A HOME OF TOMMY ATKINS. 69 



supposed to be the result of a good dinner and an easy con- 

 science. Those officers who may still have duties to attend 

 to take their departure, while the others sit down to a quiet 

 game of whist or repair to the billiard -room. Thus quietly 

 passes the evening, and Aldershot goes to rest, the only sound 

 being the occasional " Who comes here .^" of the sentries, as 

 some belated officer, who has sat longer than usual over his 

 game of cards or the pages of the latest novel, passes across 

 the paved courts towards his quarters. 



And now the quiet of the summer season, with its round 

 of drills, parades, inspections, and all the daily recurring episodes 

 of the life of the camp, is broken by darkening thunder- clouds 

 of war, sweeping up in gloomy, threatening masses, and flashes 

 of lurid lightning from the eastward of the political horizon. 

 Some one with careless and bloody hand has roused the British 

 lion from his peaceful slumber; some of his dear children, far 

 away across the waters, have been driven forth in the light 

 of their burning homes, or have fallen under the pitiless daggers 

 of religious fanaticism, and he is rising in his might, showing 

 his teeth, and ready to use them too, in vengeance on the 

 disturbers of his peace. 



Marching orders from the Horse Guards have arrived. 

 Aldershot is in a state of excitement and bustle, preparing and 

 mustering the forces for departure for the seat of war, and 

 Tommy, ever ready for a fight, or a change in the monotony 

 of his daily existence, is filled with enthusiasm and eager for 

 the fray. 



It is between three and four o'clock in the morning, and 

 the gray light is just stealing through the mist of the gently 

 falling rain, as I stand in the Framborough station listening 

 to the distant cheering and the plaintive strains of " Auld Lang 

 Syne," which betoken the approach of some departing regiment. 

 5* 



