t
of the soldiers of the garrison mustered for brigade drill, the troops
marching and wheeling and countermarching to the music of the bands,
which played such inspiriting airs that even the old Captain could not
help keeping step, his trusty malacca coming down with a thump on the
springy turf, in time with the rub-a-dub-dub of the drums.

Bob had seen a regiment or two before in London, at parades in front of
the Horse Guards, or when reviewed on a small scale in Hyde Park; but,
never previously, had he witnessed so many battalions marshalled
together in all the pomp of war as now--the men formed up in double
columns of companies, with the sunlight glinting on the bayonets of
their sloped rifles and their legs looking like those of gigantic
centipedes as they stepped forward in changing ground to the left, first
the red stripe showing on one trouser-leg and then only the dark cloth
of the other.

"How funny they look!" exclaimed Bob, lost in admiration as he took note
of these little details, not a thing escaping him, the hoarse commands
of the officers, the galloping to and fro of mounted _aides-de-camp_ and
`orderlies,' the tooting bugle-calls, each in turn attracting his
attention. "All move as if they were one man!"

"Aye, they march well, my boy," replied the Captain, taking advantage of
the opportunity to point a moral lesson. "But, recollect it's all owing
to discipline and obedience to orders!"

Beyond the troops, the blue sea could be seen reflecting the hue of the
cloudless sky overhead, its surface dotted here and there with the white
sail of some yacht or other, passing between Cowes and Spithead, or
beating out into the Channel in the distance; while, in the more
immediate foreground, anchored abreast of one of the harbour forts, was
a modern ironclad man-of-war.

"What is that?" inquired Bob, pointing in the direction where the vessel
lay, looking like some marine monster asleep on the water.

"Humph! you may well ask the question," growled the Captain, jobbing his
stick down with an extra thump. "That is what they call a `ship' now-a-
days! She's an `armour-clad' of the latest type, with all the
improvements, though very different to the craft I and your Uncle Ted
were accustomed to see in the good old times when ships were ships!"

"Why, Captain Dresser," said Bob sympathetically, "she's just like the
roof of a house!"

"You're not far out, my boy. They all resemble floating barns more th