Sir E. Cl-rke.—­A scarlet Jersey, inscribed “Salvation Army.”

Mr. R. Sp-nc-r.—­A Smock Frock.

Mr. B-lf-r.—­Some Collars of Irish linen, and one of hemp, the latter to be supplied by the Irish patriots in America.

Mr. E. St-nh-pe.—­A Necktie of green poplin, embroidered with shamrocks.

Mr. M. H-ly.—­An Ulster.

Col.  S-nd-rs-n.—­A Cork jacket.

Mr. W. O’Br-n.—­A pair of Tr——­rs, in fancy cretonne.

Sir G.O.  Tr-v-ly-n.—­A Coat (reversible).

Mr. C. C-nyb-re.—­A Waistcoat (strait).

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “UNDERSTOOD.”

“I SAY, DUBOIS, YOU DO KNOW HOW TO LAY IT ON THICK, OLD MAN!  I LIKE YOUR CHEEK TELLING MISS BROWN SHE SPOKE FRENCH WITHOUT THE LEAST ACCENT!”

“VY, CERTAINEMENT, MON AMI—­VIZOUT ZE LEAST FRENCH ACCENT!”]

* * * * *

“THE (SOLDIERS’) LIFE WE LIVE.”

(Imaginary Evidence that should be added to the Report of Lord Wantage’s Committee.)

Chairman. I think your name is RICHARD REDMOND?

Witness. I beg pardon, my Lord and Gentlemen—­DICK REDMOND—­simple, gushing, explosive DICK.

Chair. Have you been known by any other name?

Wit. Off duty, my Lord, I have been called CHARLES WARNER.  Nay, why should I not confess it?—­CHARLIE WARNER.  Yes, my Lord, CHARLIE WARNER!

Chair. You wish to describe how you were enlisted?

Wit. Yes, my Lord.  It was in this way.  I had returned from some races in a dog-cart with a villain.  We stopped at a wayside public-house kept by a comic Irishman.

Chair. Are these details necessary?

Wit. Hear me, my Lord; hear me!  I confess it, I took too much to drink.  Yes, my Lord, I was drunk!  And then a Sergeant in the Dragoon Guards gave me a shilling, and placed some ribands in my pot-hat, and—­well—­I was a soldier!  Yes, a soldier!  And as a soldier was refused permission to visit my dying mother!

Chair. Were there no other legal formalities in connection with your enlistment?  For instance—­Were you not taken before an attesting Magistrate?

Wit. No, my Lord, no!  I was carried off protesting, while my villanous friend disappeared with my sweetheart!  It was cruel, my Lord and Gentlemen!  It was very cruel!

Chair. Did you desert?

Wit. I did, my Lord—­after I had obtained a uniform fitting closely to the figure; but it was only that I might obtain the blessing of my mother!  And when I returned home the soldiers followed me—­and might have killed me!

Chair. How was that?

Wit. When I had taken refuge in a haystack, they prodded the haystack with their swords!  And this is life in the Army!