CHAPTER XI. 



Irish Humour. 



In the disturbed state of the country the Westmeath 

 Eifles, of which I was then Adjutant, were not called 

 out for training for two years, it not being considered 

 safe to do so. On being asked, however, whether I was 

 willing to train them when the third season came round, I 

 replied that I was quite ready, and the recruits were accord- 

 ingly called up to learn their drill some weeks before the 

 regiment came up. When I was calling the roll it happened 

 to be raining heavily, and we were consequently crowded 

 together for shelter inside a passage. A man, sheltered 

 behind others in front, suddenly spat at me, hitting me 

 on the breast, but fortunately I just then happened to 

 look up from the paper in my hand, and caught sight 

 of him in the act. Keeping him in view, I went for 

 him through the crowd, and though he tried hard to get 

 away he was caught at last, and dragged triumphantly 

 back. Having the powers of a commanding-officer for 

 the time being I at once tried him, and sentenced 

 him to " cells," and then went on with calling the 

 roll. As soon as finished I went to the orderly-room to 

 sign the committal, and found my staff looking very 

 solemn. "You'll be shot, sir," said the sergeant-major, 

 " if you send the man to cells " ; but I told him I was 

 there to keep up discipline, and I intended to do it. 



