an uproar. We mustered, at an early hour, in a large field, adjoining
Captain Tucker's tan-pits; and only nine men and one officer did not
answer to their names. The officer was Surgeon Tamlen;--he was obliged
to remain in attendance on Lieutenant Squill's good lady, who was really
of such an affectionate and anxious turn, that her forebodings lest the
lieutenant should get hurt had so worked upon her nerves, that he left
her with positive symptoms of fever. Nothing, however, could deter him
from doing his duty; he felt satisfied that all her wants and wishes
would be attended to by Surgeon Tamlen, in his absence, and joined us
in very tolerable spirits, considering all things. I forgot to mention
that, besides the defaulters, a third of the grenadiers were absent
on some secret service, the nature of which we could not divine,
notwithstanding the lieutenant-colonel winked very significantly when we
noticed their non-appearance. Several ladies, in barouches and landaus,
with buff favours in their bosoms and bonnets,--the wives and daughters
of the officers and other leading men in the borough,--saluted us as
they dashed along the road which bounded the field, on their way to
the hill. Such a circumstance as a sham fight had not occurred in our
neighbourhood within the memory of man; and every lady was, naturally
enough, anxious to witness the interesting scene, in which her husband
or father was to bear some conspicuous part. Precisely as the clock
of the Borough Hall struck eight, we marched off, with drums beating,
colours flying, and everything agreeable and auspicious. I must give
the lieutenant-colonel the credit to say that, in our preliminary
manoeuvres, as well as during the march, the officers and men were much
more comfortable than if the adjutant had been with us; the latter being
a man who was eternally finding fault, where no other individual in the
regiment could perceive any thing to be amiss. After a distressing march
of two hours and a half, along a dusty road, we reached the rear of the
hill. There we halted for about twenty minutes, and then proceeded to
mount the acclivity, all the difficulties of which we overcame, and
on our arrival at its summit, were gratified by a prospect which fully
recompensed us for our toils. The secret service on which the
grenadiers had been sent was now very pleasantly palpable. Our excellent
lieutenant-colonel, whose prudence and attention on all occasions, no
words of mine can sufficiently applaud, had despatched, at day-break,
two artillery-waggons, which he had requested for the purpose from the
general, under convoy of our grenadiers, to the post we were to occupy.
The first waggon contained thirty rounds--not of ball-cartridges--but
beef, a strong detachment of turkies, a squadron of hams, a troop of
tongues, and several battalions of boiled fowls and legs of mutton. The
second waggon was garrisoned by hampers of wine, ale, and liquors;
and plates, knives and forks, bread, cheese, mustard, and all the
_etceteras_ of the table, were billetted in the various crannies and
corners. There was only one drawback on the delight which the appearance
of so many good things produced:--the men, not having been made
acquainted with the lieutenant-colonel's kind intention of ordering
a cold collation out of our surplus funds, for refreshment after our
intended repulse of the Highlanders, had each brought his dinner in his
knapsack; or, where no private and individual provision had been made,
messes were arranged, and every man carried his separate quota for
the general good. For instance:--one had charged his knapsack with a
beef-steak pie, another with a ham, a third with a fillet of veal, a
fourth with a keg of ale, and so on. Notwithstanding this, we could not
help admiring our lieutenant-colonel's foresight, in providing for our
wants and comforts. It was certainly to be wished though, that he had
not restricted himself to a wink or a nod on the occasion; and this was
the chief mistake in judgment which he committed, much to his praise be
it spoken, in the course of that arduous and eventful day. The ladies,
who had left their landaus and barouches at the foot of the hill, were
busy, on our arrival, laying out the refreshments in the most elegant
and tasteful manner imaginable:--each dish was garnished by laurel
leaves; and in the centre of the cloths, which were laid upon a part of
the ground that was levelled and mown for the purpose, we beheld, as
we marched along the flank of the collation, a device in confectionary,
