CELEBRATING THE JUBILEE THE air, BAILIE, has been fu’ o’ "jubilee" this wheen months back. In fac’ it’s got perfectly ootrageous a'thegither. Everything’s jubilee enoo, jubilee sweeties, jubilee black lead, jubilee red herring, an’ jubilee rat traps. These are silly and harmless. Hooever, o’ a’ the stupid things connected with this jubilee, the maist stupid, as it seems tae me, is that woefu’ ane o’ gathering money tae sen’ tae London for the buildin’ o’ some Imperial Institute or anither. An' why London, may I ask? Why no Edinburgh? Surely the English are rich enough tae build a place for themselves. My certy, they wid gie precious little tae help us tae build onythiug in Edinburgh. If refused tae subscribe one penny, an I’m happy tae say Stra’bungo, tae a man, did as I, their Provost, did. Ye didna see that Stra’bungo had sent up to London £4 16s. 5¾d., collected by the ladies frae 927 families. No, sir; nothing of the kind. Still, while we refused tae enrich London, we were loyal enough tae tak’ a holiday. After great cogitation, an’ having heard that Glasgow was going tae hae a review o’ the troops, we thocht we wid tak’ the wind oot o’ their sails an’ hae a review o’ oor ain. Last Thursday was the day set aside for the ploy, an’ on that day we held the review, an’ it was a splendid affair, I can tell you. The 1st Royal Stra’bungo Fusiliers were in full force. As the Cornel (ye ken I’m Cornel as wool as Provost), I wis a prood, prood man tae see hoo even the youngest recruits had started new clay pipes for the occasion. It’s in wee things like this that the true sodger is seen. Efter they had a’ assembled an’ the bugler had gied them a bit tune, I, wha had been smoking a ceegaur in the coal ree, while lookin’ ower the plan o’ the grun so as to see what oor movements for the day were tae be, sent my aid-de-colong for my horse. It’s no often I go on a horse. The adjutant, hooever, declared that, according to the new rules o’ the service, a cornel must be mounted, an’ the man that does my cartin’ said that he could recommend ane o’ his, a rale quiet, peaceable beast, so I agreed tae hire’t for the day. I tell’t the carter tae be sure an’ no gie’t ower much corn the nicht before, bit as I didna want tae wrang the puir beast, I said that I wid pay for a dooble feed the nicht efter. In a wee the aid-de-colong comes hack leading the horse. Man, BAILIE, the mair I looked at that beast the mair I liked it. As a Cornel’s horse it wis nane o’ your common broon anes—it iris a’ spotted red and white, jist like strawberries an' cream. It had a ringle e’e, an’ its tail was a weak point. In fac’ it had nae tail tae speak o’ at a’. There wis jist a few hairs up at the tap, an’ the rest o’t wis as bald as my heid. Then its fore legs were bent oot like twa girs, although I’m led tae understan’ that that’s a guid quality for it gi’es the animal great purchase when pullin’ a load up a hill. A’thegither it wis a horse that ye widna’ see the like o’ in a day’s journey. The officer brocht it tae the gate, an’ twa sergeants carried ower the steps, an’ I got on them, smokin’ awa’ at my ceegaur as leisurely an’ as carelessly as if I had been accustomed tae’t a’ my life. One o’ the sergeants then cam’ up the steps an’ gied me a bit lift, an’ there I wis, only I had put the wrang leg up, an’ found mysel’ lookin’ backward. Hooever, that wis easy put richt. One sergeant on each side steadied me a wee, an’ I warsled roon, an’, gatherin’ up the reins in the one haun, I drew my sword an’ held it in the ither, an’ in a wee I an’ the adjutant were at oor posts at the heid o’ the regiment. Then the air became hushed wi’ expectancy, an’ the assembled thoosan’s looked on in admiration. "Adjutant," says I. "Your lordship," says he. "Is the roll called?" says I. "It is, my lord," says he. "Hoo mony?" says I. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine men all told," says he. "Man, could ye no get haud o’ anither ane," says I, "an’ mak’ it the even number?" "Sergeant M’Phun had to go away to a funeral, or we would have had a thousand." "Weel," says I, "tell Sergeant M’Phun frae me that he is degraded tae the rank o’ private for this. What business has he tae be bothering wi' funerals when his country calls for his services? "I’ll attend tae that, your lordship," says the adjutant. "Weel, see ye dae," says I. "Are ye a’ ready? Nae speakin’ in the ranks. Bugler, gie a bit note on twa jist tae wauken them up, an’ tell the pipers tae get ready tae play. Now, comrades in arms, left foot foremost—m-a-r-c-h." An’ I stood up in my stirrups an’ waved my sword, an’ aff we gaed amid the cheers o’ the hale population. The last kent face that I saw in my excitement was my dear auld freen Mr Pinkerton, wha ran forrit, an’ grasping me by the leg said, wi’ tears in his eyes, "Ah, Cornel, I wish I could be wi’ ye. I hiv the heart tae serve my country, but this confoonded wudden leg "— An’ here the honest man broke doon. "Halt," cries I. So we a’ halted. "Mr Pinkerton," says I, lood enough for the hale army tae hear me, "ye are a noble fellow, yer heart’s in the richt place. It has pleased Providence tae gie ye a wudden leg, but we must a be content wi’ oor lot in life. If ye canna be a warrior like me, ye can dae something. Let me see; ye can provide sandwiches for the officers when they come hame the nicht, an’ that wid be servin’ your country in an indirect way." "Cornel, it’ll be done," says he, "I’ll cut up a hale biled ham for ye." "Mr Pinkerton," says I, "I wid be prood tae hae ye in my regiment. If ye think ye wid like it yoursel’, say the word, an’ I’ll mak’ ye a major on the spot. I don’t know but it wid add éclat tae us. Wi’ a Sir for a cornel, an’ a major wi’ a wudden leg, I question if there’s a single regiment in Scotland could look at us. Think ower’t, Mr Pinkerton. An’, noo, men, step forrit again": an’ awa we gaed. The hale route wis lined wi’ spectators. Blankets and hearthrugs were hanging ower every window, giein’ the toon. quite a holiday look. Across the entrance tae the Moss Road wis a triumphal arch on which wis inscribed, ‘Go where glory waits thee." The sicht o’ this made a’ oor hearts throb, an’ when at Shawlands we cam’ tae anither arch, on which was "See the conquering heroes come," the ardour o’ the men could be restrained nae langer, an’ they broke oot intae one vast cheer that rent the air nearly as faur as the Shaws. I should hae mentioned that the owner o’ my horse tell’t me that he had been in his palmy days in a circus. So when he heard the cheers, an’ saw the triumphal arch an’ the blankets, I suppose recollections o’ the auld days cam back tae his memory, for he began tae gang sideways, an’ tried tae rin noon the adjutant, wha wis on his usual charger. that, ye maybe hae min’, is blin’ o’ an e’e. "Wo-ho, my man," says I, as I swee-ed back an’ forrit. Indeed I wis near sliding aff, but a sergeant cam’ rinnin ower an’ grippit him by the heid, an’ walked beside him till hie calmed doon. "Your name, Sergeant?" says I. "M'Fadyen," says he. Sergeant M’Fadyen, you are now a Lootenant, for meritorious services rendered when on duty." Ye see in my regiment I’ve nae humbugs o’ court-martials an things. I’m autocrat mysel’. I’m like the centurion, I say tae this man go, and he goeth, an’ tae the ither, come, an' he cometh. I jist pay them aff or promote them or degrade them as I see proper. It’s the beet plan; it saves bother. Besides, why hae a commander if ye hivna confidence in him? The sham fecht that followed wis gran’. Time folk oot yonder at the Haggs said they never had seen the like o’t before. I wis in one park wi' seeven hunner men, an’ the adjutant wis in anither park wi’ three hunner. There wis a bit o’ a hill an’ a hedge between us, an’ we were the attacking force. A’ being ready we speeled up the hill, an’ when we got tae