The Express.
London, England, 1868-07-07 00:00:00

THE CAMP AT WIMBLEDON.

Camp life has begun in earnest on Wimbledon
Common. There is, indeed, little to show that its
occupation is but temporary, for the preparations
made and making for the volunteers are of a
character which would befit a prolonged residence,
and seem almost disproportionate to a tenancy of
a few days. But inasmuch as the soldiers and
officers of the Scotch Fusilier/ and of the Royal
Engineers have been already encamped some time,
and as the Victories and the London Scottish have
now joined them—as, moreover, many tents will
he occupied long after the week during which the
Association prizes are shot for, it would seem that
life in camp is becoming more and more popular
for its own sake, and that firing at the butts or
practising military evolutions are morn auxiliaries
to a prolonged summer jaunt. Nor must
our volunteers be too fervently congratu-
lated on their hardihood and gallantry in
forsaking home comforts for the privations and
annoyances of an out-of-door life. " Roughing it
in camp" has a pretty but delusive sound, so far
as Wimbledon Common is concerned. The luxuries
of a well-appointed home, combined with the free
and easy jollity of an unusually social club, are
perhaps the words expressing volunteer life on
Wimbledon Common most accurately. Leaving
the main road between Putney and the camp, and
striking off to the right from Putney, we come
upon the London Scottish encampment first. The
wooden paling's are already up round the portion
of the Common to be enclosed by the Association,
but the gates and pay-places are not yet fixed, and
passing through one of the openings near the main
road we steer in the direction of the famous Wind-
mill, where the vast array of white canvas,
and blue and white boards and canopies is glis-
tening in the sun. A stroll across the turf brings
us to the Scottish camp ; and to assuage the
anxiety of such mothers and wives as are uneasy
as to the hardships being undergone by their dear
ones it will perhaps be useful to state something
of what was to be seen there yesterday after-
noon. Tents were fixed—rows of small ones for
sleeping, and larger ones for various purposes.
The former are of the umbrella type, and the
latter like so many canvas barna. They are
pitched with great regularity, and make un-
broken lines and squares. The gallant volunteers,
their kilted occupants, are gathered about them,
and with mallet in hand give a shrewd eye of
inspection and many a carefully-considered
tap to ropes and pegs. This mallet is
so much an institution at this stage of
camp life that when not in active use it is
stuck like a dirk in the belt behind, and the
volunteers seem to have added a now and ponder-
ous weapon to their stock. The tents needing
further adjustment have the whole skill of the
force brought to bear upon them. One volunteer
may be seen crawling on his stomach with a
measuring tape, to see that the distance they are
apart is mathematically correct. The muffled
voices of others may be heard from the inside, as
with grunts and groans they pull or drive some
rope or stake into its place. Others, again, are sweep-
ing up or piffling down, or giving general advice
and supervision. Councils of war are being held in
twenty places at once, in which the experienced
camp-squatter laysdown thelaw and proffers advice
to his companions in arms. Every one is busy. The
loose lounging coat of honest grey, the bright blue
waistcoats, the kilts and bonnets of these gen-
tlemen all look serviceable and appropriate amid
the heather and ferns; and the crowds of visitors
in conventional broadcloth who were squandered
about the camp on Sunday might have
envied the superior ease and comfort of the
volunteer costume. But it is necessary to peep
inside the tents to understand what our amateur
soldiers mean by camping out. Many of these are
perfect nests of luxury. "Roughing it" at Wimble-
dom is, to what is generally conveyed by the phrase,
what the country-house battue is to tiger hunt-
ing in the jungle. Iron bedsteads, Persian rugs,
Turkey carpets, flowered dressing gowns, port-
manteaus, dressing-cases, tables, easy chairs,
mirrors, vases of flowers, books, chests of drawers,
scented soap, pomades, baths, blankets, water-
proofs, rugs, andwraps innumerable go to form the
contents of some of these volunteer tents.
The central pole supporting them, which
is to the entire structure what the stick
is to the parasol or umbrella, is adorned with
military weapons and accoutrements, or with
ornaments, according to the owner's taste.
Armorial bearings blazoned on a gay little
flag are adopted at one tent ; caps, accou-
trements, and smoking jackets hang pendant
at another ; while in all of them such an abund-
ance of the knick-knacks of comfort may be dis-
cerned as to convince the most sceptical that
one of the first arts of modern volunteering
is taking care of oneself. Most of the sleeping
and dwelling tents are shared between a couple
of volunteers, whose snug iron bedsteads stand
to right and left of the entrance, and whose various
properties intercept the view by filling up the
background. The chests of drawers are no tem-
porary makebelieves but the veritable articles, in
mahogany or painted deal, which are sold and
offered to young people about to marry. These
tents are ranged in long rows so as to form can-
vas quadrangles and streets or lanes. The
cooking shed and the mess tent are more
elaborate, and the latter is of vest size.
A brick cooking range has been built up, and an
elaborate stove and apparatus fitted in for the
kitchen which stands apart. Vessels of various
size, iron and tin, are being busily cleaned and
polished, while the dinner-service is washed and
ranged in order on the grass outside. We have
spoken of this department as a shed, but it is a
substantial enough little house, and from the
number of active men and lads to be seen at work
cooking and preparing there on Sunday and yes-
terday, we have little doubt that the tables of the
large mess-tent are as handsomely provided as
they are commodious and well appointed. Waiters
in the conventional black suits and white cravats
are busily arranging vases of flowers upon the
snowy cloth. Ornate moderatorlamps swing from
the roof. The floor is boarded and raised some
inches from the turf. The head and antlers of a
departed deer decorate its main entrance, and the
Scottish rums-tent looks thoroughly what it is—a
club-room of which the temporary character
might easily be forgotten.
The Victonas are the other side of a fern-
covered hollow, and stand more completely behind
the Windmill. From their section of the camp the
trees of Richmond Park, the church at Sheen, the
Robin Hood Gate, and the splendid range of
foliage known as Combs Wood, are all to be seen
over the wild and broken common in the fore-
ground. On Sunday the energies of this coma
were devoted to its flag-staff. This ',tends in the
centre of an open space, with the tents of the
volunteers on one side, and the mess-tent, store-
tent, and "mesa-tent for shoeters" on the other. A
provision-wagon and an extensive range of under-
ground ovens spoke volumes as to the hospitable
intentions of the Victories ; and the gastro-
nomic prowess displayed at the early dinner on
Sunday, as well as at the " thick tea" in the
evening, was in itself a tribute to the health-in-
apiring air of the common. What the oonsmnp-
ton of tobacco is at these gatherings would be an
interesting point for statisticians • while its effects
upon the eyes and nerves of shooters would be a
useful problem for physiologists. Every man
seems to smoke, and to smoke a short pipe, be his
labours what they may. The military servants
smoke as they peel potatoes or empty slops. The
volunteer smokes while u his bath, while clawing
Etaf of gute and durinthe T the proems of dressing. The
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