could suggest an eleventh plague to him beside which frogs and flies were
an afternoon's diversion.

Oct. 3.--Householders of Berkhamsted busy mending bedsteads broken by
last year's billets, and buying patent taps for their beer-barrels.

Oct. 15.--Informed that a representative of the Army wished to see me.
Instead of my old friend Q.M.S. Beddem, who generally returns to life at
this time of year, found that it was an officer of magnificent presence
and two pips. A fine figure of a man, with a great resemblance to the
late lamented Bismarck, minus the moustache and the three hairs on the
top of the head. Asked him to be seated. He selected a chair that was
all arms and legs and no hips to speak of and crushed himself into it.
After which he unfastened his belt and "swelled wisibly afore my werry
eyes." Said that his name was True Born and asked if it made any
difference to me whether I had one officer or half-a-dozen men billeted
on me. Said that he was the officer, and that as the rank-and-file were
not allowed to pollute the same atmosphere, thought I should score.
After a mental review of all I could remember of the Weights and Measures
Table, accepted him. He bade a lingering farewell to the chair, and
departed.

Oct. 16.--Saw Q.M.S. Beddem on the other side of the road and gave him
an absolutely new thrill by crossing to meet him. Asked diffidently--as
diffidently as he could, that is--how many men my house would hold.
Replied eight--or ten at a pinch. He gave me a surprised and beaming
smile and whipped out a huge note-book. Informed him with as much regret
as I could put into a voice not always under perfect control, that I had
already got an officer. Q.M.S., favouring me with a look very
appropriate to the Devil's Own, turned on his heel and set off in pursuit