en the Iron Church from which I used to _run_ backwards and forwards
not to be late for dinner every evening, with the "tin" roof that used
to shake to the "Tug of War Hymn,"--and then more dust, and (it must
be confessed) dirt and squalor, and _back views_ of ashpit and
mess-kitchens and wash-houses, and turf wall the grass won't grow on,
and rustic work always breaking up! and so on into the R.E. Lines! Mr.
F. was not quite ready for us, so we drove on a little and looked at
No. 3. N. Lines. T.'s hut is nearly buried in creepers now. An _Isle
of Man_(do you remember?) official lives there, they say; but it
looked as if only the Sleeping Beauty could. Our hut looks just the
same. Cole's greenhouse in good repair. But through all the glamour of
love one could see that there _is_ a good deal of dirt and dust, and
refuse and coal-boxes!!!

Then a bugle played!--

"The trumpet blew!"

I _think_ it was "Oh come to the Orderly Room!" _We_ went to the
Mess. The Dining-Room is much improved by a big window, high pitched,
opposite the conservatory. It is new papered, prettily, and our
pictures hang on each side of the fireplace. Mr. G. joined us and we
went into the Ante-Room. Then to the inevitable photo books, in the
window where poor old Y. used to sit in his spotless mufti. When G.
(who is not _spirituel_) said, turning over leaves for the young
ladies, "that and that are killed" I turned so sick! Mac G. and Mac
D.! Oh dear! There be many ghosts in "old familiar places." But I have
no devouter superstition than that the souls of women who die in
childbed and men who fall in battle go straight to Paradise!!!
Requiescant in Pace.

Then to tea in Mr. F.'s quarters next to the men. Then--now mark you,
how the fates managed so happy a coincidence--G. said casually, "I saw
Mrs. Jelf in the Lines just now!" I nearly jumped out of my boots, for
I did not know she had got to England. Then F. had helped to nurse
Jelf in Cyprus and was of course interested to see her, so out went G.
for Mrs. J., and anon, through the hut porch in she came--Tableau--!

Then I sent the girls with Messrs F. and G. to "go round the stables,"
and M. and _Jem_ and I remained together. Jem went to sleep (with one
eye open) under the table, and the sun shone and made the roof very
hot, and outside--"The trumpets blew!"

It was an afternoon wonderfully like a Wagner opera, thickset with
recurring _motifs_....

_Frimhurst._ June 15, 1891.