ther than those contained in this Manual or any practice of methods

flies rolled up, had glanced at rifles, and had inspected the men's kits with the pensive air of an intending purchaser. Having done which, they proceeded to take

rderly officer dolefully exclaimed as he contemplated a pile of letters w

ked pleasantly. "It's a bad habit and will grow on you. When you go home

ned aside from the subaltern, who has a beautiful pink and w

l here who's A1 at instruction." As we passed, the sentry brought his right hand smartly across the

ir prerogatives. Concerning Light Infantry much might be written that is not to be found in the regimental records. As, for example, the reason why the whole Army shouts "H.L.I." whenever the ball is kicked into touch; also why the Oxford L.I. always put out their tongues when they meet the Durhams. Some day some one will write the legendary history of the British Army,

nkling in the sun like miniature heliographs. From all quarters of the field sharp words of command rang out like pistol shots. "Three hundred. Five rounds. Fire." As the men obeyed the sergeant's word of command, the air resounded with the clicking of bolts lik

"What you've got to do is to get the other fellow, and I don't ca

orward at the breasts of the men opposite. "Rest!" The rifles were brought to earth between twelve pairs of feet

bayonets confronting you. Each rank knocked an imaginary bayonet aside and pointed at invisible feet. The high parry followed. So far the men had been merely nodding at each other across a s

ly out of his mouth before he had thrown himself upon the nearest private and laid him prostrate. The others smiled faintly as No. 98678 picked himself up and nonchalantly returned to his old position as if this were a ba

explained. "Don't think you're Tottenham Hotspur in the Cup Final. Never mind giving 'im a foul. You've got to 'urt 'im or 'e'll 'urt you. Kick 'im anywhere with your knees or your feet. Your ammunition boots will make 'im feel it. No!"-he turned to a young private whose l

he game; the automatic movements come all right, but in a clinch you've got to fight like a cat with tooth and claw, use your boots, your knee, or anything that comes handy. Perhaps that's why your lithe litt

plated the completion of his labours with gloomy satisfaction. "But it's very interesting-such a revelation of the emotions of ba

nt with the new drafts. I forgot to tell you we were in a bit of a

ving so

he British soldier is an artist with the bayonet. But he