The land where the cypress and myrtle
   Are emblems of deeds that are done in its clime ;
   Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
   Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime.

But I hope the Royal Rampshire will resist
both those sentiments—they have been used,
at mess, to the love of the turtle already.
No ; the R. R. R.—the first regiment that
volunteered in England for foreign service—
will never misconduct itself.

Putting aside the hideous disasters that
necessitated that act of patriotism—forgetting
all negligences, recklessnesses, idiotcies that
have deprived us of fifty thousand disciplined
fighting men, and called forth from their
peaceful lives the labourer and the artisan,
the departure of these voluntary exiles was a
proud sight and full of pleasant promise.
They are not, indeed, bound for that vast
burial-ground before Sebastopol ; they are not
about to be dependent for their existence
upon nonchalant lords in office, all too-placid
generalissimos, devil-may-care gentlemen of
the staff, acting-deputy-assistant-commissary-
generals, red tape interest and routine ; but
they are men leaving their country two
thousand miles behind them who never
contemplated crossing the confines of their
county—men embracing the profession of
arms, who only intended to have passed six
weeks' holiday in playing at soldiers, and
giving up pursuits at least equally lucrative
and far more congenial ; mostly, too, and
with the exception of here and there an old
Peninsular or Punjaub serjeant, a regiment
of very young men (for the flower of the corps
volunteered long since from the Royal Rampshire
into the line), with syren attractions of
their sweethearts, and affectionate solicitude
of their mothers to bind them to their native
shores. With the officers—particularly in
the case of the married officers—it seems a
yet more creditable thing. Leaving country
houses in the early spring time, to be let
or unlet as it may be, and to succumb before
alien lodging-house keepers for an unknown
period ; taking ladies and little children out
of drawing-rooms and nurseries to be tossed
for five weeks in a government transport
across the Bay of Biscay and through
Gibraltar Gut.

We confess, then, to feeling grateful to
the R. R. R., and interested much in their
embarkation. Let us accompany them down
the High Street ; let us be borne up by
every description of True Briton that runs
by their side down to the dockyard gate ; for
here the mass of their fellow-countrymen is
constrained to bid them adieu,—an important,
but apocryphal, business with the
port-admiral (for it is just as well to tell a
big one while we are about it) alone ensures
us admittance through the enchanted door.
Casting a glance upon the unimaginative
rabble without—such a glance as the boy
behind the carriage throws on those toiling
after the revolving wheels ; such a glance
as a late under-secretary thought to have
cast upon his former colleagues, but for
some cry of whip behind—we proceed to
the dockyard jetty, where the transport
Obstinate lies moored. There the Royal
Rampshire stand at ease for hours until,
company by company, they are gradually
absorbed into the big ship. Each man carries
a tin mug—generally suspended from his
bayonet—a pannikin and a havresack. Without
disorder, without hurry, almost keeping
time with the beautiful march that the band
is playing, each finds his narrow sleeping
place, puts by his arms and slender baggage,
and gives his name (which is a number) to
the ship's messman.

Standing upon the poop amidst the crowd
of officers, let us survey the leave-takings
—some jovial, some pathetic—from the
Good-bye, old girl ! enhanced by a slap on
the back, to the almost inarticulate God
bless you ! In that little array of flys and
private carriages are some poor left-behind
ladies, tearful and hysterical, and a crowd
of soldiers' wives, who have no equipages,
but who are to the full as ill and sorrowfull ;
also, it must be confessed, here and
there are some young females, more in
a state of beer than anything else, and
maudlin rather than melancholy, whose partings
are not heart-rending. On board the
old transport Obstinate such brave officers'
wives who accompany the regiment sit
disconsolate on their boxes (which will not
enter their cabin doors), or on their cots
withinside, wondering whether they ever saw
so small a room, or such an apology for a
window as that dusky bull's-eye. The beds
in the Obstinate are laid athwart instead of
along, so that the ship being "a roller," the
sleepers (?) will lie head downwards with
every lurch—but they are yet in blissful
ignorance of this. Forbear, therefore, to
divulge this little circumstance to the mother
with her three fair children for whose
comfort she is providing regardless of her
own ; forbear to warn the major's valet de
chambre, who has curled hair and a scent
bottle, and thinks he shall rather enjoy the
voyage !

The crew are mustered aft to hear their
orders read ; the soldiers, with white smocks
(sea dress, worn over their regimentals), are
swarming on the forecastle ; the word is
given to cast loose—let us, at least, get out of
H.M.S. the Obstinate while there is yet time—
the steam-tug forges a-head, and drags her
slowly forward—three grand hurrahs are
given from every throat, and the band strikes
up their favourite Cheer, boys, cheer ! and
the excitement grows tremendous. Along
the loaded wharves, and past grinning
batteries, and close in-shore by the crowded
beach, the mighty ship goes on ; with her
sails set and her colours flying, she threads
that great armada in the offing—the ships
that are our title-deeds to the empire of the