e difficulty and tried to find a substitute
for the deadly and discriminating pop-gun. It was all of no use.
Whatever the missile--sleeve-fink, marble, or button--I was invariably
the better shot, and that skill stood me in good stead on many an
ensanguined plain, and helped to counteract the inequality between a boy
of twelve and a man of mature years. A wise discretion ruled with regard
to the _personnel_ of the fighting line. Stevenson possessed a horde of
particularly chubby cavalrymen, who, when marshalled in close formation
at the head of the infantry, could bear unscathed the most accurate and
overwhelming fire, and thus shelter their weaker brethren in the rear.
This was offset by his "Old Guard," whose unfortunate peculiarity of
carrying their weapons at the charge often involved whole regiments in
a common ruin. On my side there was a multitude of flimsy Swiss, for
whom I trembled whenever they were called to action. These Swiss were so
weak upon their legs that the merest breath would mow them down in
columns, and so deficient in stamina that they would often fall before
they were hurt. Their ranks were burdened, too, with a number of
egregious puppets with musical instruments, who never fell without
entangling a few of their comrades.

Another improvement that was tried and soon again given up was an effort
to match the sickness of actual war. Certain zones were set apart as
unwholesome, especially those near great rivers and lakes, and troops
unfortunate enough to find themselves in these miasmic plains had to
undergo the ordeal of the dice-box. Swiss or Guards, musicians, Arabs,
chubby cavalrymen or thin, all had to pay Death's toll in a new and
frightful form. But we rather overdid the miasma, so it was abolished by
mutual consent.

The war which forms the subject of the present paper was unusual in no
respect save that its operations were chronicled from day to day in a
public press of Stevenson's imagination, and reported by daring
correspondents on the field. Nothing is more eloquent of the man than
the particularity and care with which this mimic war correspondence was
compiled; the author of the "Child's Garden" had never outgrown his love
for childish things, and it is typical of him that, though he mocks us
at every turn and loses no occasion to deride the puppets in the play,
he is everywhere faithful to the least detail of fact. It must not be
supposed that I was privileged to hear these records