loftiness, that tickled the dear souls up. . . . Now primarily my story concerns Reginald Simpkins and his transformation to manhood. And therefore, before I tell of the raid itself, I will touch on one or two matters concerning that transformation, and the methods of the Honourable James. D Company won the toss, so to speak, and was deputed to perform; and Reginald Simpkins was not in D Company. Being a sniper, he was attached to that mystic band of specialists who adorn battalion headquarters. And so, one morning, the snipers were assembled and the Adjutant gazed at them benignly through his eyeglass. "D Company are going to raid the Huns," he remarked. "I want six volunteers to go with them." The result was as he anticipated. "I said six, not the whole bunch," he continued genially, "so I'll have to draw lots." Now nothing would induce me to hint that everything was not perfectly square in that drawing, but--Reginald Simpkins was one of the six. In due course his part in the programme was explained to him, and during the explanation his face became more and more suggestive of a street corner on a rainy day. "You understand what you have to do, Simpkins?" The Honourable James looked at him keenly. "Yes, sir, I understand; but--but--ain't I to have a go at the swine at all?" Our friend's grievance boiled over. "Can't I just go into the trench once and have a go at them? It'll be a bit hard sitting by the tree stump, and hearing the boys at it, and having to . . . ." His words died away under the steady glance of the man opposite. "And because it's a bit hard, you don't want to do it?" "It ain't that, sir, it's--it's----" "Well, what is it? Not the showy part of the performance, eh? Not the part where the fun comes--sitting by a bank and taking the roll as they come back. But some one has to do it--why not you?" The second lesson in the making of a soldier--subordination of self. . . . As a matter of fact there was no reason why Reginald should have been deputed to the job: there were many others who could have done it equally well if not better. But the Honourable Jimmy had his own methods. . . . The desire for the game was there in the pupil: that he knew: the point was whether the character which would suppress and master that desire when necessary was there too. Could reliability be added to keenness? . . . That was what the Adjutant wished to find out. He knew that our friend was--in the vernacular--throwing a chest. He knew that lately, well, Reginald Simpkins had been rather full of--Reginald Simpkins. Adjutants--good Adjutants--do know these things. Which was all to the good--within certain limits. . . . An unpromising subject had learned the first lesson of the soldier: would he be able to learn the second, without which the third and greatest would be impossible? All soldiers must learn the first lesson; only a limited number can learn the second and third.