forty years later, in 1879. Quarters of a not very luxurious description are provided for the officers, that is to say, they are given a room without doors or windows, and with a mud floor, and any improvements they wish to make they are required to do themselves. There is, of course, no furniture, and any luxuries one wants in that way we have to get for ourselves. The room I have got is at one end of a long low line of mud huts, the whole of which, except the 4 rooms at one end, which are allotted to me and my staff, and the four rooms at the other end which will be given to General Burrows and his staff, are occupied by artillery officers. My set of quarters are in this shape,
so I have one room to sleep, sit, and write in, and a room where we dine and breakfast, and which is, of course, public property. I have, as a special indulgence, a bath-room all to myself, but no one else has one. The room when I came into it was horrid; the floor was six inches deep in dust; there were no doors or windows, and altogether it was most unpromising. I have, however, had a floor made for it, the passage and dining-room, of a wonderful kind of stuff like Plaster of Paris which abounds here, and which hardens in the most wonderful way. I have had windows put in, and hope to have a door soon; and having bought a few pieces of a rough native carpeting in the city, and a couple of tables and chairs, my room begins to look very fair indeed. The mud walls are appropriately covered with yards of maps, which look very business-like, and in the small recesses I have had a few wooden shelves put up which quite do to hold my very scanty wardrobe. I find my room very hot and close at night, so I have pitched my little tent outside my door and sleep in it, watched over by a sentry whose sole duty is to guard his sleeping General, who can, therefore, slumber in the most perfect security. It would be rather monotonous to live with my Brigade Major and orderly officer only, as I am afraid we should get very tired of each other during the hot weather, so I am trying to get up a sort of mess between General Burrows and me, taking in our staff, and a couple of outsiders who have no special place to go to--viz., our Chaplain, Mr. Cane, and the Judge Advocate, Colonel Beville. The latter has agreed to manage the affair, so I have nothing to do with housekeeping, which is a blessing, and as Colonel Beville quite understands management and likes good things, I hope the affair will be a success, and that General Burrows will agree to join. The parson begged me to take him in, and I did not like to refuse, though I cannot say I care much about him (though perhaps he will improve on acquaintance), as he has the reputation of being rather inclined to quarrel and be difficult to manage. We will hope he is maligned and will prove not to have so unclerical a failing. A mess on service is a very rough affair, as we have no plate, crockery or linen, and live what is called camp fashion, that is, all the mess provides is tables and food, and each person's servant brings his plates, knives, forks, and spoons, and chairs, and when dinner or breakfast is over removes them. We shall, I daresay, in time get a few luxuries such as chairs, dishes, and perhaps a few table-cloths (I have 2 of my own for great occasions), and we have already made our dining-room look fairly comfortable (I am writing on 4th May), by putting down some carpets, and I have no doubt between Colonel Beville and me that we will get rid of as much unnecessary