The men throve wonderfully. It was splendid to see them quickening their swinging steps as they came in sight of the new camping ground, marching in, every man in his ranks, to the lively sound of the band, playing ‘Patrick’s Day in the Morning.’ As each company came to its camping ground, it was halted, and piled arms by command of its captain, and then the men proceeded to pitch the tents. It was a fine sight to behold. When the bugle sounded a long, melancholy note, as if by magic a white canvas town rose up on the dusty plain. Then a sudden lull would fall on the busy scene. The men were preparing for breakfast. The camels, eased of their loads, were driven off to find their food in the neighbourhood; the patient bullocks lay by their carts, and munched chopped straw, or ruminated on the hardships of their life, while the married women of the regiment, having arrived the night before, were the only visible people, and they were occupied scolding their servants; for in India all Europeans are waited on, and the wives of privates have their cooks and their washer-men. The married soldiers’ families on a long march travelled in large bamboo cages, covered with carpeting to keep out the sun as much as possible, and these cages were put on the common country carts, drawn by bullocks. We had a long line of fifty or sixty carts of married people, and, as they started in advance at about two in the afternoon on the same day as the regiment marched in, a great hush always seemed to fall on the camp as they creaked and groaned off on their way. The fresh early morning is very exhilarating, and the days are never too hot in the cold weather. One morning was very cold, so my wife and I rode quickly on in front of the battalion. We passed the camels, which were moving steadily along on each side of the well-made Indian highway. We arrived too soon at the camping ground, and our tents were not quite ready, as the servants had not expected us so early; so we got chairs, and sat enjoying the fresh morning air. At length our camels, told off to carry the khansama’s property, arrived. On one of these ‘ships of the desert’ was fastened a hencoop containing some turkeys and fowls. My wife insisted that the poultry should be released at once, which was done, and a huge white turkey rushed madly about, and finally jumped on to my wife’s lap. She received the great bird with kindness, but in a short time exclaimed, in accents of the greatest consternation:--‘Oh, Edward, the turkey has laid an egg in my lap!’ And so it had. How we laughed! That turkey was ever after a great pet, was named Lady Alicia, and travelled with us for many a day, but at length was devoured by a jackal in the hills of Murree.