which excited the warmest approbation of the whole corps--officers as
well as men: it consisted of a variety of expressive and appropriate
martial ornaments, around which buff ribbons were entwined, supporting
a splendid cage of barley-sugar, with a bird cut out of currant-jelly
inside it, and a cap of liberty surmounting the whole!--We gave three
cheers at the sight, and instantly prepared for action. But the colonel,
with evident indignation and his accustomed dignity, reprimanded the
corps in general, and two of the privates,--butchers and brothers,
by-the-by, who were sharpening knives on their bayonets,--in particular,
for this improper and very unsoldier-like ebullition. He pointed to
the Highlanders, who were already forming for attack at the foot of
the hill; and bade us remember that, in his last general orders, he
had specially enjoined every officer and man in the corps to eat a good
breakfast before he left home; so that no one had any excuse for being
hungry these two hours. The grenadiers were ordered to fix bayonets
in front of the collation, and the main body of the corps immediately
obeyed the word of command to march. In a few moments we were at the
brow of the hill; and there, in the presence of the Highlanders, and,
indeed, two-thirds of the whole field, the lieutenant-colonel put us
through as much of the platoon exercise as he thought fit. Only three
muskets were dropped during the drill; and, at its conclusion, the
lieutenant-colonel, Major Arkfoot, and the other officers who were
picked out for the staff, rode through the ranks, diffusing courage and
confidence, with small glasses of brandy, to every man in the corps.
“At length we heard the enemy's right wing opening a tremendous fire far
away on our left; the lieutenant-colonel immediately dismounted, for his
horse did not exhibit sufficient symptoms of discipline to warrant our
commander's retaining his seat; and, at that moment, the Highlanders
struck up a popular tune on their bagpipes, to which, on turning our
eyes towards the munitions, we observed our fair ladies reeling it away,
very elegantly, with the gallant grenadiers. On came the enemy, gaily,
as if they were going to a wedding; but, wait a bit, thought we, they
will look rather foolish when they come to the bank of the brook,--of
which they really did not seem to be aware. We were all ready to
break out into one universal shout of laughter at their surprise, and
immediately to gall them with a tremendous volley of blank cartridge;
when, to our astonishment, on reaching the bank, they marched into the
water, and slap through it, without breaking step, or the time of the
tune they played an their bagpipes!--Our lieutenant-colonel, as may very
naturally be supposed, was totally unprepared for this; even though they
did not wear breeches, he could not have foreseen that they would have
marched above their knees in water, at a sham fight:--but he did not
lose his presence of mind; he immediately ordered the drums to beat,
the fifes to play, the colours to be waved, the whole corps to fire, and
every individual, officers and all, to increase the noise of the volley,
by a stout and hearty hurrah!--We had scarcely obeyed his orders, when
the ladies set up a shriek which shattered every man's nerves in the
ranks. We looked over our left shoulders at the sound, and, to our
infinite dismay and amazement, beheld a body of Highlanders at our
backs, advancing in double quick time, with bayonets fixed, to charge
us in rear! The lieutenant-colonel, perceiving the critical posture of
affairs, and ever alive to the welfare of the corps, ran round to
meet the enemy; and cried, with all his might, 'Halt! remnant of the
Highlanders! Halt! remnant of the Highlanders! Halt, I repeat!'--But the
savage rogues, who had marched round the hill unperceived by us, while
their comrades advanced in front, heeded the lieutenant-colonel as
little as if he had been an oyster-wench, and still came on at a dogtrot
pace; while the other fellows of the regiment, who had, by this time,
nearly reached the brow of the hill, did the like, with loud shouts and
fixed bayonets, as though it were a real, instead of a sham fight. At
last,--the lieutenant-colonel in the rear, and Major Arkfoot in
front, being actually within a few paces of their points--the
lieutenant-colonel, out of a most fatherly regard for those under his
command, thinking the matter began to be above a joke, and not knowing
to what extent the terrific enthusiasm of the Highlanders might carry
them, gave at once the word, and a most excellent example to all who
