us fact that he
was actually off to the wars!

The accommodation for passengers in that train was not good. Distinctly
bad, indeed, would be the proper term to apply to the kind of
cattle-truck, in which Miles found himself with a detachment of the
gallant 310th Infantry; and soon the blinding dust of Egypt reminded our
young soldier that the real battle of life had fairly begun.

"You'll get over it in time, my poor fellow," said his friend Armstrong,
who sat beside him.

"You need the same consolation yourself, friend Willie," retorted Miles,
wiping the dust out of the corners of his eyes.

"I didn't mean _that_," returned his friend. "_You_ know what I mean!
But cheer up; absence makes the heart grow fonder--at the same time it
makes a fellow fit for duty. I have gone through it myself, and know
all about it."

Miles flushed and felt inclined at first to resent this allusion to the
state of his affections, but he was fortunately saved from taking any
notice of it by a sudden burst of laughter among the men at a remark
from Corporal Flynn, who, although this was his first visit to Egypt,
had undertaken to point out to his comrades the various localities which
he chose to assume were more or less connected with Scripture history!

The first part of the journey was not particularly interesting, and what
with the fine sand and the great heat, the men began to experience the
discomforts of an Eastern climate, and to make frequent application to
their water-bottles. It would have been well if they had contented
themselves with water, and with the cold tea which some of them had been
provident enough to save up at breakfast; but when they reached the
first station where there was a five minutes' halt, some of them managed
to smuggle strong drink into the train. One immediate result was that
the men became more noisy.

"Come, give us a song, Gaspard," cried several voices, apparently
inspired at the same moment with the same idea and desire.

"Wan wid a rousin' chorus, boy," cried Flynn.

Gaspard complied, being ever ready to oblige, but whether it was the
heat, or the dust, or the "rousin'" chorus, or the drink, the song was a
partial failure. Perhaps it was the excess of _tremulo_ induced by the
motion of the train! At all events it fell flat, and, when finished, a
hilarious loud-voiced man named Simkin, or Rattling Bill, struck up
"Rule Britannia," which more than made amends for the other, and was
sung