"What I object to about active service," he said, as I came up, "is the awful hardship we have to put up with. When we were mobilised I didn't anticipate that our path would be exactly strewn with roses, but I confess I never expected this. I shall write to _The Times_. The public ought to know about it;" and he settled himself more deeply into his chair, blew out a cloud of smoke, and with a resolute expression sipped his iced lemonade. _Mr. Punch_, you will be pained to hear that I have lost my hard-earned reputation for sobriety through no fault of my own. A few days ago I went up to the barracks to draw my regimental pay, and found that a number of articles of clothing, issued by the Army authorities, had accumulated for me during my absence--a pair of khaki shorts, a grey flannel shirt with steel buttons the size of sixpences, a pair of worsted socks and three sheets (yes, sheets for the bed; so luxuriously do we fare in India). Perhaps you can guess what happened. "Oh, by the way, have you drawn your clothing?" asked the Lieutenant, when he had paid me. "Yes, Sir," I replied. "What have you got?" "Sheets, shirt, shorts and shocks--shots, sheeks and shirks----" "That will do," he interrupted sternly. "You had better come to me again when you are in a condition to express yourself clearly." Thus easily is a reputation acquired by years of self-control destroyed by the pitfalls of our native tongue. On the other hand, some people have enviable reputations thrust upon them. This is the case with my friend, Private Walls. The other night, half of what remains of the Battalion were called out to repel an expected attack on the barracks by the other half. Walls chanced to be placed in a rather isolated position, and, armed with six rounds of blank, he took cover behind a large boulder, after receiving whispered orders from his officer not to fire if he suspected the approach of the enemy, but to low like an ox, when assistance would immediately be sent to him. Though a little diffident of his powers of lowing, Walls determined to do his best, and fell sound asleep. Now, if you or I had been in his position, an officer would certainly have discovered us in no time, and dire punishment would have followed. But Walls slumbered on undisturbed, until a terrific roar in his ear caused him to wake with a start. What had happened? He seized his rifle and peered into the darkness. Then, to his amazement, he saw the boulder before him rise to its feet and shamble off into the night. It was an ox, and it had lowed! You might think his luck finished there. But no. The officer and his men came stealthily up, and Walls unblushingly declared that he had heard the foe approaching. It may sound incredible, but it is a fact that a few minutes later the enemy did actually appear, and were, of course, driven back after the customary decimation.