Campwell—three miles from here; this is Drillwell;
and this is Cannontown. I have told a
person to come for you."

The three of us got out, and were met by a
little lance-corporal, who conducted us to the
barracks. On getting into the gate, a big fat
woman shouted out, " Hallo, three more
' quids!'" She alluded to our each getting one
sovereign as bounty-money, and was, perhaps,
expressing the delight she would feel at assisting
us to spend it. A lot of men, each looking
very dirty, were standing at the entrance to the
north door of the barracks with boxes in their
hands, two and two together, and they each
dropped their boxes and inspected us from head
to foot, at the same time making remarks on our
personal appearance. These men were on what
is called " coal fatigue," which I got a practical
knowledge of on the succeeding Saturday. A
little way up the passage the corporal stopped
at a door (the general orderly-room), and spoke
to a soldier-like man as to where we should be
put. We were then passed on up another pair
of stairs, and saw the colour-sergeant of our
company, who again passed us into Sergeant
Brownlow's hands, who took us into a room,
and announced, in a very high voice, as " Here's
another, Slatie;" then, turning to me, he said,
"This will be your bed." The person addressed
as " Slatie " was busy brushing some belts and
smoking at a short pipe. He appeared rather
shy, but suddenly, as if recollecting something,
said, "Oh! you'll want your belts cleaning, and
I'll do them for you—I have done a good many
recruits'."

I replied that I should be happy to give him
the job, if he wanted it

"Oh yes; it is the custom for old soldiers to
clean recruits' belts. When they come out of
stores they're very dirty."

A young man was in the room acting as
"orderly man," and he appeared very busy.
Getting up a form endways, he brushed away
and sssssh'd just like an ostler; he also managed
to keep a respectable distance from the leg of
the form exactly as an ostler would from the
hind leg of a horse. The barrack-room
contained eight beds; over the beds are innumerable
straps, belts, pouches, &c., and higher
above a shelf runs around where you can place
coats, &c.; just above the bed a knapsack is
placed with a top-coat, mess tin, and shako.
The whole place—so much leather!—looks like
a stable, although, of course, much more comfortable;
a table and four forms, scrupulously clean,
occupy the centre of the room. Sergeant
Brownlow came in after a short time and asked
me questions about the recruiting-sergeant. I
told him Shane had enlisted me.

"Ah! Shane, he's getting on well—pretty
well; but nothing like me. Why, when I was
up there during the Crimean war, I used to get
half a dozen a day."

Sergeant Brownlow had a habit of singing
after speaking, and he concluded with a grand
burst from Trovatore, " Ah che la morte" it
was. He then informed me that he had made
one of the company at the late garrison theatricals,
and commenced to give me specimens of
his elocution. I did not think them very good,
but perhaps that might be ignorance. At least
he pronounced question "questing," and other
slight mistakes of the same kind. Then, as I
was hungry and thirsty, I inquired where I
might get something to drink, and one of the
"mess" showed me the canteen, where I
indulged in a pint of beer. The canteen is kept
in order by a sergeant and a corporal of the
brigade, and has for its president a captain.
They sell beer (but no spirits), butter, pomade
(an article extensively used), and other small
things required by a soldier. Any profit arising
from this sale is divided among the whole garrison,
and thus every man may be said to get a
profit upon what he buys. The receipts are about
six hundred and fifty pounds a month. No
civilians are allowed to buy anything. The expenditure
is much less, but I forget the exact sum. A
large taproom is near, with tables and forms, and
they thus endeavour to provide against the soldier
going into the town and getting into bad company.
The canteen supplies excellent porter at threepence-
halfpenny a quart, and everything in like
reasonable proportion. It is never opened until
eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and is closed at
half-past eight in the evening. Beer and tobacco
being so very near to the soldier, is, no doubt, a
great boon, but, after thinking about it, and
having every opportunity of observing the
canteens, I think the selling of beer is an evil
rather than a favour. The soldier can perform
any work he may have to do in the daytime
without beer. The supporters would say, " But
he will go out and spend what he saves in the
evening." This is contrary to my experience,
and I well know I should myself have been a
little better if that place had been a little further
away. At every turning you will hear one saying
to the other, " Now Tom, Harry, or Dick,
what are you going 'to stand?'" If the
canteens were away, " standing" would be done
away with. The soldier receives his pay* (five-
pence a day) usually about twelve o'clock, and
he immediately spends it in a " pot o' fours"
and a pennyworth of tobacco. That sum he
would have in his pocket, and it cannot be held
that he would necessarily spend it in the evening.
Dinner came at a quarter to one o'clock,
consisting of one pint or soup, half a pound of
meat, and plenty of potatoes, boiled with the
skins on, and looking very dirty. This,
however, to me, was a sumptuous banquet, and I
enjoyed it accordingly. The next day, I may
mention, was " a bake;" that is, the same amount of
meat baked with a quantity of potatoes. It is
always a bake one day and a boil the next. I
much prefer a boil, however. They were all
recruits in the room I was put in, except " Slatie,"
who was acting corporal, and in charge. A good
deal of cutting and carving, and a proportionate
amount of swearing, accompanied the dinner, as
it always does; some cursing the cook for

* After deductions for necessaries.