the hedge, I keeked ower an’ I says—. " Is there onybody there ? There wis nae answer. Of course I saw them a’ quite weel, an’ they saw me, but we had tae let on that we didna see each ither. "Sentry ahoy!" I cries out again. Nae answer. "Bring up the guns," I then roared oot, an’ three o’ my men cam’ rinnin’ wi’ three wheelbarrows tae represent the guns, so I assigned them the position they were tae occupy, an' I then, staunin’ up in my stirrups, cried cot lood, "I ask ye, for the third amid last time, is there onybodv there?" Nae answer. "Then your bluid be on your ain heid. Fire!" I cries oot. The three gunners gied the wheelbarrows a fling frae them, and the rest o’ the men fired a volley so as to mak' a noise. Jist as the fixing died awe’ my charger dropt doon as if he had been shot, an’ I got a nasty shake. I wis extricated, hooever, an’ as I stood wiping the mud aff my uniform, I heard the beast groanin’ as if he wis in great pain. At this I cried tae the sergeant, "Gross carelessness! There’s some a the men bee shot my charger. Inquire into this at once, an’ bring the guilty person before me till I mak’ an example o’ him." Hooever, we got the beast up again, an’ I mounted, an’ ordered anither volley tae be fired on the enemy. When the firin’ took place doon goes my horse for the second time. "Michty me," I cries, "wha’s deliberately trying tae shoot a puir harmless beast?" The groans o’t this time were fearful. My heart wis sair for’t. It lay as if it were deid. Hooever, we could see nae marks o’ a bullet. But when me got it up if ye had seen hoo it limped. In fac, I couldna think tae mount it again. One a’ my men noo comes forrit an’ whispers, "A word, Cornel." "Weel?" says I. "Excuse me," says he, "but I think your horse has been in a circus, and acting in the ‘Battle o’ the Alma,’ for I saw’t acted no lang since, en’ the horses a’ lay doon an’ groaned like that." "The vera thing," says I. "Weel, weel, whet sagacity. What a noble animal the horse is, an’ yet thoosans o’ them are treated every day in the streets of Glasgow, an’ ither big toons, in a may that should mak’ us blush for oor humanity. I’ll mount him again, but we’ll hae nae mair firin’." Jist at this the adjutant looks ower the hedge an’ cries oot— "Who goes there?" "It’s me," says I. "Advance en’ give the countersign." So I began tae advance till he cried cot, "Halt, or you are a dead man," 'n he looked so ferocious that I thocht maybe he forgot it wis a’ in fun. Sae I draws my horse tae the side, an’ I cries tae my men, "There’s the foe, you know your duty. Fire awa’ till your pooder’s dune, an’ then turn an' rin. As I’m no a vera guid rider I’ll start noo. Advance! Charge!" The last word sounded as if it had been cried through a speaking trumpet, an’ my men responded nobly. Up they ran, in through the holes in the hedge, an’ bang at the enemy on his am grun. The fecht was short but decisive. Time enemy turned and ran down the hill, wi’ my men after them, chasin’ them oot intae the road an’ doon maist as far as the Canal Railway. Seein’ that they were awa’ I cam aff, an’ lichtit a ceegaur an’ handed my horse tae a wee laddie tae walk up an’ doon. Hoo prood that laddie wis tae get walking the heid officer’s horse! The tippence I gied him was a mere naething tae the honour o’ the thing. By and by my men cam’ back by two’s and three’s bringing their prisoners wi’ them; an’ then the adjutant cam’ ower an’ gracefully delivered up his sword tae me in token o’ defeat. I took it, but at once handed it back tae him, saying, "Beaten but not disgraced. You are a brave man; you only gave in to superior numbers." And so, BAILEE, ended oor Jubilee sham fecht. We marched back, an’ Mr Pinkerton was as guid as his word; he had plenty o’ sandwiches ready for us. At nicht we held a reception; we had caunels in the windows, an’ a bonfire in the Park. BAILIE, the Jubilee will lang be remembered in Stra’bungo.