Before daybreak on Monday, January 26, 1900, bugles were sounding the reveillé for A Company, and from that moment its camp was a scene of liveliest activity. Though the men whose turn to embark might not come for a week or two longer went about their ordinary duties with assumed unconcern, they cast many wistful glances at the busy preparations of their envied comrades. Life in Calcutta had been pleasant enough to make parting ‘such sweet sorrow’ for many that they would fain have prolonged it at the last, but none gave a thought to such things in the dawn of the day so long desired. For them all, South Africa was then the goal of hope, and naturally the troops to go first were deemed most fortunate. An old campaigner might have told them of the days to come, when, in the weariness of a realisation more hollow than their dreams, they would be haunted by the music of that last waltz in Calcutta, and longing to hear once more the rustle of palm fronds under soft Indian skies, to breathe the sweet fragrance of oleanders and roses. These thoughts, however, were unspoken, and if anybody had ventured to hint at them he would have been rightly scouted as a sickly sentimentalist by Lumsden’s Horse, who were going forth to do the work of men. Yes; but somehow they were not all adamant when they heard the cheers of thousands greeting them as they marched through streets crowded with Europeans and natives. The service company, in full campaigning kit, took the lead, proudly conscious that all this was meant as an enthusiastic farewell to them and for the gallant Colonel at their head; and B Company followed, wearing simple drill order, with becoming modesty. An escort of ladies and gentlemen on horseback accompanied the marching contingent. So uncontrollable did the excitement of spectators become that they broke in upon and mingled with the ranks, a confused mass from which it was difficult for Lumsden’s Horse to disentangle themselves and pass in any semblance of military formation through the dock gates, within which they dismounted. Embarkation of their horses would in ordinary circumstances have occupied a whole day if the slow system of hoisting by slings had been adhered to. Major Taylor, however, suggested the use of zig-zag gangways, ascending by easy inclines stage above stage. To this arrangement the broad wharves of Kidderpore Docks were admirably adapted. Captain Gwynne, with a seaman’s ready appreciation of common-sense proposals, consented to this departure from former methods. The gangways were rigged accordingly, and so the horses walked quietly up the slopes to their berths on different decks instead of being slung on board in the barbarous old fashion. The whole operation thus took an hour instead of a day, and not a single horse was injured or had its temper upset. While horses were being got on board the companies drew up to await the Viceroy’s coming, where burning sunlight fell full on the