He had a very uneventful time while the regiment was at Newbridge, but while at Hounslow he was a good deal in Town, where his clubs saw him fairly often. At Pratt’s one night he was talking to some friends about a pet badger he had that could hold its own against any dog. Someone, I think it was Captain “Chicken” Hartopp of the 10th Hussars, said they would like to see the animal, to which the owner replied, “So you shall. What do you bet I will not walk down to Hounslow and bring it back here by ----?” naming some incredibly short time in which to accomplish the mission. Considering it almost out of the question that this could be done in the time, a very respectable sum was bet, and off started the badger owner to fetch him, the bargain being that he must walk both ways. It was therefore necessary to do some smart heel and toe work, which he carried out faithfully, keeping a watch on the time as he went along. The badger, as far as history relates, does not seem to have shown the least surprise at his master turning up in the middle of the night in once immaculate, but now very dusty, evening dress, and hurrying off with him in his arms through the lamp-lit West End, to the amazement of policemen and a few belated wayfarers. They both arrived within the stated time, the bet being won, though the badger lost a beauty sleep. The old Raleigh Club was a great institution in those days, much frequented by the frisky men of the time, and all young officers quartered within possible reach. It was quite _the_ thing in night clubs. Its doors opened at dusk; when they closed, I do not know, probably shortly before business people in the suburbs were eating their early breakfasts. At any rate, nobody was anybody, who did not belong to this club, which was approached by a tunnel, adding mystery and charm. Within these portals huge sums of money changed hands, highly flavoured stories circulated, and cards figured largely; so did swearing, if I may believe what I am told. In fact it was considered a sign of military efficiency. One of the great surprises of my life was finding out, after I married, that some of the most sedate-looking and highly proper people I had been brought up amongst, who looked as if they would faint if anyone said “Damn!” in their presence, were, in reality, constant visitors at this club, and other popular rendezvous of fame at that time, while their wives imagined they were seeing the boys off to school, or some other highly domestic duty. As it was put to me, some of these elderly friends of my early youth were among those who “kicked up the most row.” There was that great fine Irishman, the late Colonel King-Harman, most majestic of men and model parent, who came to children’s parties and danced with poor awestricken me, my feet seldom touching the ground, but my heart full of admiration for so king-like a being. The Raleigh knew him as one of the merriest, always ready for a rag.