"Other relation!" exclaimed the corporal; "I've got no other relations, an' them that I have are as poor as rats. No, uncle Macgrath was the only wan wid a kind heart an' a big purse. You see, boys, he was rich-- for an Irishman. He had a grand farm, an' a beautiful bit o' bog. Och! it'll go hard wid--" "Read on, Flynn, and hold your tongue," cried one of his comrades; "p-r-aps he's left the old woman a legacy." The corporal did read on, and during the perusal of the letter the change in his visage was marvellous, exhibiting as it did an almost magical transition from profound woe, through abrupt gradations of surprise, to intense joy. "Hooray!" he shouted, leaping up and bestowing a vigorous slap on his thigh. "He's gone an' left the whole farm an' the beautiful bog to ME!" "What hae ye got there, sergeant?" asked Saunders, refolding the letter he had been quietly perusing without paying any regard to the Irishman's good news. "A parcel of booklets from the Institute," answered Hardy, turning over the leaves of one of the pamphlets. "Ain't it good of 'em?" "Right you are, Hardy! The ladies there never forget us," said Moses Pyne. "Hand 'em round, sergeant. It does a fellow's heart good to get a bit o' readin' in an out-o'-the-way place like this." "Comes like light in a dark place, don't it, comrade?" said Stevenson, the marine, who paid them a visit at that moment, bringing a letter which had been carried to the wrong quarter by mistake. It was for Miles Milton. "I know'd you expected it, an' would be awfully disappointed at finding nothing, so I brought it over at once." "_You_ come like a gleam of sunshine in a dark place. Thanks, Stevenson, many thanks," said Miles, springing up and opening the letter eagerly. The first words sent a chill to his heart, for it told of his father having been very ill, but words of comfort immediately followed--he was getting slowly but surely better, and his own letter had done the old man more good in a few days than all the doctor's physic had done in many weeks. Forgiveness was freely granted, and unalterable love breathed in every line. With a relieved and thankful heart he went on reading, when he was arrested by a sudden summons of his company to fall in. Grasping his rifle he ran out with the rest. "What is it?" he whispered to a sergeant, as he took his place in the ranks. "Osman again?" "No, he's too sly a fox to show face in the day-time. It's a steamer coming with troops aboard. We're goin' down to receive them, I believe." Soon after, the overworked garrison had the immense satisfaction and excitement of bidding welcome to reinforcements with a stirring British cheer.