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“DRILLING.”

Sweet Amy asked, with pleading eyes, “Dear Charley, teach me, will you, The words I've heard your Captain say, I should so like to drill you?”

“What! little one, you take command! Well, Amy, I'm quite willing, In such a company as yours I can't have too much drilling.

Stand over there, and sing out clear, Like this, Squad—Stand at ease.” “Oh, Charles, you'll wake paps up stairs, Don't shout like that, dear, please.”

“I stand at ease, like this, you see! And then I scarce need mention, The next command you'll have to give Is this one, Squad—Attention!

Now, Amy, smartly, after me, (you're sure, dear, it don't bore you?) Forward—Quick March—Halt—Front—Right Dress— There now, I'm close before you!

Present Arms—Well, it does look odd, You don't believe I'd trifle, We hold our arms straight out, like this, In drill without the rifle.

Now say, Salute your officer;” “Oh, Charles, for shame, how can you! I thought that you were at some trick you horrid, cheating, man, you.”

Charles “ordered arms” without command, She smoothed her rumpled hair, And pouted, frowned, and blushed, and then Said softly—“As you were!”

Volunteer Garrison, Sunderland. W. E. W.