2 
CORK HARBOUR. 
TuHIs station, in the middle of Cork Harbour, is often said to be unpleasant. It 
has, however, some advantages. In summer the boating, fishing and river ex- 
cursions offer much amusement. In winter the weather is usually very mild and 
healthy. To a married officer living “ashore” the daily run down the hill, the 
journey by sea, and the pull up hill to Fort Westmoreland, or occasionally Fort 
Carlisle or Camden, and the return journey later in the afternoon, added to parades 
and other work, are apt to conduce to a healthy appetite and good digestion. 
Only a few weeks ago the officer on guard at ‘“ Rocky,” in rowing with four men 
to Haulbowline to turn out the guard there, had his boat swamped in a white 
squall at 12 p.m., and just reached some rocks in time to land before the boat 
filled. 
There is a capital library in the R.A. Regimental Institution on the Island. 
“Ashore” the soldier is not without friends in Queenstown. A year ago there 
was a great appeal made by Miss Sandes for help for the Soldiers’ Institutes in 
Treland. I do not know the result as a whole, but it is plain to see that Queens- 
town has not been forgotten. The new Soldiers’ Institute, opposite the Admiralty 
pier, is a bright homelike place, the rooms for reading, games and meetings, are 
as snug and as comfortable as can be made. 
There are many wild waterfowl about the harbour, but they are difficult to get 
at, and not many are shot by our people. The Inniskillings, however, have a 
novel method of catching wild fowl, which has proved successful to the only man 
who has attempted it. ‘ Rocky” Island is known to many; on it is a large 
powder magazine, and an infantry detachment is posted there with one officer, “‘ The 
King of Rocky.” It is alonely spot inrough weather. The subaltern only holds 
his island kingdom for a short period before he is relieved; but to return to the 
wild fowl: it was a frosty night, and the lone sentry on one side of the rock 
heard the duck flighting in the deepening twilight. The sentries here always have 
their bayonets fixed. Suddenly he heard the wings flapping nearer, nearer, till a 
fine duck actually rose from the water and was just clearing the rock, when the 
sentry delivered a high point, and the fowl fell at his feet—the bayonet had broken 
its wing. 
A few evenings ago, coming from Spike by the 6.15 launch, justas we had cast 
off from the pier-head, and were leaving with tide and wind in favour, there was 
a shout and cry of “ man overboard.” A bombardier new to the place had jumped 
for the launch and had gone in; it was very cold and wet and dark. We could 
not see him and were quickly drifted away. The hands jumped into the small 
boat and rowed for where the man must be drifting. We heard his shouts but 
could see nothing. At last all was silence. We steamed back to the pier. It 
seemed an age for a man to keep afloat on such a cold night with thick boots, 
clothing and great-coat. On reaching the pier we found the boat had reached the 
man who had been kept up by his overcoat as by a balloon. He was unconscious, 
but soon came to and is all right. Had not those in the boat known the drift of 
the tide very accurately, they must have missed him in the dark. 
All here were deeply grieved to hear that Lieutenant Puxley, R.A., had died at 
sea, a day out from Bombay, on the “ Dilwara,”’ of dysentery. He was an excel- 
lent golfer, a good sportsman, a good comrade, and a great favourite here. 
MANDALAY. 
Tuis being a single battery station, regimental news is necessarily meagre, but as 
the place offers some special opportunities for sport and news seldom travels from 
