The bearing of the troops was chivalrous in its gentleness, and not the least astonishing sight to the inhabitants was the passing of the Guards, the dandy troops of England, the body-servants of the great Queen.

Black with sun and dust, staggering after a march of thirty-eight miles, gaunt and haggard, with their clothes in such a state that decency demanded that some of the men should be discreetly packed away in the heart of the dense column, they still swung into the town with the aspect of Kentish hop-pickers and the bearing of heroes.

She, the venerable mother, could remember the bearded ranks who marched past her when they came with sadly thinned files back from the Crimean winter; even those gallant men could not have endured more sturdily, nor have served her more loyally, than these their worthy descendants.
It was just a month after the start from Ramdam that Lord Roberts and his army rode into the enemy's capital.

Up to that period we had in Africa Generals who were hampered for want of troops, and troops who were hampered for want of Generals.

Only when the Commander-in-Chief took over the main army had we soldiers enough, and a man who knew how to handle them.