drawn from facts, and the gruesome details as to who ate who in the
Glass Pond were equally well founded!

This (1876) volume of the Magazine is rich in contributions from
Julie, the reason being that she was stronger in health whilst she
lived at Aldershot than during any other period of her life. The sweet
dry air of the "Highwayman's Heath"--bared though it was of
heather!--suited her so well, she could sleep with her hut windows
open, and go out into her garden at any hour of the evening without
fear of harm. She liked to stroll out and listen to "Retreat" being
sounded at sundown, especially when it was the turn of some regiment
with pipes to perform the duty; they sounded so shrill and weird,
coming from the distant hill through the growing darkness.

[Illustration: OUR LATEST PET--A REFUGEE PUP, WHOM WE HAVE SAVED FROM
THE COMMON HANGMAN.]

We held a curious function one hot July evening during Retreat, when,
the Fates being propitious, it was the turn of the 42nd Highlanders to
play. My sister had taken compassion on a stray collie puppy a few
weeks before, and adopted him; he was very soft-coated and fascinating
in his ways, despite his gawky legs, and promised to grow into a
credit to his race. But it seemed he was too finely bred to survive
the ravages of distemper, for, though he was tenderly nursed, he died.
A wreath of flowers was hung round his neck, and, as he lay on his
bier, Julie made a sketch of him, with the inscription, "The Little
Colley, Eheu! Taken in, June 14. In spite of care, died July 1.
_Speravimus meliora_." Major Ewing, wearing a broad Scotch bonnet,
dug a grave in the garden, and as we had no "dinner-bell" to muffle,
we waited till the pipers broke forth at sundown with an appropriate