_A._ No; on the contrary, the grade of a private in the long run causes considerable expense; and the commission of an officer is inseparable from large expenditure and a loss of self-respect. _Q._ Why is the holding of a commission of a Volunteer officer "inseparable from a loss of self-respect"? _A._ Because, in the general estimation, the holder of a commission in the Volunteers is worthy of ridicule, pity, or contempt. _Q._ Can you give the reason for this impression? _A._ It is probable that it has been created by the consideration that a Volunteer officer is chaffed by his friends, sneered at by his enemies, and mulcted of much money by his comrades. _Q._ Then a Volunteer officer or private usually joins the force from the most patriotic of motives? _A._ Certainly. Nine-tenths of the rank and file and their commanding officers wish to qualify as soldiers capable of repelling a foreign invasion. _Q._ And this being so, they do not wish to spend three or four days of training in practising "marches past" and other man[oe]uvres of a more or less ornamental character? _A._ Quite so; not even when the practice terminates with a review in a royal park, and a salute performed to the strains of the National Anthem. _Q._ Nor do the Volunteers desire to be made into a raree show? _A._ Not even to make a cockney Bank Holiday. _Q._ And if you are told that this is the sort of thing that the Volunteers want, what do you reply? _A._ Nonsense. _Q._ And if it were added that more serious work would be unpopular, what would be your suggestion? _A._ Try and see. * * * * * MEM. FOR VETOISTS.--It is the question of "tied" houses which makes the compensation question so knotty. * * * * * RAILWAY BALLADS. I.--THE EXPRESS TRAIN. A gruesome tale I tell of the West-Eastern Railway Companee. "Its virtues few, its faults a score"-- (I quote the view held heretofore). The chief among its faults, you see, Is sad unpunctualitee. Now, gentles all, list what befel AUGUSTUS HALL, of Camberwell. The Fates were stern, the world unkind; And this, I learn, unhinged his mind. _Che sarà, sarà!_ Think how sad! His evil star it drove him mad! "If life has no more joy to give," Quoth he, "I'll go and cease to live. Nor yet delay an hour to dine, But straightway lay me on the line. "The train now due will end distress-- So haste thee, Two o'clock Express!" With that he'd gone, nor stayed to snack; But climbed upon the railway-track. He waited now two hours--not less; And yet, I vow, came no express! And he had nought his pangs to ease. He wished he'd brought some bread and cheese. He had to fast. He fain would sup. The hours flew past. He sate him up. "'Tis strangely late. I should not mind-- I'd gladly wait--if I had dined.