Morning journal and courier., 1884-11-03
Arrival of Marching orders at Alder
shot. [R. F. Zogbaum in Harper's Magazine for Octo

[R. F. Zogbaum in Harper's Magazine for Octo-
 Der.
 And now the quiet of the summer season. with it's round of drills, parades, inspections, and all the daily recurring episodes of the life of the camp, is broken by darkening thunder=clouds of war, sweeping up in gloomy, threatening masses and flashes of 1urid lightning from the eastward of the po- 1itical horizon.
 Marching orders from the Horse Guards have arrived. Aldershot is in state of ex- citement and hustle, preparing and muster ing the forces for departure for the seat of war, and Tommy, ever ready for fight, or a change in the monotony of his daily exist ence, is filled with enthusiasm and eager for the fray.
 It is between three and four o'clock in the morning, and the gray light is just stealing through the mist of the gently falling rain, as I stand in the Farnsborough station listen ing to the distant cheering and the plaintive strains of ''Auld Lang Syne," which betoken the approach of some departing regiment. A long line of railway carriages and horse trucks, their wet tops glistening, and the black smoke from the locomotive curling over them, stands in readiness alongside the platform. Some porters are engaged taking off the tarpaulins that have covered a little pile of luggage, and are slowing it away in one of the vans, and the stationmaster and his assistants are hurrying about, busy in their preparations for the reception of their freight. Up the station road two horsemen, trotting rapidly along, loom up through the mist; further behind them we can see a dark mass moving slowly toward us, and the sound of the music grows louder and more distinct as the troops come forward and halt on the I.s1 oI,o 4o410 cavalry, and as the leading squadron breaks from the column and marches in through the gates we see that they are hussars. The men are clad in their campaign dresses-dark blue serge blouses, white sun helmets and ''pug- garees," well-flled haversacks and canteens, untanned leather boots, carbines and sabres. Their saddles are packed in heavy marching order, and there is decidedly business-like look about both men and horses. They dis mount and form their horses into line, un- buckle their sabres, and together with the carbines place them on the ground in their rear and immediately commence the business of embarking. One by one the horses are led forward and driven, pushed and forced into the trucks. Gradually the inclosure about the station is filling up. A general officer with his aide and couple of orderlies has arrived, q brake filled with officers who have come to bid their friends farewell drives up, and here and there poor soldiers wife with tear-stained face, perhaps two or three tow-headed children clinging to her skirts, sobs on the shoulder of some stalwart fel- low. The scene becomes ivelier the awakening day sheds fuller light on the busy crowd, and troop after troop enters the sta tion as the horses of the preceding ones are put on board the train; bundles of hay and forage for the batting of the horses during the journey to the coast are handed into the cars from the heavy wagons of the Army Service corps, luggage is slowed away under the seats in the carriages, or corded firmly under the tarpaulins on the tops. Near the first-class carriage at the head of the train the officers are smoking parting cigar with their friends, sergeants and corporals and busy orderlies are moving about, and the men, picking up their weapons, are falling in again preparatory to embarking in their turn. The colonel is receiving a few parting direc- tions from the general-a fine, aristocratic, middle-aged gentleman with soldierly bear ing and gray military mustache and whiskers, the gold-braided peak of his cap drawn down over his eyes, and his overcoat covering his plain tasteful, undress uniform. The last horse has been shut in; the last struggling soldier has taken his place in the carriages, the windows of which are crowded with heads the last good-byes are said sobbing women and children watch husband and father with streaming eyes; the younger and more thoughtless of the soldiers are crack es his helmet, and with shake of the generals hand turns to the train. ''Get on board, gentlemen"-to the officers. "All ready" The station-1naster raises his hand, the whistle of the locomotive shrieks, the band the platform strikes up ''Auld wing wheels of the engine begin to mover Goodbye, Mary, Tom, Katie. God bless youI Good luck! And amid loud cheers the long train glides down the long line of glistening rails and disappears around a curve.