chose to follow it, for retreating. Thus, we were compelled, through
violence and a fraudulent _ruse-de-guerre_, which we were totally
unprepared to expect in a sham fight, to leave our ladies, legs of
mutton, turkeys, wine, hams, and other provisions, at the mercy of a
rude and breechless enemy! One or two of our fellows, who could not
get away, described to us, afterwards, the unseemly glee with which the
hungry, half-starved Highlanders, sat down to our rounds of beef, boiled
fowls, tongue, and other dainties and drinkables; and how soon these
things disappeared before them. But what really irked and annoyed us
more than the mishap and loss of our collation, was, that the ladies,
for months after, vaunted the gallantry and politeness of the Highland
officers, who,--confound them!--it seems, protested against the
amusements of the fair ones being interrupted by their appearance; and,
after devouring the lieutenant-colonel's cold collation, insisted, with
the most marked urbanity, on our wives and daughters continuing their
reels to the sound of the bagpipes, substituting themselves for the
flying grenadiers. We heard of nothing in the town, for ten months
after, but the gallant Highlanders and their handsome legs, and a dozen
other matters to which husbands and fathers have solid objections to
listen. Lieutenant and Alderman Squill had the ill-nature to say, that
he felt exceedingly happy that his wife had been taken so very unwell
that morning, as to be placed under the care of Surgeon Tamlen; and
those villains, the epigram writers, in the poet's corner of our country
paper, had the impudence to lampoon us, for leaving, as they said, our
Dalilas in the hands of the Philistines. But we bore our taunts with
manly fortitude; though, I must say, the fact is not yet forgotten in
the borough; and the young ladies grieve, who were not old enough to be
on the hill, with their mamas or sisters, when the gallant Highlanders,
as they call them, routed The Borough Buffs.
“We retreated in such disorder as circumstances rendered inevitable
for above a mile, when our wind failing us, we rallied. The line was no
sooner formed than somebody proposed that we should lunch; the motion
was carried unanimously, and down the men sat to devour the contents of
their knapsacks: the lieutenant-colonel, Major Arkfoot, and the rest
of the staff, advanced to the carriages where the ladies had left their
provisions, under the laudable pretence of reconnoitring;--for field
officers must eat, although they should seem to be above it, as well as
privates. We occasionally heaved a sigh for the poor things we had left
behind us, and determined to effect a rescue at all hazards; but none
of us indulged in such unmilitary sorrow as to blunt the edge of our
appetites, and we proceeded to lunch very satisfactorily. But another
misfortune, which no human foresight could prevent, occurred to the
corps while we were eating. We had very naturally concluded that the
Highlanders would have remained content with obtaining possession of the
post; or, at any rate, been retained by the attractions of the collation
and the ladies; we, therefore, felt quite easy. But, strange to say, the
fellows not only devoured our provisions, danced, drank, and sang, while
we were retreating, but actually came upon us again before we could
fully sacrifice to the cravings of nature. The lieutenant-colonel and
the whole of the staff were taken prisoners, and driven off, under an
escort of Highlanders, in solemn mockery, in the landaus and barouches,
to our ancient borough; and we, who were now without an efficient
leader, felt obliged to scamper--we scarcely knew where. We acted as a
hive of ants, when their haunt is suddenly invaded by a ruthless brood
of juvenile turkeys; each of us snatched up a gun, a knuckle of ham,
a knapsack, or a loaf, no matter to whom it belonged, so that each
individual was freighted for the general good, and away to go!--We
had not proceeded far before we were overtaken, and our progress was
arrested by the troops under the orders of the captain of the ferocious
aspect, blue facings, and terrific voice. No sooner had he ascertained
the situation of our affairs, than he assumed the command, and ordered
us to halt, in a tone and manner that nobody felt inclined to
disobey. The Highlanders, finding that they were not a match for us in
retreating, had, previously, relinquished the pursuit, in favour of a
regiment of cavalry, who came down upon us at full speed. The captain
