rvice under the new Act,
namely, three years, would be entered in his existing attestation papers
by the respective commanding officers. If I remember rightly, not one and
a half per cent. withdrew.

The eventful day arrived on which every member of the force ceased to be
a soldier. The next day all willing to do so would be soldiers again.
That night we were dining at Government House. After dinner it happened
to strike the Governor that there were no soldiers in South Australia
that evening with the exception of myself. So lifting up his glass he
said, "Behold our army! Every soldier except one has been disbanded
to-day. He is our army. Good luck to him." And "The Army" I became to all
my friends in Adelaide, and, later on, right throughout Australia.

Jubilee Year, 1897, was now close at hand. I had been steadily at work
since my trip home in 1889, and was now finishing my fifth year as
Commandant. Everything was working smoothly, and I was asked by Kingston
if I would like to take a trip home and attend officially the Jubilee
celebrations in London. I talked it over with my wife. Our two children
were then just four and three years old. My wife thought that it would be
more enjoyable for her and for the children if we let alone the Jubilee
festivities and got six months' leave, reaching London later on in the
early summer, so that we could enjoy the autumn in Scotland and return to
Australia at the end of the year. Kingston fell in with this suggestion,
and I was granted six months' leave of absence and reappointed Commandant
for a further period of five years.

We sailed in the _Damascus_, myself and wife, little Eileen and Carlos,
my youngest sister-in-law, Geraldine, and my wife's companion, Miss Ryan,
who was specially in charge of the children. The _Damascus_, an Aberdeen
liner, was a comfortable boat; she had been a short time before fitted up
to take Sir Henry Loch to South Africa. We had chosen the Cape route to
avoid the Red Sea in the very hot weather. We spent a couple of days at
Durban and another two at Capetown, and reached London about the middle
of September. My mother and father had both passed away, and the family
properties had gone to my nephew, Rafael, who was living in Spain.
Wardhouse and Kildrummy Castle were let. My sister, Magda, Mrs. Lumsden
of Clova, which marches with Kildrummy, had asked us to stay with her.
Our plans were to go to Clova on our arrival in London, put in a couple
of mo