"Chargin'," said the Junior Subaltern, "is all bally rot; and when we carried a beastly sword it was positively dangerous. You blew your whistle, bolted out in front of your men, howled 'Char-r-r-ge!' shoved your foot in a hole, or got the scabbard between your legs an' came a regular mucker, and then some idiot behind either jumped on you or tripped over you, an' most likely prodded you with his bally bayonet."
M.G.
Extract from Diary.—"We got our Maxim into a capital position on the flank, but before we could fire a shot we were put out of action for some time."
