I
ARMY REFORM
SCENE.--_The drawing-room of the Colonel's quarters, decorated with
trophies from many lands and water-colour sketches. Mrs. Bulkwise, the
Colonel's wife, a tall, broad and assertive lady, is giving tea to Mrs.
Lyttleton-Cartwright, with the stamp of fashion upon her, and Mrs.
Karmadine, who has a soul for art--both ladies of the regiment. Colonel
Bulkwise, a small and despondent man whose hair is "part-worn" gazes
morosely into the fire_.
_Mrs. Bulkwise_ (_waving a tea cup_). As surely as woman is asserting
her right to a place in medicine, in law, and in the council, so surely
will she take her proper place in the control of the army.
_Mrs. Lyttleton-Cartwright._ What a lovely costume one could compose out
of the uniform. I've often tried Jack's tunic on.
_Mrs. B._ (_severely_). The mere brutal work of fighting, the butchery
of the trade, would still have to be left to the men; but such matters
as require higher intelligence, keener wit, tact, perseverance, should
be, and some day _shall_ be, in our hands.
_Mrs. Karmadine._ And the beauty and grace of life, Mrs. Bulkwise.
Surely we women, if allowed, could in peace bring culture to the
barrack-room, and garland the sword with bay wreaths?
_Mrs. B._ Take the War Office. I am told that the ranks of the regiments
are depleted of combatant officers in order that they may sit in offices
in Pall Mall, and do clerical work indifferently. Now, I hold that our
sex could do this work better, more cheaply, and with greater dispatch.
_Mrs. L.-C._ "Pall-Mall" would be such an excellent address.
_Mrs. B._ The young men, both officers and civilians, who are employed
waste, so I understand, the time of the public by going out to lunch at
clubs and frequently pause in their work to smoke cigars and discuss the
odds. Now a glass of milk, or some claret and lemonade, a slice of
seed-cake, or some tartlets, brought by a maid from the nearest A. B. C.
shop would satisfy all our mid-day wants.
_Mrs. L.-C._ And I never knew a woman who couldn't work and talk bonnets
at the same time.
_Mrs. C._ Just a few palms--don't you think, Mrs. Bulkwise?--in those
dreary, _dreary_ rooms, and some oriental rugs on the floors, and a
little bunch of flowers on each desk would make life so much easier to
live.
[_Colonel Bulkwise murmurs something unintelligible_.
_Mrs. B._ What do you say, George?
_Colonel B. (with sudden fierceness)._ I said, that there are too many
old women, as it is, in the War Office.
_Mrs. B._ George!
[_The colonel relapses again into morose silence._
_Mrs. B._ The Intelligence Department should, of course, be in our
hands.
_Mrs. L.-C._ I should just love to run about all the time, finding out
other people's secrets.
_Mrs. B._ And the Clothing Department calls for a woman's knowledge. The
hideous snuff-coloured garments must be retained for warfare, but with
the new costume for walking out and ceremonial I think something might
be done.
_Mrs. L.-C._ The woman who makes my frocks is as clever as she can be,
and always has her head full of ideas for those sort of things.
_Mrs. C._ Michel Angelo did not disdain to design the uniform of the
Swiss Guard. Perhaps Gilbert, or Ford, or Brock might follow in the
giant's footsteps.
_Col. B._ You ladies always design such sensible clothes for yourselves,
do you not?
[_He is frozen into silence again._
_Mrs. B._ And the education of young officers. From a cursory glance
through my husband's books on law, topography and administration, I
should say that there are no military subjects that the average woman
could not master in a fortnight. Strategy, of course, comes to us by
intuition. The companionship and influence of really good women on
youths and young men cannot be over-rated, and the professors both at
the Staff College and at the Military Academy should be of our sex.
_Mrs. L.-C._ I always love the boys; but I think some of the staff
college men are awfully stuck up.
_Mrs. B._ Now as to the regiment. The mess, of course, should be in our
province.
_Mrs. L.-C._ How ripping. The guest-nights would be lovely dinner
parties, the ante-room we'd use for tea, and the band should always play
from 5 to 6. We'd have afternoon dances every Thursday, and turn the men
out once a week and have a dinner all to ourselves to talk scandal.
[_The colonel groans._
* * * * *
[Illustration: "REGIMENTAL ORDERS"!
_Volunteer Captain._ "Ah, Sergeant Jones--didn't I send you an order to
be at headquarters on Monday, at nine o'clock, with a corporal and six
men for duty?"
_Sergeant._ "Yes, sir. But I think if there was a little more 'request',
and a little less 'order', it would be (_a-hem_)--better!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "BOBS"
An Indian idol--as worshipped by Mr. Thomas Atkins.
(_The property of the British nation._)]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "BOBS" AS A BOBBIE
["CORONATION CLAIMS.--There being no succession to certain offices,
the appointment thereto rests with His Majesty, and the following
are regarded as probable candidates:--Lord High Constable--The Earl
Roberts," &c.--_Vide Daily Mail_, Nov. 19, 1901.]
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: SORROWS OF A SUBALTERN
"Curious way that boy has of salutin'. Don't believe it's correct!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE DOG!--_(A romance of real life.)_
_The Gallant Major._ "I beg a thousand pardons for the apparent liberty
I take as an entire stranger, but may I make so bold as to ask you, is
not this one of that wonderful breed of black or Chinese pugs?"
_The Pretty Lady (most condescendingly)._ "Yes, you are perfectly right,
and if I am not mistaken, you are Major McBride, of the Ninety-ninth
Hussars."
[_From that moment they became fast friends, and within the next
three months there appeared in the "Morning Post," 'A marriage has
been arranged between Major McBride, of the Ninety-ninth Hussars,
and Mrs. Bellairs,' &c., &c._
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "ONE OF OUR CONQUERORS."
_Imperial Yeoman._ "Much obliged if you would pick up my sword for me."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: TOMMY'S SUNDAY AFTERNOON AS IT WILL BE
["It has been decreed in several line battalions that in future no
soldier will be allowed to walk arm-in-arm in the street with a
female."--_Daily Paper._]
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "Oh! I say! 'E 'as got eyes after all!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Doctor._ "Don't feel well, eh? Appetite all right?"
_Tommie._ "Eat like a wolf, sir."
_Doctor._ "Sleep well?"
_Tommie._ "As sound as a dog, sir."
_Doctor._ "Oh, you'd better see the vet.!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE JOKE THAT FAILED
_Lubber._ "I say, Jack, do you know why they've painted the ships grey
in time of _peace_?"
_Jack._ "I s'pose 'cos it's a _neutral_ tint!"
[_But the other didn't laugh. He intended making that witticism
himself._
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: SCENE ON BOARD H.M.S.----
"I say, why am I like the Queen's chief cook? Do you give it up?"
"Yes."
"Because I am in a high cool-and-airy (_culinary_) position."
[_Astonished cadet nearly falls from the yard_.
You young monkey, how dare you joke up in the air like that? However, we
look over it this time.--_Punch_]
* * * * *
[Illustration: An economical mode of putting troops into white
trowsers.]
* * * * *