage and the crush.

"So you've altered your ideas about hustling?" I said.

"Altered them? Why?"

"Well," I said, "I can remember a day when Mrs. Brown's old man----"

"Why, Sir, you mean to say----"

"I do," I said.

And after a time:--

"Well, good-bye, Sergeant. Awfully glad to have seen you again, and to know
you don't like being hustled any more than we did."

He laughed.

"One for you, Sir," he said. "But after all you was carrying a rifle, not a
bloomin' baby."

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Old Gentleman._ "IS THAT YOUR BABY?"

_Little Girl._ "NO, SIR, IT AIN'T OURN. WE AIN'T 'AD NONE SINCE ME."]

* * * * *

A Cool Reception.

"VISIT OF 10 WESLEYAN MINISTERS.

---- Wesleyan Church.