The genial countenance of the manager beamed with satisfaction. It was evident that "what he had got" did not at all discompose him, as he hurried away to look after his flock, while the originator--the heart and soul of all this--although confined to her room at that time with spine complaint, and unable to take part in the active work, as she had been wont to do in years gone by, heard in her chamber the softened sound of the human storm, and was able to thank God that her Soldiers' Institute was fulfilling its destiny. "Hallo! Miles!" exclaimed Armstrong, over the heads of the crowd; "I've been looking for you everywhere. D'you know we run a chance of being late? Come along, quick!" Our hero, who, in his interest in the scene, had forgotten the flight of time, hurried out after his comrade as the band struck up "Home, sweet Home," and returned to barracks, utterly oblivious of the fact that he had left the unfinished letter to his mother on the table in the reading-room. CHAPTER SIX. THE UNFINISHED LETTER--TOO LATE! Next morning young Milton--or, as he was called by his comrades, John Miles--rose with the depressing thought that it was to be his last day in England. As he was dressing, it flashed across him that he had left his unfinished letter on the reading-room table, and, concluding that it would be swept away in the rush of people there--at all events that, not having been folded or addressed, it could not be posted--his depression was deepened. The first thing that roused him to a better frame of mind was the smell of tea! Most people are more or less familiar with teapots; with the few teaspoonfuls of the precious leaf which thrifty housekeepers put into these pots, and the fragrant liquid that results. But who among civilians, (save the informed), can imagine a barrack-room teapot? Open your ears, O ye thrifty ones! while we state a few facts, and there will be no need to tell you to open your eyes. Into the teapot which supplied Miles with his morning cup there was put, for _one_ making, eight pounds of tea!--not ounces, observe, but pounds,--twenty-nine pounds of sugar, and six gallons--an absolute cowful--of milk! The pot itself consisted of eight enormous coppers, which were filled with boiling water to the brim. "Yes, sir," remarked the military cook, who concocted the beverage, to a speechless visitor one day; "it _is_ a pretty extensive brew; but then, you see, we have a large family!" A considerable portion of this large family was soon actively engaged in preparation for immediate embarkation for Egypt. Then the General made the men a farewell speech. It was a peculiar speech--not altogether suited to cheer timid hearts, had any such been there, but admirably adapted to British soldiers.