The shovel is preceded by an adjective. It is the only adjective that A Company knows. (No, not that one. The second on the list!)

Mr George Ogg steps down into the breach, and sets to work. He is a small man, strongly resembling the Emperor of China in a third-rate provincial pantomime. His weapon is the spade. In civil life he would have shovelled the broken coal into a “hutch," and "hurled" it away to the shaft. That was why Private Hogg referred to him as a "drawer." In his military capacity he now removes the chalky soil from the trench with great dexterity, and builds it up into a neat parapet behind, as a precaution against the back-blast of a "Black Maria."

There are not enough picks and shovels to go round-cela va sans dire. However, Private Mucklewame and others, who

are

not of the delving persuasion, exhibit no resentment. Digging is not their department. If you hand them a pick and shovel and invite them to set to work, they lay the pick upon the ground beside the trench and proceed to shovel earth over it until they have lost it. At a later stage in this great war-game they will fight for these picks and shovels like wild beasts. Shrapnel is a sure solvent of professional etiquette.

However, to-day the pickless squad are lined up a short distance away by the relentless Captain Wagstaffe, and in

formed

"You are under fire from that wood. Dig yourselves in!" Digging oneself in is another highly unpopular fatigue. First of all you produce your portable entrenching-tool-it looks like a combination of a modern tack-hammer and a medieval back-scratcher-and fit it to its haft. Then you lie flat upon your face on the wet grass, and having scratched up some small lumps of turf, proceed to build these into a parapet. Into the hole formed by the excavation of the turf you then put your head, and in this ostrich-like posture await further instructions. Private Mucklewame is of opinion that it would be equally effective, and infinitely less fatiguing, simply to lie down prone and close the eyes.

After Captain Wagstaffe has criticised the preliminary parapets-most of them are condemned as not being bulletproof-the work is continued. It is not easy, and never comfortable, to dig lying down; but we must all learn to do it; so we proceed painfully to construct a shallow trough for our bodies and an annexe for our boots. Gradually we sink out of sight, and Captain Wagstaffe, standing fifty yards to our front, is able to assure us that he can now see nothingexcept Private Mucklewame's lower dorsal curve.

By this time the rain has returned for good, and the short winter day is drawing to a gloomy close. It is after three, and we have been working, with one brief interval, for

nearly five hours. The signal is given to take shelter. We huddle together under the leafless trees, and get wetter.

Next comes the order to unroll greatcoats. Five minutes later comes another-to fall in. Tools are counted; there is the usual maddening wait while search is made for a missing pick. But at last the final word of command rings out, and the sodden, leaden-footed procession sets out on its fourmile tramp home.

We are not in good spirits. One's frame of mind at all times depends largely upon what the immediate future has to offer; and, frankly, we have little to inspire us in that direction at present. When we joined, four long months ago, there loomed largely and splendidly before our eyes only two alternatives-victory in battle or death with honour. We might live, or we might die; but life, while it lasted, would not lack great moments. In our haste we had overlooked the long dreary waste which lay-which always lies-between dream and fulfilment. The glorious splash of patriotic fervour which launched us on our way has subsided; we have reached mid-channel; and the haven where we would be is still afar off. The brave future of which we dreamed in our dour and uncommunicative souls seems as remote as ever, and the present has settled down into a permanency.

To-day, for instance, we have tramped a certain number of miles; we have worked for a certain number of hours; and

we have got wet through for the hundredth time. We are now tramping home to a dinner which will probably not be ready, because, as yesterday, it has been cooked in the open air under weeping skies. While waiting for it, we shall clean the same old rifle. When night falls, we shall sleep uneasily upon a comfortless floor, in an atmosphere of stale food and damp humanity. In the morning we shall rise up reluctantly, and go forth, probably in heavy rain, to our labour until the evening-the same labour and the same evening. We admit that it can't be helped the officers and the authorities do their best for us under discouraging circumstances: but there it is. Out at the front, we hear, men actually get as much as three days off at a time-three days of hot baths and abundant food and dry beds. To us, in our present frame of mind, that seems worth any number of bullets and frostbites.

And-bitterest thought of all-New Year's day, with all its convivial associations, is only a few weeks away. When it comes, the folk at home will celebrate it, doubtless with many a kindly toast to the lads "oot there," and the lads "doon there." But what will that profit us? In this barbarous country we understand that they take no notice of the sacred festival at all. There will probably be a route-march, to keep us out of the publichouses.

Et patiti, et patita. Are we fed up? YES!

"C" indeed! Who are "C," to?

mander.

Battalion orders of some kind! Probably a full-dress parade, to trace a missing bayonet!

Presently he rides away; and Captain Blaikie, instead of halting and dismissing us in the street as usual, leads us down an alley into the backyard which serves as our apology for a parade-ground. We form close column of platoons, stand at ease, and wait resignedly.

Then Captain Blaikie's voice falls upon our ears.

"A Company, I have an announcement to make to you. His Majesty the King-"

So that is it. Another Royal Review! Well, it will be a break in the general monotony.

"-who has noted your hard work, good discipline, and steady progress with the keenest satisfaction and pride-" We are not utterly forgotten, then.

