When we were leaving, these kindly-disposed fellows insisted on paying our cab hire to Paris, and we had the greatest difficulty in preventing them doing so. We were anxious to give them some return for their civility, so the lancers and myself resolved to ask them to dinner at the Rocher de Cancale. A note was therefore despatched requesting the pleasure of their company. A reply came to me from one of them, a nice young fellow called Joubert, begging us to postpone the entertainment for a week. Of course this was complied with, and when the week had elapsed we had a very jolly party. Joubert accounted for the delay which had been requested, which was owing, as he said, to the fact that we had honoured them with our presence in plain clothes, and, as they had nothing but uniform, they had to get mufti made! This was quite touching by its simple courtesy. We had a great deal of fun during our stay in Paris. On our first arrival my friends, the lancers, asked me to order dinner at the ‘Trois Frères,’ which was in existence then. I was determined to have a good dinner; but I had forgotten Parisian ways, having been absent for so long in the West Indies and America. Anyway, I ordered a portion for each person. I think we numbered eight; so there were eight soups, eight fish, eight of each entrée, &c., and the room seemed hardly large enough to contain our various _plats_. How we did laugh and enjoy ourselves! With one exception, I am now the only one left of that merry party. My leave was drawing to a close, so I left Paris, where every moment had been so occupied. I had not done much in letter-writing, and was, therefore, quite ignorant of regimental news. On arriving at Canterbury, I got a fly, and ordered the driver to take me to the barracks; but, on reaching the infantry lines, I was surprised to find all in darkness, although it was only about half-past seven in the evening. At length an 88th man came up to the carriage in which I was seated. ‘What’s become of everybody?’ I exclaimed. ‘Well, sorr, they’re all gone; a sudden order came, and they’re gone, except just a few to give over the barracks.’ ‘Gone--where to?’ I asked. After a time he replied, ‘They’re gone, sorr, to some island; but I disremember the name.’ With this very unsatisfactory information, I told cabby to drive me to the ‘Fountain Hotel,’ where I was told that the regiment had left for the Isle of Wight. Parkhurst Barracks was occupied by only one battalion, the 88th, and the four company dépôt of the Cameronians. What delightful quarters the Isle of Wight was in these days! There was no railway then in the island; a four-horse coach plied between Newport and Hyde, and the drive was most enjoyable. The pretty little villages have now become staring towns. It is difficult to find a retired nook in the noisy country now all built over.