These caves were
cut out by convict labour as a refuge from the fierce heat of the
summer months. The third is a flat tombstone by the lawn-tennis
ground, inscribed "Here lies a British Midshipman 1810," nothing more;
no name, no age, no particulars. I have often wondered how that
forlorn, nameless, ageless midshipman came to be lying in the
Admiral's garden. He was probably drowned and washed ashore without
anything to identify him, so they buried him where they found him.
The particular white battalion quartered in Bermuda during my first
visit there was very fortunate in its ladies, for it had an unusual
proportion of married officers. I have the greatest admiration for
these plucky little women who accompany their husbands all over the
globe, and who always seem to manage, however narrow their means, to
create a cheerful and attractive little home for their menkind. They
all appeared able to dress themselves well, though, if the truth were
known, they were probably mostly their own dressmakers, and, owing to
the servant difficulty in Bermuda, their own cooks as well; they had
transformed their little white-washed houses into the most inviting
little dwellings, and in spite of having to do a great part of their
own housework, they always managed to look pretty and charming.
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