Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

5 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

WITH THE BARMOUTH TERRITORIALS…

Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu

WITH THE BARMOUTH TERRITORIALS AT BEDFORD. THE REMOVAL FROM CAMBRIDGE. I Saturday, May 8th, What's up? what's up? was the question asked by everyone. Why all this bustle ? Oh we are off to Bedford early to-morrow; after very short notice, is the reply We slept uneasily that night. The dawn breaks, we are up with the lark. Breakfast is early, for at eight we are to be ready to march off. We fall-in, the command is given, by the right quick march," the band plays I and we start on our way. Tramp,tramp, tramp, along the dusty road we go. The sun is making the earth glad, the blossoms on the hedges open out their smiles to us as we pass. The birds sing us farewell. The people in their hundreds bid and wave us good-bye. Surely, the road to Bedford has never before bad so many marching on it. Of the varied feelings, no one can tell, for everyone of the khaki clad « Teniers" has a feeling quite his own. Many were the expressions on their faces, a few heeded not the waving and cheering crowd, they thought only of the long tramp in front of them, and of the heavy pack 's they carried, they left, without any feeling at all. Others had eyes dimmed with tears, at the fervour of the send-off, many a one bad a bard struggle to bold back the tears, which were on the point of overflowing, as he bid good-bye, perhaps for ever, to a young lady, who had made a place for herself in their hearts. Others passed on with jest and laughter, they had no cares. Tramp, tramp, tramp, over the dusty road we go. Does the road lead from life to death for anyone ? Alas! it has proved so for one, for he expired on the road. A sad tale to write his home Do we say good-bye for ever to Cambridge? Who knows? The future is dark. Tramp, tramp, tramp, along the dusty road we go, carrying with us the remembrance of a hundred acts of kindness done us by the people we at a leaving. So we march on, and leave Cambridge -with a sad heart—some of us—for many and many a one of us bad endpared ourselves to. the local people. Tramp, tramp, tramp, along the dusty road we go, till St. Neoles, which is eighteen miles off, is reached, where we arrive a little weary and footsore, to be put in comfortable billets for the night. Bugles call it is morning again, the day has broken finely. Tramp, tramp, tramp again is the order, we have to I cover twelve miles to-day to reach our destination. The road to-day is still more weary and footsore,but by sheer grit we tramp, tramp on. The smoke of Bedford is rising on the horizon, it cheers us up, no one knows only the weary how the smoke of one's destination bucks one's spirits up. Tramp, tramp, tramp along the dustry road we go, and draw near to the outskirts of the town. Bands strike a tune, our muscles are re- laxed, we., best we can, march through the town with a swinging gait. The crowd cheer us, pity us, for many of us look done-up. We manage to sing out a favourate song, but our weariness was not condueive to lusty singing, but the sentiment was there. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was overtaxed and weak. Marching on we pass under the statute raised to the memory of John Bunyan He looks down on us- thousands of pilgrims-whose progress from Cambridge had taxed them to the utmost. We still march on to the other end of the town,where we are shown into comfortable billets. We find everybody with a ready welcome, for they had heard from Northampton how we behaved ourselves there. To-night, bed is sure to be sweet for the lot of us. And we deserve it, I. R.H.R.

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