"Na, I’m in the umbrella trade, ye ken, an’ the wife’s on the road wi’ me. She sells laces, an’ mooches the grub. Man, it’s the best thing I ever did, when I got mairret. There’s naething like a wife tae work for ye, lad." This is a sample of the greetings exchanged over the foaming ale. When all had sufficient, and were more or less groggy about the legs, they sallied out into the streets _en route_ for the barracks. Of course the town was prepared. The Chief Constable had a "Guard of Honour" right to the barracks gate, while the Parish Minister had quietly lectured the old maids and young maids to be indoors on that occasion. The more timid shopkeepers "baured the windows and door," but all the bairns turned out to see the fun. Up the streets they leisurely ambled, some mumbling on the way— "Soon we’ll be married Never more to part, For little Annie Rooney She is my sweetheart." Others warbled— "I’m fu’ the noo, I’m absolutely fu’, But I adore the country I was born in. My name is Jock M’Craw, An’ I dinnae care a straw, For I’ve something in the bottle for the mornin’." But the majority sang— "We’re soldiers of the King, my lads, Who’ve been, my lads, who’ve seen, my lads, The fights for Britain’s Glory, lads, When we’ve had to show them what we mean; And when they ask us how it’s done, We proudly point to every one— Yes, we proudly point to every one Of Britain’s soldiers of the King." And in this stirring tune all eventually joined, formed into a rough formation, and tramped nobly through the barracks gate and on to the square. Colonel Corkleg’s eyes moistened with emotion as he saw them come in. If they were rough dogs, he knew them to be faithful, and he lived for the day when he would lead them into action once more. They were immediately formed into companies, given out their kits, and told to change—but not in the barracks rooms. Oh no, that was never permitted, for the plain reason "that their own clothes could ’walk.’" They changed in the open, which necessitated the drawing of the blinds in the married quarters. All were thankful to discard their unsanitary rags, and feel the comfort of good shirts, uniforms, and boots. The better suits of clothing were packed away, but many of the more tattered and torn had to be destroyed. This outfitting occupied most of the day. At 5 _P.M._ the bugle sounded "Fall in." The parade, of course, was unsteady, nearly every man being fu’. But when old Colonel Corkleg yelled, "Glesca Mileeshy—’Shun," there was a lull and a steadiness which displayed the soldier born. "All present, sir," reported the adjutant.