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 THE REAL SOLDIER the battle in store for us. I counted more sheep than would have fed our army for six months, but with no result. I then tried elephants, and after that camels and zebras, and finally, hoping that their odd shapes might bring me repose, I tried ant bears, but all in vain. At last, in despair, I rose from my hard couch, donned my uniform, and snatching up a cracknel, strode out of my tent.

'Murmuring "Brittle Pantechnicons" (which, by the way, was our password) to the sentry, I strolled idly down to the sea. It was a beautiful and perfectly still night, with not a ripple to disturb the surface of the sea, upon which, here and there, would glow a little shimmer of light as the phosphorescent turbot rose to its prey. In the distance, and away to the right, could be seen the camp-fires of the enemy, and the reflections in the pools left by the tide. Ever and anon sounds of merriment could be heard as the invaders, heedless of the morrow, spent the night in revelry. To the left, and further back, could be seen the tents of our forces, not a sound arising therefrom except the low monotonous breathing of the soldiers (who were so well drilled that even in their sleep they breathed in time), or maybe the "Who goes there?" of the sentry would sound in the darkness, as he mistook a moth for a spy, or the drone of the beach bee for the war-whoop of the enemy.

'At the water's edge, dark against the starry sky, I found a solitary bathing-machine, beneath which 158