horseback, and ask company commanders what they are doing; and no
company commander has ever yet succeeded in framing an answer which
sounds in the least degree credible. There are three generals; we call
them Freeman, Hardy, and Willis, because we suspect that they
are all--to judge from their fondness for keeping us on the
run--financially interested in the consumption of shoe-leather.
In other respects they differ, and a wise company commander will
carefully bear their idiosyncrasies in mind and act accordingly, if he
wishes to be regarded as an intelligent officer.)

Freeman is a man of action. He likes to see people running about. When
he appears upon the horizon whole battalions break into a double.

Hardy is one of the old school: he likes things done decently and in
order. He worships bright buttons, and exact words of command, and a
perfectly wheeling line. He mistrusts unconventional movements and
individual tactics. "No use trying to run," he says, "before you can
walk." When we see him, we dress the company and advance in review
order.

Willis gives little trouble. He seldom criticises, but when he does
his criticism is always of a valuable nature; and he is particularly
courteous and helpful to young officers. But, like lesser men, he has
his fads. These are two--feet and cookery. He has been known to call a
private out of the ranks on a route-march and request him to take his
boots off for purposes of public display. "A soldier marches on two
things," he announces--"his feet and his stomach." Then he calls up
another man and asks him if he knows how to make a sea-pie. The man
never does know, which is fortunate, for otherwise General Willis
would not be able to tell him. After that he trots happily away, to