"Mamma and Papa desire me to say that they were very much gratified at reading that you acquitted yourself so well at the examination, and Papa has given me a cheque to enclose which, I dare say, you horrid creature, will make your sister's letter less of a 'baw' than usual. I sincerely hope that you will profit by the address of that dear old white-headed Sir James, and learn to be "considerate of the feelings and wishes of those around you;" that is, that you will not grumble in the holidays at having to take Julia and me to the Opera, or insist on smoking in your bedroom when you know that the smoke comes under Maria's door. However, I won't scold you as you have been such a good boy at school—bless me, College, I mean; ten millions of pardons, I'm sure.
"On Monday we all went to the Camp at Chobham, choosing the day quite accidentally, but so fortunately. The next morning while I was cutting the Times for Papa, I was greatly delighted to read this:—
"'The ladies especially showed a surprising knowledge and appreciation of the manœuvres performed. Should our brave defenders ever be called upon to protect our homes and altars, regiments such as those now at Chobham will not, despite the Peace Society, want Daughters—though in these piping times they have none.'"
As to the last part, if one could hope to equal that dear divine Jenny Lind in La Figlia, one would almost not mind wearing the odious costume, though of all the ungraceful—but what do you boys know about such things? I want to assure you that the first part of the story is quite true, and shows that the clever gentleman who wrote it sets more value on the opinion of young ladies than some young gentlemen do whom I could name, but will not. Now, as an account of what we saw must be useful to you in your studies (though you are only in the Civil Service), I will tell you a little about it, and Papa says you are to send him a comparison between the battle of Cannæ (is that spelt right?) and the battle of Curley.
"We got a capital place for seeing, and we had not been on the ground many minutes before some one blew a horn, and out ran numbers of those large green beetles of Riflemen, and began to pretend to skirmish but, as there was nobody to face them, they looked great sillies. But presently there was a heavy tramping, and on came the Guards, looking perfectly splendid, and ran up a hill. But I should tell you that on the top of this hill were some Sappers and Miners (it seemed an odd place to put them), and some soldiers with short guns, and when the Guards had gone a little way up the hill, the others let off their guns at them. Then the Guards pretended they could not advance any higher, so the great cannons were set roaring off, and I thought I should never get the throbbing out of my ears. Well, I suppose this encouraged the Guards, for they made another rush; and, at the same time, the Household Troops and the Light Dragoons went galloping and tearing in the same direction, and looking as if they could ride over everything in the world. However, they didn't, for it seems that it was necessary to fire more cannons, only this time it was the Horse Artillery. After this there was great confusion, and I do not believe that anybody knew what he was to do; however, they all got upon the hill, and their swords and helmets sparkled beautifully in the sunshine. Lastly, those Highlanders, with the legs, made a long line, and then gave way for the others to come through it, like the opening figure in the First Set, and the green beetles began popping again, and the cannons were let off once more. Then they all went off the ground, and we had a dreadful to-do with a gipsy baby, which Julia had foolishly taken to hold; and the mother went away, leaving the brown little creature with us, and could not be found until long after we were ready to go. James said that if we left it on the grass it would be all safe; but this we would not hear of. The poor child would have been the better for the tub you used to hate so a few years ago when Mr. Henry was only Master.
"Now, you are to say whether this was like the battle of Cannæ—I don't mean as to the baby, of course. And, if you will take my opinion, the evolutions were all nonsense. I do not see the use of cannon at all, and I am quite certain that, if the Guards rushed at an enemy as they ran up that hill at first, the enemy would run away at once. Also I think the cavalry and the infantry ought to be mixed up together, because then the soldiers on horseback could protect the others, and change with them when the poor men on foot were tired. Besides those dear horses never kick, so it would be quite safe; a soldier told me that, as I was giving his lovely black horse a sponge cake which he eat out of my hand. I think that if you gave this idea to the masters at your school—College, I mean—you would be thought very clever. But decidedly I do not like the cannons, and I am certain they are of no use.
"You are to write directly to say that the cheque is all safe, and everybody unites in love. Fan's guinea-pig is dead. Baby has had the measles, like the Prince of Wales. Can you polk better than you did? What is good for my canary while it is moulting? Do not forget about Cannæ, and if I have spelt it wrong take no notice to papa.
"Your ever affectionate sister,
"Caroline Bertha Louisa.
"P.S.—Your flirt, Marion Waters, is going to be married. Hee, hee, hee!!!"