The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1881-07-16 00:00:00

THE NEW FRENCH POLICY IN
AFRICA.

The Standard (in a leader) says that, although many
well-informed persons believe that France is bent
upon picking a quarrel with Turkey, it is far more
probable that "though the assertion of an effective
Prantorate over Tunis was deliberately planned and
systematically asserted, the step was taken by persons
incapable of perceiving the difficulties, dangers, and
embarrassments to which it would probably conduct
the French people. It is also possible that the French
Government, though it now perceives the results it is
at present encountering, is still blind to the further
results that ar a yet to arise. Under these circum-
stances, would it not be just as well for the English
Foreign Office to point out to the French Government
the contingencies to which it seems insensible, and
likewise what will inevitably happen if those contin-
gencies become realities? But the country is begin-
ning to think that the time has come when advantage
might arise if our Government were to convey to the
Government of M. Grevy an intimation of the view
which the English people would take if France were
to carry her interference in any form into Tripoli.' _

The funeral of the late Dr. Cumming took place on
Tuesday in the Kensal-green Cemetery.

TO WINDSOR AND BACK WITH THE
"ARTISTS."

Under the above heading the St. James's Gazette gives a
graphic and interesting description of the march of a
battalion of Volunteers to the Review at Wiudsor, from
which we make the following extracts : _ _

The battalion, sail the special orders—the battalion
will parade at 8 a.m., sharp: and sure enough when I
appeared on the scene—that is to say, on the Thames
Embankment at the bottom of Northumberland-
avenue—there the battalion was, drawn up in eight
strong companies each the centre of admiring circles
of spectators. Here the scene was a more than pretty
one—a harmony in grey and silver. On the road were
the grey uniforms of the men, with silver braid and
silver facings; on the river the thin mist was a soft
tender grey, and the sun had turned the water into a
bright sparkling stream of molten silver. One had
time to note all this and more besides, as we moved
off by way of Westminster Bridge to Waterloo
Station Very little delay occurred in
getting us off. The officers of the regulars who
directed the arrangements evidently knew their
business, and everything went as smoothly as
possible. In the carriages, those who had overslept
themselves and had had to "make a rush for it" now
dressed properly, singing songs the while, to prove an
undisturbed mind. In the intervals of talk we could
note the landscape through which we were being car-
ried ' • and I do not remember a more pleasant and in-
teresting journey. The rains had made the trees and
grass and corn wonderfully fresh and green; the banks
and fields were bright with the colours of every sort of
wild flowers ; the birds sang joyously in the sunshine ;
and over all hung the soft grey haze which itself seemed
to shed light on field and hill. Nor was the human in-
terest wanting. People of all sorts and sizes evidfntly
interested themselves in the review. Women came to
windows and gates and doorways with their babies, to
watch the trains go past • men idled at level crossings
and leaned on the parapets of bridges with the same
purpose ; whilst the children seemed positively frantic
with delight—the boys sitting on hedges or perched
on trees, and cheering lustily, with much swinging
and twirling of arms and tossing of hats; the girls,
less demonstrative perhaps but quite as interested as
their male playmates standing in groups demurely
and waving their handkerchiefs with half-shy but very
evident pleasure.
At last Datchet was reached. I could see a regi-
ment of artillery marching out of a field close to the
station, and two bearskinned officers of the Guards on
horseback, who apparently took a special interest in
us. One of them turned out to be Colonel Moncrieff,
who was to make the annual inspection before we took
up our position in the park. The bugle having
sounded, the men left the carriages; formed fours
right, and marched into the field just vacated by the
artillery, whence, after a little " dressing " and gene-
ral settling down, they proceeded to another field a
little distance off for the inspection. . . .

The inspection, with the little speech at the end of
it being over, the baggage wagon was brought into the
field, arms were piled, and we made an attack on our
havresacks. Hard-boiled eggs, cold beefsteak, and
sandwiches disappeared rapidly, and buckets of beer
were very soon emptied, filled again and emptied again.
After lunch we rested for awhile, discussing the
fragrant weed. Here and there a man starts a song,
others crog ding round and joining in the chorus
with such a will that the strains of the bands of the
various corps continuously arriving at the station close
by were almost drowned. At last the wagon is re-
loaded with the sacks of bread, mess-tins, beer-cans,
pails, and other baggage; the ground is cleared of all
bits of paper and remnants of the feast, the men
fall in, the colonel gives the word, and off we start for
our position in the First Army Corps.

Everything has been admirably arranged, and as we
near the Park we can see in the windings of the road
the "London Scottish" and the "Inns of Court," in
their proper places, in front of us. The pontoon
bridge is reached in due course, the river on each side
of it being crowded with boats filled mostly with fair
ladies who have come to watch the passage of the
troops. It was the first time I had ever trodden a
bridge of the kind; but even from this very limited
experience I can say I don't like it. Of course, we broke
step, but even then the swaying was very great; and I
think a very little more would have sent several of us
into the water, for it was only wide enough for four
men to march abreast. However, no mishap occurred,
and I suppose we must judge these matters by
results. .. . The river safely crossed, we march
steadily on. The crowds of people and volunteers, in
every variety of uniform, thickened at every step;
whilst right and left and in front we could discern
regiment upon regiment, either drawn up In quarter.
column or advancing across the park, with their bands
playing. Staff officers, grandly hatted, were career-
ing acrOss the ground and consulting with generals of
division. All was excitement, movement, interest.
At last, after much marching and wheeling, we were
put in our right position: arms were piled, and then
again refreshing drink, with ice for all who could get
it—and I do not think there were many who went
without. Some, indeed, not only put lumps of it
into their mouths and broke it into little pieces for
their waterbottles, but also put it on the tops of their
heads, where it melted gradually—the cold water
thus generated trickling pleasantly down the cheeks
and round the neck. . . .