of the ferocious aspect seeing this, immediately drew us off into a
field,--for we were now in an inclosed country,--and after commanding
his own men, the yeomanry, and the centre company of our corps, to
fly in the greatest apparent disorder, ordered us to draw up, with
a quick-set hedge and a deep and very dirty ditch between us and the
enemy. When the cavalry had reached within a few hundred yards of the
hedge which protected us, the captain with the huge voice said, in a
whisper which was heard from one end of the line to the other:--'The
Borough Buff Volunteers will all lie down in the ditch!' This order
spread consternation through the corps; but down we were obliged to
go--in the filthy, abominable puddle and mire, lying in close order
from one end of the ditch to the other, and fouling our regimentals in
a manner that made us, collectively and individually, grieve in the most
superlative degree. Anon, the cavalry came up,--little dreaming that we
were lying in the mire and puddle,--leaped the hedge and ditch, in line,
and scampered off after the fugitives. They had scarcely galloped a
hundred paces, when the captain with the ferocious aspect ordered us to
rise, form on the bank, and pour a volley, which we had kept in reserve,
into their rear. The centre company, the regulars, and yeomanry, no
sooner heard the report than, in pursuance of orders they had received,
they formed and faced about for attack.--We then charged the enemy, in
front and in rear at the same moment; and there being no outlet to the
field on the right or left, the cavalry were completely placed at a
nonplus; and had the business been a _bona fide_ engagement, their
position, as you must needs admit, would not have been altogether
exquisite.--This manouvre of the captain with the blue facings and
ferocious aspect retrieved the honour of the Borough Buffs; and we
returned home with drums beating, colours flying, and great eclat,
notwithstanding we had lost our field-officers, our ladies, our
provisions, and possession of the impregnable hill.”
[Illustration: 128]
THE BACHELOR'S DARLING.
On a fine summer's morning, a few years ago, two travellers were
observed by the turnpike-woman, approaching along the high road, towards
Bilberry Gate; both were on foot, and one of them led a very pretty
poney, laden with two or three half-filled sacks, and an assortment
of new and second-hand saucepans, ladles, and similar wares. As they
advanced, the turnpike-woman amused herself, by picking up such crumbs
of their discourse, as the distance between her and the interlocutors
would permit; and by putting what she thus gleaned together, Dame
Hetty discovered that they were strangers to each other;--the tinker's
companion having scraped acquaintance with that worthy only a few
minutes before, on the ground of their both being, apparently,
journeying in the same direction. The tinker, she thought, was about
thirty, or two-and-thirty years of age, at the utmost; he was a rough,
thick-set fellow, of a middling size, with a loud voice and swaggering
deportment His companion, Dame Hetty set down in her own mind as an
Irishman, by his brogue;--he was, most likely, she thought, a beggar or
a ballad-singer, or both, by his accoutrements; he had a wooden leg,
a patch over his right eye, and the left sleeve of his ragged military
jacket seemed to be empty. Hetty conjectured from these appearances that
he might be an old soldier; but thought it was more probable that he
had lost his limbs and eye by casualties not produced by war; and
had assumed regimentals, as a striking costume for a maimed beggar or
ballad-singer, although, perhaps, he had never smelt powder since he
fired off penny cannons in his urchinhood.
These ideas came into Dame Hetty's head, without any solicitation on her
part: she cared as little about the travellers as they did about her;
but she looked at them and thought about them merely for want of a
better subject, while she waited at the gate-side in expectation of the
tinker's toll. When the two men and the poney arrived within a few yards
of the turnpike, they turned suddenly to the right, and entered a
lane which led towards a village a few miles off. The poney's tail had
scarcely disappeared, when the dame entered the gate cottage, muttering
that this was the fourth time she had been disappointed, early as it
was in the day, by folks going down the lane instead of coming along
the high road. “But, odd!” said she; “I mustn't expect every horse that
comes in sight will pass the gate, when it's revel-day in the village.
