We had only a year to remain in India before our turn for home service came round, and one day the order was received that the 88th Regiment, Connaught Rangers, was to hold itself in readiness to proceed to Kurrachee. The years we had spent in India had been passed in the north-west provinces and the Punjaub, and we all regretted that our last year of Indian service was to be in the Bombay Presidency, as it entailed the necessity of parting with our carriages, furniture, &c., before we set out on our long journey. However, we had no choice, and Indian fashion-lists were made out of all our possessions and sent to the regiment that was to succeed us at Nowshera. Carriages and horses were advertised in the papers, and it was with the barest necessaries of life, minus even our fine tents, as I had accepted a good offer for them, and had borrowed two from the commissariat for our march to Loodiana, that we rode away before the regiment to our first camping-ground at Akhara. I there received a telegram from head-quarters changing our destination from Kurrachee to Agra--a most welcome order, had it come a little sooner, as the sale of our possessions would not have taken place, and present loss and future expense would have been saved to every one of us; for carriages, horses, and furniture were all required at Agra. However, as it was, we were glad to hear we were to have another year in the north-west provinces, and in such a good quarter as Agra. In former marches, during the Mutiny time, a number of elephants were attached to our battalion, but now we only had camels. The former were very amusing to watch; their ways are so peculiar. When I went to visit them on the line of march when halted, the mahout in charge would shout out to them ‘salaam!’ and then all their trunks would go up in the air. These great animals were each fastened by a thin chain bound round the hind fetlock, and attached to a tent-peg, driven into the ground. I have been often amused to see how much they disliked flies or mosquitoes. When troubled by these tormentors, they would take up a lot of dust in their trunks, and throw it on their backs, and give a gentle little squeal, which, coming from such a huge frame, was intensely comical. I have seen a mahout fearlessly leave his baby in charge of an elephant. Sweeping a space clear within reach of the animal’s trunk, and placing the black child before him, he departed with the warning, ‘kubbardar’ (take care), which the huge creature, perfectly understanding, anxiously watched if the baby tried to crawl beyond the assigned limit, and gently swept it back with his trunk, if it did.