The information that we were to be inspected by our Great Man on the Friday was handed to me, with the soup, at Thursday's mess. I did not appreciate its horrible significance and, wondering why it should put the older hands off their ration beef, I ate my dinner in the usual manner, cracked a jest or two with the slightly preoccupied Adjutant and C.O., and later on strolled down to my company's billet to inform them that they would be inspected on the morrow. I supposed they would say to each other, "Oh! indeed," and turn in to sleep; but I am credibly informed that they had no bed that night. On the following morning I was dumbfounded by their dazzling appearance and could not help remarking that here at last was the Perfect Thing. I was just sufficiently soldierlike, however, to examine them with an icy disdain before we set out. _En route_ to the rendezvous, I pictured to myself the Great Man's delight at beholding us, his superlative admiration expressed in a voice choked with affectionate emotion, and his final jocular farewell to myself--"As for _your_ company, my dear Henry, it's marvellous." I cannot record the actual event in all its details, which were mostly bootlaces and whiskers. The first I knew of the trouble was a face so ominous as to divert attention even from a splendid uniform. Such was the look in the inspecting eye that, had I been my own master, I should have bowed as lowly as to Allah, and said, "Your Highness, I regret that urgent business at the Bank compels the instant departure of myself (with my company)," and we should have been gone at the double before he had gathered the gist of my remark. As it was, I had to stand fast and pretend that we were all very glad to see him and hoped he would make a long stay with us. At about the third man, he stopped dead, very dead, and called my attention to the fact that this private was all whiskers and no bootlaces. What had I to say to that? I might have said, "So he is, Sir, now I come to look at him. He should, of course, have been all boot-laces and no whisker," or merely, "Well, I never!" or, again, with some truth, "As to his laces, Sir, they were there a minute ago but have just fallen out of his boots; and the hair has all grown on his face while you and I were saluting each other just now." Instead I was mute by the visitation of Heaven and we passed on, to pause at No. 8, whose feet and face also were by now all that they should not be. Again, I was called upon for a speech--in vain. You will notice, Charles, that Brigadiers and Colonels are poltroons at these times; they push the company-commander into the forefront of the battle and skulk behind his back.