Mr. Churchill's Journey 



behind— to die in any wayside village. However, 

 Dr. Goldie was with us on this occasion, and I 

 was saved this daily labour. 



At and after dinner, jokes and merry jests, 

 interleaved with discussions on topical subjects 

 and the interesting reminiscences of our clever 

 leader, made the evening fly till bedtime came, 

 and one by one we dropped into that wholesome 

 sleep begotten by healthy exercise. 



The brazen notes of that infernal bugle would 

 wake us next morning to dress and pack up in 

 the dark, and put away a hasty breakfast by candle 

 or lantern light before starting on the day's march. 



Such was the daily round of life to which we 

 became gradually accustomed, growing fitter and 

 harder by degrees as we marched further and 

 further on our journey. 



We were all as merry as grigs and as happy as 

 the day was long, although some of us had our 

 noses pointing towards home, whilst others had 

 just reappeared from leave on a new lease of life 

 in these tropical wilds. However, in spite of 

 stories and anecdotes, I don't fancy many of the 

 latter were fired with a great longing to return to 

 the gaieties of London and the pleasures thereof. 



As some one has it : — 



Oh ! the tales that you could tell, 



Piccadilly, 

 (Fit for heaven, fit for hell) 



Piccadilly, 

 71 



