The commanding officer had simply dismounted his men, and got them into the "Cocked Hat" wood, and told them they might get their pipes out and take it easy. When at length found, an A.D.C. rode up to the colonel, and said that the general had missed the regiment, and was extremely put about in consequence, and told the commanding officer that he (the general) wished the regiment to retire behind the crest of some rising ground. It is reported that the commanding officer at that time, not being very good at handling his regiment, thought he saw his way out of the difficulty, and with great dignity said, "Young man, go back to your general, and tell him that the Greys _never_ retire." ... +Montague Johnstone.+ * * * * * _Somerset, Coleraine, Ireland, 25th November, 1906._ +My dear Williams+, We were on the Curragh ... and next us were the old Gordons. We were always pointing out to them that, for Scotchmen in the ranks, they could not hold a candle to us. One day some of them came to us, and told us they had a batch of recruits coming, real Highlanders, such as we had not, "none of 'em had seen the English," and the band and pipes had gone to Newbridge to "march 'em up." So down we all went to the outlet of the Newbridge road to see the arrival on the Curragh. Sure enough, soon we heard the pipes and saw the sporrans swinging, always a glorious sight! and on the boys came, straight from their mountains and glens. But, alas! as they passed us and came in full view of the Curragh, a young recruit in the ranks turned to his comrade and said, "Why, bust me, Billy, if this ain't Putney 'Eath without the pubs." Tableau! and triumphal march home of the old Greys. At the same period as this, one night the old Gordons poured through windows and doors into our mess and fairly wrecked us. So we joined forces and went for the 9th Lancers together in the same fashion. When all was smashed, all lights out, and everybody was leaning up against walls in torn and tattered mess uniform trying to get breath, in came a frightened mess waiter with a candle stuck in a ginger-beer bottle. This revealed a tablecloth on the floor still heaving up and down, the last struggle of a glorious fight. This was slipped away, and underneath was found the Junior Sub. of the Gordons tightly gripping the Colonel of the 9th Lancers by the throat--the chief nearly black in the face. But a more good-natured man never lived. He made it a subject of chaff, and a bond between all three regiments was thereby forged which I know will never be broken.... +J. A. Torrens.+ * * * * *