officers of the Native Infantry and some of the musicians belonging to the band, who were Eurasians, attended the church. The gun that had been fired daily for more than a century was silent; and the bugles, that had sounded the reveille in the morning and the last post at night, were heard no more in the European barracks.
The infantry went to Burma and the battery was sent north, where trouble was brewing (1879). There were many regrets at the departure of the British soldiers; but none on their part. They were full of excitement over the move, anticipating active service before long. It is strange to note the eagerness with which the soldier looks forward to the real business of his life. Too often it means death; yet no man ever thinks that he will be the one to fall. It may be his comrade, but it will not be he.
As soon as an unexpected order to march is received a wave of excitement throbs through the cantonment. It is felt by all military men alike, from the commanding officer down to the smallest drummer-boy. There is an unusual briskness in the execution of duty. Social engagements are set aside, and all is orderly bustle. As the grey light of morning breaks, the loaded carts move away under the charge of their escort. The regiment, wearing trim workmanlike kharki, assembles in the barrack square. The word is given, the band strikes up a lively strain, and it marches out for the last time. An odd silence falls upon the deserted buildings. A few sweepers with brooms move through the empty rooms in leisurely fashion. The crows, grown suddenly bold, forage and explore where they have never dared to venture before ; and the sparrows chirp and squabble on the parade-ground undisturbed by the tread of man or the blast from a bugle.
In addition to the officers belonging to the Native
