ALDERSHOT


A raw, cold morning in the late autumn! A weird-looking train, slowly
drawing into the station out of the mist, with carriages altogether
different in appearance from those we were accustomed to see! A
battalion of brawny Scotchmen, travel-stained and sleepy. And then a
somewhat lazy descent to the platform.

'Twenty-four hours in this train, sir, and never a bite or a sup. What
do you think of that?'

But as the speaker could not quite keep the perpendicular, and found it
absolutely impossible to stand to attention, it was evident that he had
had more than one 'sup,' whether he had had a 'bite' or not. All along
the line, sad to say, 'treating' had been plentiful, and this was the
result.


=Mobilising at Aldershot.=

Multiply this scene a hundred times. Imagine the apparent confusion on
every hand. Listen to the tramp, tramp of the men as they march from
station to camp and from camp to station, and you will have some idea of
the hurry and bustle in this camp on veldt during the period when the
word 'mobilisation' was on everybody's lips.

Barrack rooms everywhere overcrowded, men sleeping by the side of the
bed-cots as well as upon them; every available space utilised; even the