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After breakfast we massage ourselves internally and open up our chests with an hour's exercise, much as ashore; but we must drill in small sections, for want of space. Most parades, apart from this last, which is universal, are for lectures; in which the officers endeavour to put the theoretical side—appropriately enough, for the practice must precede the theory in any matter whatsoever, but especially in the game of war. We were men before we became philosophers; we digested our food before we thought of physiological research; and we can put a bullet through a vulnerable part before we know much about the chemical combustion preceding the discharge. Lectures are, naturally, more or less directly on the topic of mechanical-transport, in some aspect of it, but some are on topics of generally military importance.

Curious is the variety in the method of receiving lecture; the rank and file do not readily adjust themselves to the academic outlook. "Another b——y lecture, Bill!" "That's all right; 'e'll take a tumble——" (The Censor did not pass the rest of this conversation.) But these are extreme comments, and rather a form of playfulness than serious utterances. Of the rest, some sit it through in a bovine complacency, some take the risks of dozing, some crack furtive jokes; most listen attentively enough. There are many intelligent, well-trained men who prick up their ears here and there and carry on a muffled discussion, in a sort of unauthorised semina. There is, on an average, one hour's lecture in the day.