BUTS AT BISLEY

(Compiled by an evil-minded enthusiast)

The shooting could not be more satisfactory but for the customary "accident."

Everyone would make a "bull" but for the haze and the shiftiness of the wind.

The catering is in every way excellent, but heavy meals scarcely assist in getting on the target.

It is delightful to entertain visitors—especially ladies—at the camp, but champagne-cup and provisions generally run into money.

It is healthy to sleep under canvas, but when the thermometer marks ninety in the shade or the rain pours down in torrents a bed in an inn is preferable.

Bisley is a beautiful place, but Woking cemetery is a dismal neighbour.

Distinctly it is nobly patriotic to spend a fortnight with the N. R. A., in the cause of the fatherland, but is it quite worth the trouble?

Swagger Yeomanry Officer. "Bring out my charger."

Job-master's Foreman. "Very sorry, sir, but e's just gorn to a funeral!"

He always wondered Himself.

(Scene—General Inspection of Volunteer Battalion. Lieut. Tompkins—excellent fellow, but poor soldier—called out to show the General and British public what he knows.)

General. "Now, sir, you now have the battalion in quarter column facing south. How would you get into line, in the quickest possible way, facing north-east?"

Tompkins (after much fruitless consideration). "Well, sir, do you know, that's always what I've wondered."

[Report on subaltern officers—bad.

First Miserable Sub (left at the depot). "I can't think, for the life of me, what excuse for two days' leave I'm to give the C. O. I've already weighed in with every one I can think of."

Second M. S. "Easy enough, old chap. Kill your grandmother."

First M. S. "Can't, dear boy. I'm keeping her for the Derby!"

"The Way we had in the Army." (1877).

Colonel (of the pre-examination period—to studious sub). "I say, youngster, you'll never make a soldier if you don't mind what you're about!"

Sub (mildly). "I should be sorry to think that, sir!"

Colonel. "I saw you sneaking up the High Street yesterday, looking like a Methodist parson in reduced circumstances!—Hold up your head, sir! Buy a stick, sir! Slap your leg, sir! And stare at the girls at the windows!"

"The 'orrid mess master made my kitching in, and hisself too, a-cleaning that there dratted rifle, after he'd been a booviackin' in the park!"

A Dilemma.

Auxiliary Recruit (to himself). "Murder! Murder! What'll I do now? 'Drill-sarjint tould me always to salute me officer with the far-off hand, and here's two iv 'em! Faix, I'll make it straight for meself anyhow!"

[Throws up both hands.

"Off!"

Sergeant O'Leary. "Double! Left! Right! What the blazes, Pat Rooney, d'ye mane by not doublin' wid the squad?"

Pat. "Shure, sergeant, 'twasn't a fair start"!

"Lucus a Non," &c.

(Aiming drill.)

Musketry Instructor. "Now, then! How do you 'xpect to see the hobject haimed at, if you don't keep your heye closed?"

Our Manœuvres.

Captain of Skirmishers (rushing in to seize picket sentries of the enemy). "Hullo! He-ar! You surrender to this company!"

Opposition Lance-Corporal. "Beg pardon, sir! It's the other way, sir. We're a brigade, sir!!!"

Military Ardour.

Sentry (with mixed ideas of manual and platoon). "Gar'd t'n out!"

Commandant. "Bless you, sir, what are you about?"

Sentry. "Shure, I'm waitin' for the worr'd foire!"

[Extract from Field Exercise or Red Book, pocket edition, page 356:—Sentries paying compliments: "To field officers he will present arms."

Volunteer Tactics at our Autumn Manœuvres.

Captain Wilkinson (excitedly, to Major Walker, of the firm of Wilkinson, Walker, & Co., Auctioneers and Estate Agents). "Don't you think we'd better bring our right wing round to attack the enemy's flank, so as to prevent their occupying those empty houses we have to let in Barker's Lane?"

A Poser.

Sergeant-Major. "Now, Private Smith, you know very well none but officers and non-commissioned officers are allowed to walk across this grass!"

Private Smith. "But, sergeant-major, I've Captain Graham's verbal orders to——"

Sergeant-Major. "None o' that, sir! Show me the captain's verbal orders! Show'm to me, sir!!"

"Follow my Leader!"

Captain Barble (East Suffolkshire R. V.) going to drill, has occasion to pass a certain window for reasons best known to himself. A vague idea possesses him that something is wrong somehow, or what should create such amusement on this occasion!