"-has commanded that every man in the battalion is to have seven days' full leave of absence."

"A Company's leave-our leave will begin on

the

The staccato words sink slowly in, and then thoughts come tumbling.

"Free-free on New Year's Day! Almichty! Free to gang hame! Free tae__"

Then comes an icy chill upon our hearts. How are we to get home? Scotland is hundreds of miles away. The fare, even on a "soldier's " ticket

But the Captain has not quite finished.

"Every man will receive a week's pay in advance; and his fare, home and back, will be paid by Government. That is all."

And quite enough too! We rock upon our squelching feet. But the Captain adds, without any suspicion of his paradeground manner—

"If I may say so, I think that if ever men deserved a good holiday, you do. Company, slope arms! Dismiss!"

We do not cheer: we are not built that way. But as

we stream off to our Irish stew, the dourest of us says in his heart

"God Save the King!"

AT such a time as this it is very necessary for us to have in mind a general outline of the events which have brought about the present changes in Egypt, for there can be no doubt that a great many of our actions during the last few months are open to criticism

the grounds of irregular procedure. Since, however, our moral right has been so overwhelmingly great, we must be prepared to bear any such criticism undismayed, and must be fortified against the attacks on England's honour which are certain to be made, with apparent justification, by those who can only see the very obvious technical carelessnesses of the British Government, and who choose to be blind to the equally obvious high-mindedness of British action in general. England has not been called "Perfidious Albion for nothing. As Professor Seeley once remarked, "we seem, as it were, to have conquered and peopled half the world in a fit of absence of mind;" and in Egypt our actions lately have constituted a very typical instance of this cheery obliviousness to the letter of the law which has earned for us from time to time the mistrust of other nations. When we know by a kind of healthy instinct that we are doing good, and that we have the force of moral right behind us, we are apt to prance along with small regard

for technical niceties, and hence the nations with more pharisaical tendencies find us a very rude people.

When the Turks conquered the Egyptians in 1517 it was agreed that Egypt should be governed by twenty-four native Mameluke chieftains under the supervision of a Turkish governor, that a considerable tribute should be paid annually to the Porte, and that 12,000 Egyptian troops should be supplied to the Sultan in time of war. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, Mohammed Ali, the Turkish Governor of Egypt, made war on the Turks, and would probably have dethroned the Sultan had not the Powers intervened to preserve the status quo. In 1842 England successfully urged Mohammed Ali to sign a treaty with the Porte, in which it was agreed that his descendants should hold the hereditary governorship of Egypt, that a tribute of £412,000 should be paid annually to Turkey, that the Egyptian army should have a maximum strength of 18,000 men, who should be at the disposal of the Sultan in war time, and that the Egyptians should be regarded as Ottoman subjects. In 1867 Ismail Pasha, the grandson of Mohammed Ali, made a new treaty with the Sultan, in which it was agreed that the ruler of Egypt should no longer be called simply governor, but should have the

In 1882 the Powers felt

it necessary that some steps should be taken to restore order in Egypt, as the lives of foreigners were greatly endangered by the revolution led by Arabi Pasha. There was much delay, however, in deciding on a course of action, and at last England, having unsuccessfully invited the co-operation of France and, of course, of Turkey, invaded Egypt. Our avowed object was to maintain the Khedive upon his throne, to restore order, and to establish a sound administration in this province of the Turkish Empire, thereby encouraging native and foreign commerce, and also securing the safety of the Suez Canal. We undertook to uphold the integrity of the existing Turco-Egyptian treaties, and to continue to regard Egyptians as Ottoman subjects. Ten years later, in 1892, the recently the recently deposed Khedive came to the throne, and the arrangement with the Porte was restated. In the decree dated March 27th of that year, it was laid down that Egyptian territory was a part of the Turkish Empire, and that Egyptians were subjects of the Sultan, paying annual tribute to the Porte; that the Egyptian army was at the disposal of the Sultan, and was to use the Turkish flag and the Turkish military ranks, all appointments above the rank of colonel being made by the Sultan himself and not by the

Egypt was to be issued in the Sultan's name, and taxes collected in his name; and that the Khedive was not empowered to make peace or war, nor any political treaties with foreign Powers. This decree was never revoked, and was, until the recent declaration of the Protectorate, officially acknowledged by us as the recognised basis of our position in Egypt.

The attitude of the British Government has always been, until recently, perfectly clear. Lord Cromer emphatically stated that so long as the Turco-Egyptian treaty, which it was thus our avowed object to uphold, was still in force, "there could be no such thing as an Egyptian state or an Egyptian nationality separate from Turkey." Our Army of Occupation in Egypt was maintained simply and solely to prevent any disorders which might impair the prosperity of the country and injure native or European interests. The Egyptian governmental departments remained under native Ministers, holding office by favour of the Sultan, to each of whom an English "Adviser" was assigned. British officials in Egypt were in no way connected with the British Government, but were simply private persons in the service of the Khedive. The British officers in the Egyptian army were seconded from their British regiments, and were lent to the Khedive for a certain number of years. The British interests were supervised, not by a High Commissioner or an Am