"Gentlemen, welcome to Gallipoli!" said the staff officer, as he clattered into the cabin, with his steel scabbard and spurs, and proceeded forthwith to regale himself with a long glass of Seltzer, dashed with brandy, for the morning breeze was chilly as it swept across the Hellespont. "It’s a queer-looking place, this Gallipoli," said Beverley. "And a queer-looking place you’ll find it, colonel," added the aide-de-camp, as we gathered round him. "You will be more given to airing your clothes than your classics, and won’t be much enchanted with your quarters in Roumania. In lack of space and cleanliness, and in the liberal allowance of gnats and fleas, they are all up to Turkish regulation." "Any society here?" asked Jocelyn, with his little affected lisp, as he caressed his incipient moustache. The aide burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and then replied— "Plenty, and of the most varied and original character." "And how about the ladies?" "Is it true that the Turks still regulate their establishments of womenkind according to the Koran?" asked the paymaster, with a grin on his long, thin Scotch face. "Upon the system of the 4th Veteran Battalion rather," replied the aide-de-camp. "Ah, and that——" "Gave a wife to every private, and three to the adjutant." "Good Lord deliver us!" exclaimed Studhome, as he doubled his dose of cognac and Seltzer. "Is it a good country for hunting hereabouts?" asked Sir Harry Scarlett. "Can’t say much for that," replied our visitor, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, the Earl of Lucan will probably cut out other work for you than riding across country; but for sportsmen there are plenty of hares, partridges, and wild duck to keep one’s hand in till we see the Russians, which I hope will not be long, for we are already all bored and sick to death of Gallipoli." "How long have you been here?" asked Beverley. "A month, colonel. Another troop has just been signalled off the mouth of the Dardanelles." "The _Ganges_, with more of ours, perhaps. "Likely enough; but they come in here every hour." "Any word yet of moving to the front—of taking the field?" asked Beverley. "No, nothing seems decided on yet. There are a thousand idle rumours; but we are all in the dark as to the future—French and British alike." "A deuced bore!" exclaimed two or three together. "Ah, you’ll find it when you have been a month or so under canvas at Gallipoli. And now, Colonel Beverley, I need not suggest to so experienced a cavalry officer how the horses are to be got on shore, but for the time shall take my leave. Some of the cavalry divisional staff have established a kind of clubhouse in a deserted khan, opposite the old palace of the Bashaw, or Capudan Pacha, where we shall be glad to see you, till we can make other arrangements; and so adieu. Should you look us up, ask for Captain Bolton, of the 1st Dragoon Guards."