p.

Our Fat Contributor in the Home
Guard

The moment the Flag was threatened, large
bodies of men were called upon to rally in its
defence. Being a large-bodied man, I rallied,
and enrolled myself with the Home Guards.
The drill is very severe on me this hot weath-
er, although I am constantly allowed an at-
tendand with a fan and a pitcher of ice water.

I am constantly reminded that one of the
first requirements of a soldier is to throw out
his chest and draw in his stomach. Having
been burned out several times while occupy-
ing rooms in an attic, I have had considera-
ble practice in throwing out my chest, but by
what system of practice could I ever hope to
draw in my stomach? I can't 'dress up' --
it's no use trying. If my vest buttons are in
line I am far in the rear, and if I toe the
mark, a fearful bulge indicates my position.
(There is no room for argument in regard to
my sentiments - everybody can see at a glance
just where I stand.) One evening we had a
new drill sergeant who was near-sighted.
Running his eye down the line, he exclaimed
sharply:

"What is that man doing in the ranks
with a bass drum?"

He pointed at me, but I hadn't any drum
- it was the surplus stomach that I couldn't
draw in.

I am the butt of numberless jokes, as you
may well suppose. They have got a story in
the Guards that when I first heard the com-
mand, "Order arms!" I dropped my mus-
ket, and taking out my note-book began to
draw an order on the Governor for what
arms I wanted. They say I ordered a Wi-
nans steam gun, with a pair of Dahlgren
howitzers for side arms! Base fabricators!
My ambition never extended beyond a rifled
cannon, and they knew it.

Although in respect to size I belong to the
"heavies," my preference is for the light in-
fantry service. My knapsack is marked
light infantry. One evening the spectators
seemed confused about something, and my
comrades tittered by platoons whenever my
back was turned. It was all a mystery to
me until I laid off my knapsack. Some
wretch had erased the two final letters, and I
had been parading all evening labelled
"LIGHT INFANT!" The above is one of the
thousand annoyances to which I am subjec-
ed, and nothing but my consuming patriot-
ism could ever induce me to submit to it. I
rallied at the call of my country, and am
not to be put out by the rallying of my com-
rades. [unclear handwritten note]

I overheard a spectator inquire of the drill-
sergeant on day: [unclear handwritten note]

"Do you drill the whole of him at once?"

"No," he returned in an awful whisper.
"I drill him by squads! " [handwritten note: guess I will]

I would have drilled him if I had had a
bayonet. [unclear handwritten note]

Specifications have been published in re-
gard to my uniform, and contractors adver-
tised for. The making will be let out to the
lowest responsible bidder. In case the
Guards are ordered to take the field, a special
commissary will be detailed to supply my
rations. That reminds me of a harrowing
incident. On last drill night an old farmer,
who dropped in to see us drill, took me aside
and said he wanted to sell me a yoke of
powerful oxen.

"My ancient agriculturalist," said I, smil-
ing at his simplicity, "I have no use for
oxen."

"Perhaps not at present," quoth he, "but
if you go to war you will want them."

"For what?" said I, considerably annoyed.

"Want 'em to draw your rations! "

The guards paid me a delicate compliment
at the last meeting. They elected me "Child
of the Regiment," with the rank of first
Corpulent, with the pay of chief "Blowyer."
I was about to return thanks in a neat and
appropriate speech, when a reported who was
present assured me it was no use - he had got
the whole thing in type, speech and all, and
I could read it in the evening paper. He
said they kept a "neat and appropriate
speech" standing in type continually. I got
his views, and held my peace.

[unclear handwritten note]