"Then you'd better hear next time," is the
practical rejoinder. "Jones!"

Jones, who was just about to tip off the hat
of an adjacent companion in arms, consents
to suspend that playful act for the present,
obeys the call, and gathers up his face into a
respectful expression.

"Jones the Second!" says the sergeant, who
does not condescend to Christian names.

Another Jones, so unmistakably a
costermonger, that you expect to see his donkey in
the background, steps up with unexpected
alacrity. He is immediately detected to be
Jones the Third, and is made to stand aside
until his turn comes. Jones the Second,
however, does not answer. There is a little pause,
and then an intimate friend of the missing
warrior intimates that he thinks Jones the
Second is in prison—knows he got three months
some time ago for assaulting the police.

"Well, we can't wait here till he comes out,"
says the sergeant. So Jones the Third gets
his knapsack, immediately after which process
Jones the Second appears, insinuating himself
round by the rear to escape observation. He is
promptly "spotted," and bullied. It appears
that he has really been suffering: from loss
of liberty consequent upon a conflict with the
civil power; however, as he was restored
to the Briton's normal state of freedom two
days ago, the incident is not a logical
explanation of his being late this morning. So he
takes his knapsack and retires to his company
in disgrace.

"James the First!" is the next call. James
the First, with marked disrespect for the
prejudices of his royal namesake, is smoking a
short pipe. There is another row about that;
the sergeant acting the part of the counterblast,
and successfully repressing this act of
indiscipline.

"James the Second" succeeds James the
First, in ostentatious defiance of historical
precedent. He is a very alert, steady, and
respectable man, who, if he obtained a situation
as king, would as soon think of flying as of
abdicating. Nobody is better aware of the fact
than the sergeant, who gives him his knapsack
with something like graciousness.

"James the Third!" The name and style
sound Jacobitical. But James the Third is
evidently not the "king over the water."
Certain appearances indicate that he is rather the
king over the beer. These are promptly
detected, so his knapsack is withheld, and the
convivial monarch is exiled to his St. Germain in
the guard-room.

In this manner the other names are gone
through, the process being performed
concurrently in the remaining nine companies.
After a short time the men begin to fall into
military habits, become steady enough, and
give very little trouble. Considering that they
have for the most part been scattered nobody
knows where, for the last eleven months, it is
wonderful how few are missing, and even
of those some are sure to turn up to-morrow.

The knapsacks being all distributed, the
clothing takes its turn. This is a more tedious
business, as so many of the men have to be
fitted for the first time, or afresh, as the case
may be, and the general tendency of the
garments is to be too large. The latter fact is
owing to the average height in the army being
adopted as the basis of calculation, whereas
the average height in the militia is considerably
under that mark. Altogether the process
of adjustment is a difficult one, and by no
means satisfactory in its results. By one
o'clock, however, the men are supplied,
besides their kits, with jackets, trousers, and
caps, and then the "parade" comes to an
end. The next proceeding is to pay and
dismiss. By two every man present has
received his eighteen pence, with an extra
tenpence "for a hot meal," which is allowed
him on the first day. His pay, I should add,
with the extra twopence voted last session to
the army generally, is one shilling and
sevenpence a day; but for the sake of convenience
the difference is made up on Saturdays. For
this the militiaman has to "find himself," and
seems able to do so; but he has a bounty of
a pound at the end of the training, and
sometimes draws upon it in advance. It must be
remembered, too, that he very frequently works
at a trade during the training; and those who
pursue avocations in connexion with a donkey
and a barrow are generally allowed partial if
not entire liberty on Saturdays, so that they
may not sacrifice their great harvest day of
the week.

During all these proceedings the officers have
remained with their companies, exercising a more
or less active superintendence, and preserving
order and propriety in the ranks, which on the
first day are always apt to run a little wild.
Attendance in orderly room will probably keep
them another hour, and it is likely to be three
o'clock before they find themselves free.

The proceedings in orderly room are
embellished witli a little more variety than is to be
found in the regular service, owing to the
militiaman having private pursuits. These are,
of course, no defence for drunkenness or general
misconduct, which is met with the usual effective
punishment—extra drill, loss of pay, and
solitary confinement, according to the nature of
the offence. And in cases which seem to call
for a more severe sentence than the colonel is
able to inflict upon his own authority, a court
martial is summoned. For absence without
leave the most ingenious reasons are assigned.
Thus a man this year expected to be excused by
alleging that he was going about, selling fruit,
and "found himself" at Fulham instead of at
Whitechapel, whither he had intended bending
his steps: the consequence being that he could
not get back to barracks until next morning.
Such excuses are invariably taken for what
they are worth, which is very little indeed.

Orderly room being over, the officers, except
two who are in orders as officers of the day,
may go where they will until ten o'clock