you find them, Heaven help you! Their skulls are as shallow as the aborigines, and their tongues as cutting as a circular saw. They swear by The King’s Regulations, and meet every problem by a precise reference to para so-and-so, section something, of the supplement to His Majesty’s manuals of military muddles and laws. They terrify the simpleton by the fierceness of their dogmas, and ruthlessly crush the intellectual by thundering adjectives and cries of—insubordination and arrest. Thoroughly honest, thoroughly patriotic, but equally incompetent. They are tolerated for the simple reason that a shell or the age limit will eventually pass them out. Now, in the Division to which the Glesca Mileeshy belonged there was a G.O.C. of the modern school. He was as big as a Cossack, and as cute as an Oxford Don. Common-sense was his theme; regulations he abhorred. He cursed everything which savoured of stupid obedience and ignorant obstinacy. Yet he had the faculty of humour, and in the midst of a fierce castigation would soothe ruffled pride and vain dignity by a funny yet kindly touch. This G.O.C. was nicknamed "Sunny Jim." Somehow his parents had missed the way to the Peerage and ’Who’s Who?’ Still, his worthy folks had produced an abnormal and interesting type. In a kindly family atmosphere "Sunny Jim" imbibed the true belief that love is the only philosophy to secure happiness and success. In a good public school this genius developed his amazing brain, and at the same time hardened his strong arms. Tin soldiers was his early game. Boy soldiers followed next. He armed his little army with mops, brooms, and carving knives, and, playing on an old frying-pan, marched them out to war. This was the beginning of great things. And from these boyish battles "Sunny Jim" moved into Sandhurst. And in Sandhurst "Sunny Jim" learned the more noble idealism of arms and the bedrock of those things which can be summed up as the chivalry of war. When he joined his regiment he created a stir. He was unorthodox. For example, he upset the tradition of three hundred years by ordering a sentry to stand under a verandah out of the wet; while he shocked his brother officers by eating an apple on the line of march. "It isn’t conventional," his captain remarked. "Oh, hang convention!" was his tart reply. And so he progressed, upsetting all of the portly seniors, who declared that the Army was going to the dogs. While these old gentlemen went off to shoot grouse, "Sunny Jim" went forth to every sort of man-hunting expedition. His sword within ten years had been inside the paunch of many Dervishes, Afridis, hillmen, and negroes. His breast of ribbons told all the tale of days of hardship and of daring. In every scrap he was always "Sunny Jim." That was why he got the charge of the famous "Mixed Division." It was very mixed—twenty thousand gentlemen and scallywags, with little knowledge of war, but a terrible thirst for blood. Jim had to train them. "Get them fit," he ordered.