Presently the bugles rang out, and in a few minutes
we advanced by brigades to take up our final positions.
Gradually the review-ground cleared, and between us
and the spectators was a vast expanse of greensward,
dotted here and there by a general or a staff officer;
whilst occasionally a galloper or aide-de-camp sped
swiftly along on his mission. Some time was spent
in alternately lying down and standing up in conse-
quence of several false alarms of the vicinity or
approach of the Duke of Cambridge. But at last his
Royal Highness did appear, with a very brilliant staff,
and stopped to exchange a few words with Sir Frederick
Leighton; after which he entered into an animated
discussion with a general by his side, in consequence
of which there was much referring to papers, a stating
of the case, a slight objection, a new argument, a
general consultation ending in an agreement which
to all appearances was very satisfactory. Then the
Staff moved On, and there was nothing else of interest
to engage the attention—excepting, of course, the
water-bottles--until the sound of the first gun of the
royal salute was heard. Then everybody sprang
to attention. Presently cheers were heard, and those
who dared to look to the right, as I did, would have
seen the head of the procession emerging from under
the trees of the Long Walk. In a minute or two the
procession was advancing along the lines; the officer
commanding our division gave the order for the bands
to "play up quick," and the grand strains of our
national hymn thrilled the hearts of us all. Then the
royal carriage passed—the Queen and the Princess of
Wales smiling and looking very pleased—followed by
the officers of foreign armies. . . .

Another little wait, and the March-past commenced.
And a march-past of this kind is no joke—to a volun-
teer. There was a long space to be traversed ; and it
is more tiring to hold a rifle " at the shoulder" than in
any other position, to say nothing of the all-important
matter of dressing. However, we went at it with a
will ; and, to judge from our colonel's pleased expres-
sion and his remark afterwards, "Well, boys, I think
you've done very well! "I should imagine we have no
reason to be dissatisfied.

--
Immediately after the march-past we moved off the
ground on our way to Slough, where it was arranged
we should sleep I never enjoyed a wash so
much in my life. Cleansed and refreshed, we re-
turned to the lines, and by-and-by made a terrific and
wholly successful onslaught upon the beef, bread, and
beer which were provided for us. Vegetables there
were also, salad, and even pickles! Then was it
discovered that cold carrot is not as indigestible as
it seems, and I found several new virtues in a hot
potato. The meal over we turned out into the open—
we bivouacked in a field—pipes were lit, and each corn-
pany commenced what we call a social—that is to say,
the men belonging to A Company stand round in a
circle two or three deep, and one of them sings a song
with a rattling chorus, if possible, in which they all
join. As many of us are musical and have respectable
voices, the effect is not at all bad. Excerpts from
" Carmen " and " Patience " seemed to be in the
ascendant, but there were plenty of quaint and ancient
ditties, well known and beloved, which were also to be
heard. Then fatigue parties were formed to carry
straw from a barn into a large marquee in which many
men were to sleep, the remainder being lodged in hay-
lofts and the like. We had a struggle to accommo-
date our men, who, in spite of many falling
out to return to London, still numbered close
upon 700. I was lodged in a hay-loft; and for long
after " Lights out" had sounded there was a perpetual
stream of inquiries from officers as to whether we could
not make room for any more. Men etumbled up the
ladder, and bungled Bird blundered over their com-
rades lying in the straw. It was well-nigh impossible
to sleep, some men apparently thinking it quite "the
thing" to talk and joke all night long. At last I
managed to drop off, but was roused again in about a
couple of hours to find the daylight shining through
the little windows, and the birds carolling outside.
It was only three a.m., yet a lot of men were carrying
on conversation in tones loud enough to rouse the
heaviest sleeper. . . .
Breakfast-time came at last, and at eleven we
paraded, turning out (all things considered) in a very
smart way. After the usual preliminaries, we marched
away, amidst the undisguised admiration of a young
ladies boarding school on its way to church and to the
scandalizing tune of " Over the garden-wall." Sunday
was by far the hottest day, and the march to Datchet
was the most trying part of the outing. Alps
well that ends well, however, and we arrived safe
[by railway] at Kew Bridge, whence we marched to
Gunnersbury Park ; where, thanks to the hospitality
of the Baroness ].othschild, a splendid luncheon
awaited us. The afternoon was spent quietly and plea-
santly in strolling through the beautiful grounds of the
park, or lying down under the shade of the fine old
trees; and shortly after five o'clock we started for
, town, rousing the districts through which we passed
with clang of drum and shrilly sound of fife. We
reached town about seven; and, dusty, sunburnt, a
little tired but still jolly, we returned to our homes,
glad and proud to have taken part in so important a
ceremony as the review of Saturday, and very much
the better for the outing.