"Oh, a mess-tent is as good a place as anywhere else if the cookery and wines are all right," was the only reply I received that had the slightest bearing on the military situation. Then my companions refused to talk of anything further save the racing fixtures for the following fortnight.
At Aldershot I found a number of omnibuses drawn up, labelled "House of Commons," which were soon occupied by elderly ladies, who appeared to be excellent representatives of our Legislators. Seeing that the flymen had arranged a tariff that measured distances with sovereigns, and hours with bank-notes, I determined to walk to the Long Valley, and my example was largely followed. Smartly-gowned ladies, and men whose attire suggested the shady side of Pall-Mall, dispensed with all conveyances, and sturdily trudged to the review ground, to the intense disgust of the cabmen, whose harvest could not have been particularly lucrative. The only vehicles that we saw on the road were waggons filled with country-folk, and harnessed to heavy lumbering cart-horses, that moved very deliberately and slowly, and now and again a London coach. A specimen of the last came up to me just as I was getting out of the town—it was occupied by a company of ladies and gentlemen with an up-all-night look about them. As a matter of fact, I believe it had started shortly after midnight, or thereabouts. I recognised one of the occupants, who, until he caught my eye, had seemed rather depressed, but who, upon exchanging greetings with me, assumed a most jovial air, and seemed quite to wake up. He subsequently told me that he had never enjoyed himself so much. "Up over-night, you see, then a long drive in the dawn and early morning, getting to Aldershot before the Queen. Review, lunch, and home again." The last item, I fancy, must have been rather an anti-climax, although my friend would not admit it. However, I have a kind of instinct that should there be another big Review, he will choose the rail in preference to the road.
As I passed the barracks I could not help admiring the waggery of the Military Authorities in setting up placards requesting "the Public not to walk on the grass." The light-hearted Authorities (it is scarcely necessary to say to those who know the latent humour in the breasts of the Head-quarters' Staff) had selected a site for these posters where no grass would grow. From the hurry-skurry observable on all sides, I gathered that the Procession was on its way—a supposition that was turned into certainty by the boom of a Royal Salute. And yet I was miles from my seat! There was only one thing to do—to force my way down a road that had been closed since nine o'clock. The entrance to this pathway was guarded by a mounted sentry. I approached him, and showed him my pass, which made me free of all "camps and bivouacs." He complained that he was not a "camp," but had nothing to urge in denial when I insisted that "then he must be a bivouac." As some dozens of others were attempting to force the passage, he allowed me to pass, and from that moment practically the British Army was at my mercy. No provision had been made to deal with spectators when once the gallant Scots Grey had been passed. Thus I was able to lead the Royal Procession, and was greatly pleased to find every one on the alert. Battalion after battalion seemed to me well set up, and the Duke of Cambridge with his drawn sabre left nothing to be desired. I inspected them all, and can certainly say that I had not to stop to re-arrange a belt or even a general-officer's scabbard. This being the case, my movements were rapid, but not faster than those of the Derby Dog. In the fearful heat I found my seat (a very comfortable one) close to the saluting point, and then was prepared to see the march-past. The bands struck up. "George Ranger" waved his sword and there was a shout. Then came the tramp of armed men, and it occurred to me that after a very long run, I could scarcely do better than close my eyes. I found by doing this that I could think the matter out. What had perplexed me on the road down was how I should find the mess of the particular regiment that had honoured me with a card of invitation for luncheon.
I soon made up my mind that I had better ask my way. This I did, and found the country Constabulary most intelligent. As I had come to Aldershot to see the soldiers, rather than to enjoy the pleasures of the table, it would perhaps be out of place to mention here how good lobster salad is when you are really hungry, and how very grateful to the palate claret cup appears when one has had nothing to drink for many hours. Enough to say, I enjoyed myself thoroughly, and catching a train to Waterloo, was once more at home.
On reading my notes I find that I have left unanswered the question with which I commenced this article. I was sent to Aldershot to "deduce from the display, the exact position occupied by England amongst the Powers of Europe as a Military Nation." Quite so. Well—but perhaps on second thoughts I had better get the Editor to send me to another review before I attempt to solve the problem.
[Certainly: try it.—Ed.]
OF THE MASKE-ALINE GENDER.
The great success of the Gray's Inn Maske, has raised in the mind of some of the critics the consideration whether a revival of this form of entertainment could not be established. Ever ready to assist in carrying out a valuable suggestion, Mr. Punch begs to provide a Scenario for a modern Maske:—
Scene I.—The Exterior of the Castles of Torius and Gladstonius with a view of the Palace of Westminster, seen through the gateway. Enter Sessionius, who looks about him and ponders.