Strengthening fare and a welcoming glance, More than rich dainties and pleasures entrance; When to droop we begin, Mine host joins in, Health to the soldier, and health to our land. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Some strange things occur during a soldier's time of service, many incidents and occurrences which are thought nothing of by the men themselves, but are nevertheless interesting to civilians. To these little incidents, such as I can remember, I shall confine my story, in the hope that the narration of them will prove more interesting to the general reader than the dry detail of a soldier's duty and his manner of performing it. A comrade of mine was on sentry in Hounslow barracks from eleven to one o'clock one dark and very wet night in the depth of winter, at a post where the orders were that _no person_ was to pass after nightfall. Willie Sherlock was his name, an Irish lad, and, if I remember right, he was from Galway. He had been at sea as a mere boy, and enlisted in our regiment when about nineteen. From his general smartness at drill and exceedingly good-tempered disposition he was a universal favourite. The post where Willie was placed on sentry commanded the approach to a path that led to some small cabins in the rear of the barracks, but out of its boundaries. These were inhabited by the "hangers-on" of the regiment (the locality is well known to those of my military readers who have ever been so unfortunate as to be stationed at Hounslow). The commanding-officer determined to put a stop to the egress and ingress of certain very fast non-commissioned officers, who, avoiding the front gate, stole out after watch-setting to these cabins for the purpose of playing cards and indulging in various other objectionable practices. We had at that time an uncommonly strict regimental sergeant-major, a regular "tickler," who would confine a man in the guard-room for a mere twist of the eye in the wrong direction when on parade. This man was one of the most frequent visitors to the "huts," and on the night Willie Sherlock was on duty he was making his way stealthily past the sentry-box, that stood between the riding-school and the end of one wing of the barracks. "Who comes there?" sang out Willie; no answer was returned. "Who comes there?" again he challenged without receiving a reply. "Who comes there?" again repeated Willie, but still he received no answer. "Be the mortial frost, I'll fire," said Willie as he rammed a ball-cartridge home into his carbine. "Who comes there? answer, or be the piper that played before Moses, I'll sind a ball into ye."