himself and to those around him.

If a round of ball cartridge has been wasted by a suicide, or a pair
of ammunition boots carried off by a deserter, the Commander-in-Chief
sometimes visits a great cantonment under a salute of seventeen guns.
The military then express their joy in their peculiar fashion,
according to their station in life. The cavalry soldier takes out his
charger and gallops heedlessly up and down all the roads in the
station. The sergeants of all arms fume about as if transacting some
important business between the barracks and their officers' quarters.
Subalterns hang about the Mess, whacking their legs with small pieces
of cane and drinking pegs with mournful indifference. The Colonel
sends for everyone who has not the privilege of sending for him,
and says nothing to each one, sternly and decisively. The Majors
and the officers doing general duty go to the Club and swear before
the civilians that they are worked off their legs, complaining
fiercely to themselves that the Service is going, &c. &c. The
Deputy-Assistant-Quartermaster-General puts on all the gold lace he is
allowed to wear, and gallops to the Assistant-Adjutant-General--where
he has tiffin. The Major-General-Commanding writes notes to all his
friends, and keeps orderlies flying at random in every direction.

The Commander-in-Chief--who had a disturbed night in the train--sleeps
peacefully throughout the day, and leaves under another salute in the
afternoon. He shakes hands with everyone he can see at the station,
and jumps into a long saloon carriage, followed by his staff.

"A deuced active old fellow!" everyone says; and they go home and dine
solemnly with one another under circumstances of extraordinary
importance.