Edwin G. Rundle opens his memoir not with a battle but with a birth in Penryn, Cornwall, and a father who was a strict teetotaler. The narrative voice is matter-of-fact, almost understated: Rundle notes that his father 'assured us that temperance would form the basis of our future prosperity and happiness.' This plain, declarative style persists throughout the excerpts, even when describing moments of high tension, such as a false alarm along the St. Croix River that sent buglers sounding the alarm over what turned out to be imagined Fenian ships. The reader is immediately placed inside the mind of a man who values clarity and order—a quality that shapes both his military career and his storytelling.

A Carpenter’s Son Joins the Colors

Rundle’s early life is sketched with economy. He was apprenticed as a carpenter and joiner, and his father worked as a paper-maker. The family’s temperance principles are mentioned without sentimentality. When Rundle decides to enlist, he does not dramatize the moment; instead, he presents it as a practical step. The commentary by Major Henry J. Woodside, who edited the manuscript, praises Rundle’s 'pleasant and simple style of narrative.' That simplicity is evident in the way Rundle describes his rise through the ranks: he credits 'honest effort' and does not linger on hardship. The reader learns about the structure of the British army—the roles of sergeant-major, adjutant, and brigade clerk—through Rundle’s own progression, not through abstract explanation. His account of a general court-martial for a private who stabbed a sergeant is given in precise procedural detail, listing the composition of the court and the sentence of penal servitude for life. This is not a confession of emotion but a record of how the system worked.

The Fenian Scare and the Bugle That Cried Wolf

In 1866, Rundle’s regiment was sent to St. Andrews, New Brunswick, to counter an anticipated Fenian invasion. He describes the expedition as 'a picnic' and 'a change,' a tone that undercuts the official gravity. The most vivid episode is a night alarm: sentries on the riverbank saw 'lights of varied colors' and concluded a Fenian fleet was approaching. The bugler sounded the alarm, which was repeated by the guard at regimental headquarters. No enemy appeared. Rundle does not mock the mistake; he simply reports it. The incident reveals how rumor and vigilance intertwined in a border garrison. He also notes that several men deserted, lured by Fenian recruiters, and that one such recruiter was caught and fined. The details—the Hackett Hotel used for headquarters, the Charlotte militia doing outpost duty—ground the narrative in specific places and routines. Rundle’s role as brigade clerk kept him busy 'making out orders and instructions for the establishing of new posts,' a task that suited his methodical nature.

Theatre, Charity, and the Musical Libretto

Amid the military preparations, Rundle records a cultural interlude: the regiment presented Dickens’ Christmas Carol as a theatrical performance, with a musical libretto written by Sergeant Smith. Rundle quotes a stanza of the libretto, which includes the lines 'Zounds! these niggers raised the shindies, / Cracking crowns and court-house windies.' The language reflects the racial attitudes of the period and the informal, sometimes coarse humor of the soldiers. The performance was 'a decided success,' raising hundreds of dollars for charitable institutions in the city. This episode is one of the few moments where Rundle steps away from military procedure to describe a communal event. It also shows how the regiment integrated into civilian life, using entertainment to build goodwill. Rundle’s willingness to include the libretto verbatim—even with its dated slang—demonstrates his commitment to recording the texture of daily experience, not just official history.

The Red River Expedition and the Opening of the West

Rundle’s participation in the Red River Expedition is mentioned in the introduction as a key achievement, but the excerpts do not contain his own account of it. The editor, Major Woodside, frames the expedition as helping 'to open up and develop that western empire whose golden tide of grain is now flowing into the wheat bins of the British Empire.' This is the language of 1909, when the memoir was published, and it reflects a retrospective view of Canadian expansion. Rundle’s own voice, however, is more restrained. He identifies himself as a 'member of the Red River Expedition' in the title page, but the surviving text does not elaborate. The reader must infer that his later role as instructor at the Toronto Military School—where he trained men who became 'prominent in Canadian affairs'—was a direct outcome of his frontier service. The gaps in the excerpts remind us that this is a partial record, and that Rundle’s full story likely contained more about the logistics and challenges of that northern journey.

Rundle’s memoir is best approached as a primary document of Victorian military life, not as a polished autobiography. His plain style and attention to procedure—court-martial composition, brigade orders, sentry protocols—offer a rare enlisted man’s perspective on the British army in Canada. Readers interested in the Fenian raids, the Red River Expedition, or the social world of a 19th-century regiment will find specific, trustworthy details. The gaps in the narrative, particularly around the Red River journey, invite further research. This is a soldier’s own record, unvarnished and direct.