The Great Man interrupted his examination to chat with his A.D.C., mainly, I fancy, about whiskers and bootlaces. Being also interested in the subject, I took the opportunity to look along my company and see (believe me or not, as you please) the whiskers coming into existence and the laces going out.... I gathered later that things were much the same with every company in the brigade. The Brigadier gathered this also, but at once and from the Great Man. That night the Brigadier sent for our C.O. The next morning our C.O. sent for us. In due sequence we sent for our section-commanders, and what was left of them, when we had finished, went to interview the private. The last-named, having no one to whom to express his contempt, utter loathing and devilish intentions for the future, adopted the only alternative and took the necessary action. The news of a second inspection reached me a week in advance, during which I took no food because I was left no time and had no appetite. It was a gloomy period, which was relieved only by two small incidents. The one took place at the C.O.'s inspection, and I will call it "The Private and the Toothbrush." Asked why it was so black, he replied that he cleaned his teeth with permanganate of potash, thus defeating the little crowd inspecting him, since none knew whether that chemical could be used for cleaning teeth and, if it could, whether it would turn the brush black. The other I will call "The Memo. of the Transport Officer," who was so upset by what was said to him that he "begged to certify that he had that day purchased 3 new altars for his Transport service." This was officially passed on to me to cheer me up a little, and I am authorised to divulge it to you. The week elapsed in a hurricane of harsh oaths, and again I paraded my company. Upon examination it now appeared to me to be the most revoltingly untidy and deficient sight I had ever seen, an opinion heartily endorsed by the Adjutant, C.O. and Brigadier. _En route_ to the rendezvous this time I pictured nothing to myself; I merely shifted my service revolver to a position from which I could more easily destroy myself in an emergency.... And when the Great Man approached he smiled at me, and no sooner had he remarked to his A.D.C. that the buttons and bayonets of the brigade did credit to all concerned than those stolidly dull buttons of mine brightened up and bayonets grew where before there had been empty and depressed scabbards.