TO-MORROW.
"To-morrow," said the brave young subaltern, "if my Company Commander curses my men for having long hair, I'll whip off his own hat and show him to be three weeks overdue at the barber's.
"To-morrow, if the Adjutant finds fault with my salute, I'll give him a faithful imitation of his own ridiculous ear-flip.
"To-morrow, if the Major strafes me for my handling of the platoon on the barrack-square, I'll challenge him to detail 'presenting arms, by numbers.'
"To-morrow, if the Colonel checks my men for being slovenly turned out on parade, I'll publicly point out to him that the buttons of his own pockets are undone and that the ends of his bootlaces are hanging out.
"To-morrow, if the General curses a man for rubbing his nose while at attention, I'll openly suggest to him that it is not smart and soldierlike to slouch along with one hand in your pocket while inspecting the ranks.
"To-morrow, if I get the chance, I'll do all these things. I have put off doing them far too long."
So spake the brave young subaltern, knowing full well that he is to be demobbed to-day.
"A Tooting hen is laying two eggs a day."—Evening Paper.
Then it seems to us that she is quite justified in tooting.
