and the object of every ambitious young officer was to get into one department or another—­political, civil, or the army staff.  My father had always impressed upon me that the political department was the one to aspire to, and failing that, the Quartermaster-General’s, as in the latter there was the best chance of seeing service.  I had cherished a sort of vague hope that I might some day be lucky enough to become a Deputy Assistant-Quartermaster-General, for although I fully recognized the advantages of a political career, I preferred being more closely associated with the army, and I had seen enough of staff work to satisfy myself that it would suit me; so the few words spoken to me by Colonel Becher made me supremely happy.

It never entered into my head that I should get an early appointment; the fact of the Quartermaster-General thinking of me as a possible recruit was quite enough for me.  I was in no hurry to leave the Horse Artillery, to which I was proud of belonging, and in which I hoped to see service while still on the frontier.  I left Simla very pleased with the result of my visit, and very grateful to Colonel Becher, who proved a good friend to me ever after, and I made my way to Mian Mir, where I went through the riding-school course, and then returned to Peshawar.

(1856) The winter of 1855-56 passed much as the cold weather generally does in the north of India.  Our amusements consisted of an occasional race-meeting or cricket match.  Polo was unknown in those days, and hunting the jackal, a sport which has been a source of so much recreation to the Peshawar garrison for thirty odd years, had not then been thought of.  It was a pleasant change to visit the outposts, and whenever I got the chance I rode over to Mardan, where the Corps of Guides were stationed, commanded by that gallant soldier, Harry Lumsden,[8] who had raised the corps in 1846 under the auspices of Henry Lawrence.  Many were the good gallops I enjoyed with his hawks, hunting the aubara.[9] Of work there was plenty at Peshawar, for the Brigadier, Sydney Cotton,[10] kept us alive with field days, carefully instilling into us his idea that parade-grounds were simply useful for drill and preliminary instruction, and that as soon as the rudiments of a soldier’s education had been learnt, the troops should leave their nursery, and try as far as possible to practise in peace what they would have to do in war.  Sydney Cotton was never tired of explaining that the machinery of war, like all other machinery, should be kept, so to speak, oiled and ready for use.

My dream of a staff appointment was realized more quickly than I had expected.  In the early part of 1856 the Surveyor-General applied for the services of two or three experienced officers to assist in the survey of Kashmir.  Lumsden, the D.A.Q.M.G., was one of those selected for the duty, and I was appointed to officiate for him.  So delighted was I to get my foot on the lowest rung of the staff ladder, that