Public efforts for their amusement, however, did not flag, nor were camp regulations always enforced so strictly. These facts we may gather from an entry that would have delighted the methodical Samuel Pepys. ‘After dinner drove to the Grand. Played snookers and won. Afterwards to the Biograph, to which we were invited for nothing. Rather a noise cheering for the Queen, Colonel Lumsden, &c. Marched back singing, though someone tried to stop us. The Colonel came too and bade us sing. Had supper and more songs, and three cheers for the Colonel, and to bed at two.’ These frank revelations are worth whole columns of detailed description as giving an insight into the character of the men who formed Lumsden’s Horse and their adaptability to circumstances that marked the later days of their camp life on the Maidan. The time for such festivities was drawing rapidly to a close, and none but Puritanical moralists would blame them for making the most of it after the manner of light-hearted youth. They had serious thoughts on occasion, however, and all their letters show how deeply impressed they were by one ceremony. The date of embarkation was still uncertain when on Wednesday, February 14, some two hundred officers and men under Colonel Lumsden’s command, headed by the band of the Royal Irish Rifles, marched from their camp to the Cathedral in Calcutta, where a special evening service of farewell was to be celebrated. The Viceroy and Lady Curzon, Sir John Woodburn, Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, nearly every officer of the Viceregal and District Staffs, with regimental commandants and representatives of other Presidencies, attended, and a sympathetic congregation filled every part of the building. Soldiers and civilians joined in singing the Processional hymn, ‘Onward, Christian soldiers,’ their voices mingling with an effect never to be forgotten by anybody who took part in that devotional service. The Lieutenant-Governor read the First Lesson and Colonel Lumsden the Second. The choir sang ‘Fight the good fight,’ and a deep silence fell on the congregation when Bishop Welldon began his address to the contingent that numbered in its ranks many men whose course in life had been guided by the high principles instilled by him when he was master and they schoolboys at Tonbridge and Harrow. In a clear strong voice, the ring of which they knew so well, he spoke to them and their comrades, saying: