The Major’s orderly was soon at Fairfield’s quarters with a message to say that his presence was required by his commanding officer. Fairfield was immediately in attendance. “Mr. Fairfield,” said the Major, “your constant habit of being absent from early drill has obliged me to send the surgeon to ascertain the state of your health, and he reports that you are perfectly well, and I must say that your appearance is anything but that of an invalid—how is this?” “Don’t mind him, sir,” replied Fairfield; “I am, thank God! very well _now_, but when the bugle sounded this morning at four o’clock a cold shivering came over me—I think it was a touch of ague!—and besides, Dr. Gregg is too short a time in the Connaught Rangers to know my _habit_.”—“Is he?” rejoined the old Major, “he must be d—--d stupid then. But that is a charge you surely can’t make against me. I have been now about nineteen years in the regiment, during six of which I have had the pleasure of knowing you, and you will allow me to tell you, that I am not only well acquainted with 'your habit,' but to request you will, from this moment, _change it_”—and with this gentle rebuke he good-humouredly dismissed him. He was an excellent duty officer ever after. A regiment is a piece of mechanism, and requires as much care as any other machine whose parts are obliged to act in unison to keep it going as it ought. If a screw or two be loose, a skilful hand will easily right them without injuring the machine; but if it falls into the hands of a self-sufficient ignorant bungler, it is sure to be injured, if not destroyed altogether; and as certain as the daylight, if it is ever placed in a situation where it must from necessity be allowed to act for itself—where the main spring cannot control the lesser ones much less the great body of the machine—it will be worse than useless—worse than a log—not only in the way, but not to be depended upon!