The Sun.
London, England, 1868-07-13 00:00:00

CAMP LIFE AT WIMBLEDON.

Writing on Sunday evening from the scene of the great
rifle contests, the Daily Wczcs correspondent gives the follow-
ing interesting description of camp life :—" The contrast
between the rough-and-ready out-of-door picnic life which
:amp residence must under any circumstances be, and the
'uxuries with which the Wimbledon enclosure abounds,
continues to be very striking. There are few things
which cannot be bought here. Opera - glasses,
srmolu clocks, meat safes, dressing-cases, boots,
shoes, easy chairs, rugs, carpets, cushions, scents,
sill, pomades, hair brushes, fancy pipes, tobacco
oouches, waterproof coats, hassocks, accordions, rings,
pins, brooches, knives, are all to be had at the bazaars.
These form a lane of tents by themselves, and their
awners are busily unpacking and exposing their wares
to tempt the passer-by. The bazaars at Cairo and
other great emporiums in the East are suggested
by some of them. A French provincial fair, and
sections of Tottenham-court-road on Saturday night,
or of the Lowther Arcade at any time, are brought
to mind by others. Piles of valuable merchandise
of the most heterogeneous character lay massed
together in apparently inextricable confusion on the grass.
The dealers and their assistants arc unpacking boxes, or
nailing banners with their own names or those of their
favourite wares outside their tent-stall. A little further
on arc the huge cast-iron water-tanks ; and here volunteers
and soldiers of the line are performing al fresco toilets, and
gracefully refreshing each other by alternately turning
taps upon their heads. Water-dabblers, from the man
washing and wringing out his well-worn pocket-handkerchief
and socks to the one rinsing and filling a valuable silver
cup, and the gallant amateurs with barrels and carts,
follow each other in rapid succession, or work side by
side. The quartermaster's tent at the corner of the
canvas lane leading towards the back of the common is
very busy. The soldiers inside have books and plans of
the camp, and the new corners crowd round the tent
entrance to know tlse whereabouts of their sleeping-place.
A. card, a number, an interrogatory, and a reply,
and the sunburnt, dusty-looking volunteer, from
Yorkshire or Cornwall, is sent on his way, number
and ticket in hand, to his tent. The portions of
the encampment for which the association is solely respon-
sible are kept in order by a large staff of commissionaires
engaged for the purpose ; while the corps occupying what
is termed the regimental camp make their own arrange.
ments for its cleanliness. All detachments finding their
own camp equipage come under the latter category.
Officers in uniform canter from one end of the camp to the
other, stopping for a moment here, giving a word of
admonition or encouragement there, and comporting
themselves generally as men with much on their minds.
Vehicles of all kinds are driving over the roads—extem-
pore and finished—of the enclosure. Aristocratic mail
phaetons, with coronet on sides ; humble tradesmen's
carts, drawn by frisky ponies which seem impudently
anxious to try their speed against that of the superb
cattle curvetting proudly in the front ; breaks, and drags,
and flys, heavily laden with volunteers and their luggage
from the stations of Putney and Wimbledon ; great family
chariots from the banking glory of Roehampton, or from
other of the many vast establishments near; visitors to the
guardsmen and officers of the line and to the volunteers,
idle sightseers, people eager to prosecute their various
trades, and people with apparently no occupa-
tion under heaven save that of getting in the way,
snake up an ever-moving, ever-changing crowd. The
flowers and shrubs in pots and in. improvised beds
round the different tents and mess-rooms are
being watered by men who, with a refreshing uncon-
sciousness of what the night will bring forth,
are murmuring bitterly at the effects of the long-continued
drought. The scene does not alter materially until after
dark. A fresh breeze springs up about sun-down, and the
delicate pink of the sky is accompanied by appearances
more threatening ; but the least hint of rain is met
derisively by people who declare they have been deceived
into expecting it by precisely similar foreshadowings this
month past."