As the dépôt of the 88th were ordered to proceed from Paisley to Aberdeen, I ceased to be Governor of Dumbarton Castle. We went by train to Stirling, and began there a most enjoyable march. We were received everywhere with open arms, no troops having been along that road since the time of the Peninsular War. The men were not allowed to pay a penny at their billets, and the officers were most kindly welcomed by the hospitable families on whom they were quartered. It was amusing to hear the men giving an account of their adventures as we marched from one place to another. One day I heard two of them remarking on the fate of a sergeant who had been reduced to the ranks for drunkenness. ‘It’s sorry I am for Sergeant ---- to be broke by court-martial,’ said one. ‘Bedad,’ replied the other, ‘serve him right. He thought he could get drunk, _like an officer_!’ Aberdeen in the year 1844 was a most charming quarter. There was no railway at that period to carry people away to London, or even Edinburgh, and many of the county families came in for the balls at the Assembly Rooms, and were very kind in asking the officers of the 88th to stay in their houses in the county. One of my brother officers had a servant named Casey, who had been quartered at Corfu with the regiment, and was able to play the guitar, and sing Italian airs, the words of which could scarcely be said to belong to any particular language. There was a good theatre at Aberdeen, and Casey was asked to sing between the acts of some play that was having a run. The whole town was placarded with notices that ‘a distinguished amateur would sing the “Prayer in Norma.”’ We officers were greatly interested in this event, and all of us gave Casey different articles of dress, so that he might appear in proper form before the Aberdeen audience. The curtain drew up, and our hero came forward, and sang very well; but, alas, some one had given him whisky before going on the stage, a beverage which naturally took effect on his Irish nature, and instead of retiring gracefully after the conclusion of his song, to our intense disgust, he gave a sort of a screech, and began to dance an Irish jig with the greatest energy. The effect was wonderful, and the gods were delighted. At length the curtain fell, but the noise behind it intimated only too plainly that poor Casey was being taken off to the guard-room, where he passed the night in his borrowed plumes.