"They're like us—they hinna got muckle brains. The Mileeshy's for orphans, unemployed, an' daft folk. But it's the back door tae the Army. If ye can get yer brains an' chest measurement up in the Mileeshy, they'll tak' ye intae the Regulars."
"An' whut are the Non-Commeesioned Officers for?" inquired Spud, still anxious to learn.
"Tae dae a' the dirty work. Ye see, [pg 38] we're a' supposed to be like cuddies—broad backs an' saft heids. The Non-Coms. are peyed tae whup us on—see?"
"Then hoo d'ye get stripes?"
"Some chaps get made lance-corporal for bein' smert; ithers get it for giein' the colour-sergint ten bob. An' some get the stripe for makin' up tae the officer."
"But that's no richt, Ginger?"
"Naethin's richt in the sodgers. Ye're no' supposed tae think. If ye think owre much they'll pit ye in the nick for insubordination. That's whut they ca' Disceeplin. If ye waant tae get on in the Mileeshy, kid ye're daft, an' gie the salaam tae everybody. That's hoo tae get a staff job."
[pg 39]
CHAPTER V.
CANTEEN YARNS.
The unwritten laws of the Glesca Mileeshy were as rigid as the etiquette of the Brigade of Guards. The most important was that which compelled recruits to "stand their hand," or, in plain English, give free drinks all round. This to the cultured instinct may seem a somewhat coarse enactment, but to an old Militia hand, possessed of an Indian thirst, it was all-important and always demanded. The recruit's first pay-day was usually selected for this purpose. Pay-day in the Militia, I may say, is just a sort of Dante's Inferno in miniature. And in the times of Spud Tamson the weekly pay amounted to one shilling per day. This would not keep a millionaire in matches, but it was sufficient to lure to the barracks' gate the official and unofficial wives of this [pg 40] regiment, as well as to rouse in the breasts of their noble lovers dreams of foaming ale and nights of song and story.