There was another Law of the Medes and Persians with which our four friends soon became familiar—­that which governs the relations of the various ranks to one another.  Great Britain is essentially the home of the chaperon.  We pride ourselves, as a nation, upon the extreme care with which we protect our young gentlewomen from contaminating influences.  But the fastidious attention which we bestow upon our national maidenhood is as nothing in comparison with the protective commotion with which we surround that shrinking sensitive plant, Mr. Thomas Atkins.

Take etiquette and deportment.  If a soldier wishes to speak to an officer, an introduction must be effected by a sergeant.  Let us suppose that Private M’Splae, in the course of a route-march, develops a blister upon his great toe.  He begins by intimating the fact to the nearest lance-corporal.  The lance-corporal takes the news to the platoon sergeant, who informs the platoon commander, who may or may not decide to take the opinion of his company commander in the matter.  Anyhow, when the hobbling warrior finally obtains permission to fall out and alleviate his distress, a corporal goes with him, for fear he should lose himself, or his boot—­it is wonderful what Thomas can lose when he sets his mind to it—­or, worst crime of all, his rifle.

Again, if two privates are detailed to empty the regimental ashbin, a junior N.C.O. ranges them in line, calls them to attention, and marches them off to the scene of their labours, decently and in order.  If a soldier obtains leave to go home on furlough for the week-end, he is collected into a party, and, after being inspected to see that his buttons are clean, his hair properly cut, and his nose correctly blown, is marched off to the station, where a ticket is provided for him, and he and his fellow-wayfarers are safely tucked into a third-smoker labelled “Military Party.” (No wonder he sometimes gets lost on arriving at Waterloo!) In short, if there is a job to be done, the senior soldier present chaperons somebody else while he does it.

This system has been attacked on the ground that it breeds loss of self-reliance and initiative.  As a matter of fact, the result is almost exactly the opposite.  Under its operation a soldier rapidly acquires the art of placing himself under the command of his nearest superior in rank; but at the same time he learns with equal rapidity to take command himself if no superior be present—­no bad thing in times of battle and sudden death, when shrapnel is whistling, and promotion is taking place with grim and unceasing automaticity.