ant, walked with a terrier and carried a bag of rats by way
of provision against the dull winter evenings. Gunner Oke had strapped an
accordion on top of his knapsack. Gunner Polwarne staggered under a
barrel of marinated pilchards. Gunner Spettigew travelled light with a
pack of cards, for fortune-telling and Pope Joan. He carried a Dream-Book
and Wesley's Hymns in either hip-pocket (and very useful they both
proved). Uncle Issy had lived long enough to know that intellectual
comforts are more lasting than material ones, and cheaper, and that in the
end folks are glad enough to give material comforts in payment for them.

It was in the dusk of the December evening--the day, to be precise, was
Saturday, and the hour 5 p.m.--that our Die-hards, footsore and
dispirited, arrived in Falmouth, and tramped through the long streets to
Pendennis. The weather (providentially) was mild; but much rain had
fallen, and the roads were heavy. Uncle Issy had ridden the last ten
miles in the ambulance, and the print of a single-Glo'ster cheese adhered
thereafter to the seat of his regimentals until the day when he handed
them in and the East and West Looe Volunteer Artillery passed out of this
transitory life to endure in memory.

They found the Castle in charge of a cross-grained, superannuated sergeant
and his wife; of whom the one was partially deaf and the other totally.
Also the regulars had marched out but three days before, and the
apartments--the dormitories especially--were not in a condition to
propitiate the squeamish. Also No. 17 Company of the Royal Artillery had
included a notable proportion of absent-minded gunners who, in the words
of a latter-day bard, had left a lot of little things behind them.
Lieutenant Clogg, on being introduced to his quarters, openly and with
excuse bewailed the trouble he had taken in carrying a bag of rats many
weary miles. A second terrier would have been a wiser and less
superfluous investment. As for the commissariat, nothing had been
provided. The superannuated sergeant alleged that he had received no
orders, and added cheerlessly that the shops in Falmouth had closed an
hour ago. He wound up by saying incisively that he, for his part, had no
experience of Volunteers nor of what they expected: and (to pass over this
harrowing part of the business as lightly as may be) the Die-hards
breakfasted next morning on hastily-cooked Christmas puddings.

The garrison clock had struck ele