It was at something drift that we gave our first official dinner; we had secured a roomy farm-house with some bits of furniture, so, relying on Wopples, we launched into hospitality. And Wopples had surpassed himself. There was a haunch of venison which brought tears of joy to the five eyes of the three generals who partook of it--no mere common haunch, there were several such in camp that night--this was a haunch that had been through the hands of Wopples. Then there was his extra special _entree_--but that is another course. It was a dinner that might be eaten, but could never be described. Next day I was gently approached by many red tabs. The Provost-Marshal said I was just the sort of chap for his department if I'd care to come; a R.E. enthusiast told me that a balloon was the only place for a real good view of a show and "he'd work the matter for me"; somebody on the intelligence said there was a real well-paid billet he'd been keeping open on purpose for me; and two of the generals declared piteously that they could not get on without my services. The third general had not recovered the dinner, but sent a grinning A.D.C. to represent him. After that his lordship shut me and Wopples up together in his own room and kept guard outside himself. "We'll take care of you, Binks; we'll get you made a local major, and you shall ride the general's horse as you've lost all your own. I'll find you a Tommy's blanket, by Jove I will! and demme, I'll give you my own second shirt; but I'll be shot if you leave our camp, my boy--shot and starved!" ANONYMOUS. * * * * * SOLDIERS' BATTLES AND GENERALS' CAMPAIGNS. BY JAMES BARNES. The writer, an American, who served during the Cuban war, has been asked to compare the present heated argument with the late unpleasantness in the Antilles. It is rather difficult to draw any comparisons between this war in South Africa and the late conflict in Cuba. It is like comparing two games differing in rules and methods, and resembling one another only in the fact that they are played with bat and ball. One of the strange things about the war in the West Indies was this--when it was over the world waited for the lesson, and there was none in the proper sense of the word. The God of battles must have been with America from start to finish; ours was the good fortune; we had all the luck. It was a series of miracles. Naval men waited to see the great things torpedo-boats would accomplish, and two of the much-dreaded machines were sunk by a millionaire's pleasure-craft transformed into a gun-boat. Vessels with armoured belts and protective decks were set on fire in the old-fashioned way by exploding shells igniting their wood-work. Dewey's victory at Manila was accomplished without loss of life on the American side, and Sampson's victory at Santiago was almost as wonderful--but one man killed and a few slightly wounded.