common—working away at the goose step:
—no, not quite the oddest; for there was
my father, in another part of the common,
with all the country gentlemen for miles
round, and the cream of the Elwich young
men, all volunteers for the Rifle Company,
goose-stepping away, just like the bumpkins.

Talking of devoting one's self for one's
country's good—nobody has such fine
things to say as Johnny List the little
tailor. As all these nine hundred men have
to be clothed as soldiers, you may suppose
Johnny is busy. He has got together a
lot of old uniforms, which will do to begin
with; and he and the other tailors promise
that every man shall have a coat on his back
in ten days or a fortnight. They say little
Johnny looked up at Ned in despair; but
the idea struck him that it was a case for
making two coats into one; and he boasts
that he will sit up all night, and so shall his
apprentice, for their country's good. The
other tailors in the town say the same thing;
only, Johnny is the man for making a fuss.
I hope the shoemakers are as patriotic, for
their work is wanted as much as any.

There's my father waking up, and here
comes tea—so good-bye; for I shall not be
able to keep awake after tea. And I don't
promise to write so soon again. Mamma's
love, and papa's and mine.
Your affectionate brother,
WILLIE WARNER.

Westerleigh, January 25th.

DEAR DICK,—I am afraid you are in a
horrible passion with me that I have written
you no more accounts of our drill: but I
should like to see whether you could have
done it—that's all. I never was so busy in
my life; and you may ask my father
whether I was not dog-tired (and he too)
every night but Sundays. And on Sundays,
you know, it was only proper to go in in the
evenings and help the officers with the men's
reading and singing, and all that. You
would never believe how the fellows got
on in school—just in these three weeks.
Some of them who could only scrawl before,
have been writing letters to their friends,
and most of them can read their Testament
and the newspaper; and those who cannot
have yet made a beginning, so as to be ready
to get on when they come again in April.
The Elwich people not only invited the officers
to the reading-room, but all the men—the
whole nine hundred—to the Mechanics'
Institute. And there we had lectures in the
great room and the newspaper read aloud;
and two or three times some popular stories,
for the sake of those who could not read for
themselves. Then, they were all treated to
the theatre one night. That was after they
had all got their red coats; and the pit
looked as it never looked before. A good
deal of all this was planned by the towns-
people, who had been in a panic about the
disorder they were told there would be,
when nearly a thousand fellows were brought
in, to tipple together as soon as they were
off the common. And how many cases of
drunkenness do you suppose there were in
the whole three weeks? Why, two. No
more, I assure you. No wonder the general
said this morning—— O I forgot, you don't
know about him yet. Well, as to the
Sundays. I rode in to spend them at Elwich,
as a good many other people did. It was such
a fine sight to see the militia come into the
great church, looking more like soldiers each
time, and, at the last, able to sing the
Hundredth Psalm exceedingly well. Only
think! it was barely three weeks since they
had huddled together on the common, like
a flock of wet sheep; without a red coat, or
a flag, or a drum, or anything soldierly about
them. And now their band is really worth
hearing, and the ladies of the county have
presented them with colours, and they
march into church like a regular regiment.
The old high roof echoes again with their
tread. It is a fine sight, I can tell you,

But you don't believe it, perhaps. " Not a
bit," you say. Well: General Pelter (in
command at the garrison, you know) did not know,
any more than you, what to make of what he
heard. He was too much of a gentleman, of
course, to say he did not believe his own officers;
so he declared he should come to see with his
own eyes, what Sir Henry and his officers had
really done in creating the Rampshire militia.
He came—he saw—and they conquered,—
and I question whether such a speech was
ever spoken as he made this morning.

The general would not let us have a dinner
here for him, though he slept here. He wanted
to see the men in the evening; so he went
round and talked with them, and looked at
their copy-books, and conversed with the most
intelligent of them about the county. He told
us when we were on the way home that the
thing that surprised him was the soldierly
bearing of the men, in so very short a time.
There was nothing of that silly puzzled stare
that one sees in rustics when a stranger speaks
to them; they spring to attention, as he
says; and they really scarcely drawl at all
in their answers. If they rigmarole, you
can stop it at once, and get an answer.
The Major and Captain Helsham came here
with him; and we heard them tell all about
it;—that is, as well as they couid speak; for
they are both as hoarse as the wind on the
common which made them so,—and horribly
tired, too. The general says it is time they
were going back to their wives to get nursed.
You know what the weather has been. It
has been blowing and snowing, or sleeting, or
raining almost every day; but on they went
—officers and men, from daylight till dark,
with very little rest between. I must tell you
though, that some help came after the first
week. Twenty-four men from the forty-second
Fencibles pushed on the business famously.