Well, well, why should I trouble you with these things? I could wear
out a good quill-pen just writing about what we did, Jim and I, at the
depot in Glasgow; and how we came to know our officers and our comrades,
and how they came to know us. Soon came the news that the folk of
Vienna, who had been cutting up Europe as if it had been a jigget of
mutton, had flown back, each to his own country, and that every man and
horse in their armies had their faces towards France. We heard of great
reviews and musterings in Paris too, and then that Wellington was in the
Low Countries, and that on us and on the Prussians would fall the first
blow. The Government was shipping men over to him as fast as they
could, and every port along the east coast was choked with guns and
horses and stores. On the third of June we had our marching orders
also, and on the same night we took ship from Leith, reaching Ostend the
night after. It was my first sight of a foreign land, and indeed most
of my comrades were the same, for we were very young in the ranks. I
can see the blue waters now, and the curling surf line, and the long
yellow beach, and queer windmills twisting and turning--a thing that a
man would not see from one end of Scotland to the other. It was a
clean, well-kept town, but the folk were undersized, and there was
neither ale nor oatmeal cakes to be bought amongst them.

From there we went on to a place called Bruges; and from there to Ghent,
where we picked up with the 52nd and the 95th, which were the two
regiments that we were brigaded with. It's a wonderful place for
churches and stonework is Ghent, and indeed of all the towns we were in
there was scarce one but had a finer kirk than any in Glasgow.
From there we pushed on to Ath, which is a little village on a river, or
a burn rather, called the Dender. There we were quartered--in tents
mostly, for it was fine sunny weather--and the whole brigade set to work