If there were a bar, now, put across the lane, as hath long been talked
of, I should ha' caught the tinker's penny: but though he hath leave, my
husband never will do't, that's certain;--a stupid toad! if 'tweren't for
I, he wouldn't have a hole to put his head in; and much thanks I get!
Lord! if I were but a man!”
While Dame Hetty was soliloquizing to the foregoing effect, the tinker
and his companion proceeded at a quiet pace down the lane: the narrow
road had a verdant margin on each side, of considerable breadth; it
was broken into knolls in some parts, and here and there a hawthorn
flourished, or a bramble sheltered a family of tall weeds: the thorns
and briars bore evidence that sheep were occasionally permitted to
pasture in the lane; a horse, with a huge log chained to one of his hind
legs, to prevent him from roaming far, was quietly grazing on one side
of the road; and nearly opposite him, a pig, wearing a collar, as an
estoppel to his invading the fields, by creeping through their hedges,
lay dozing on the other, near an old dung-heap that was nearly covered
with “summer's green and flowery livery.”
The travellers had proceeded but a few paces down the lane, when they
observed a thin stream of smoke rising from behind a large bush,
which grew within a little distance of the right-hand hedge, and
they immediately turned their steps across the turf towards it. On
approaching nearer, they discovered a tall, lean man, in a plaid cloak,
actively engaged in raking together the embers of a fire, and placing
bits of dry wood upon a little blaze that shot up from its centre. “Is
this a gipsy's old place, I wonder?” said the Irishman; “and is
the pedlar, for so I take him to be, making it up to cook his
breakfast?--God save ye kindly!” continued he, as he came within hearing
of the man in the plaid coat.
“Whither awa', friend?” quoth the pedlar.
“Is it to the revel ye're budging, Sawney?”
“What would ye give to ken, Paddy?--And if I were ganging that gate,
why for no, eh?--Ye seem to be cattle for that market yoursel'; wi' your
bits o' ballads, and them scraps or fragments o' mortality ye've saved
fra' the wars. Ye're some broken-down beggar, I doubt Sauf us a'! isn't
it rare to see sic trash perk up to a travelling tradesman, and address
an honest and respactable person wi' a plain 'Sawney?'--a mon, though I
say it, whose bill for sax, ay, or aught pounds, in Bristol or Frome--”
“Aisy! aisy, man!” interrupted the other; “aisy, or we'll quarrel, I'm
sure;--and when I quarrel, I fight; and it isn't before breakfast I like
fighting:--everything's good in its season; so we won't fight now.
As for your bill, though, I'll make bold to say this,--so I will, any
how--as for your bill, I wouldn't give the worst ballad I have, for
the best bill you or the likes o' ye ever made:--but don't let's be
quarrelling, for all that.--Do you mark, though? if you cast any more
dirt upon my person or my goods, I'll indorse that bill of yours, that
sticks up betuxt your two eyes, in the place of a nose, with the fist
that's left me. I'll engage, if I put my hand to it, it won't add much
to its value, if you wished to raise money on it: but aisy, both of us;
quarrelling does no good.”
“Come, come,--I like thee for that, comrade,” said the third traveller;
“now that's nature;--so shake hands, both of'ee, lads.”
“Oh! wid all my heart!” said the Irishman; “Darby Doherty isn't the boy
to bear malice: but when a big fellow, with all his legs and things
o' that kind left, tells me about my fragments, it puts me up--do you
see?--puts me up, sir:--though I'm not one for quarrelling, yet I'd like
to have a pelt at him; but it's before breakfast--Why should he notice
my legs? It's true then, sure enough, I've only one arm, one leg, one
wife and a child;---just a thing of a sort:--but suppose it's my fancy
to be so; why should he throw it out at me?--wid his dirty pack--his
case of trumpery there!--May be I like number one; why shouldn't I?--Now
if I was given to quarrelling, here's an excuse, isn't there? But I'm
not.--How does he know, tinker--for a tinker I take you to be”--
Here the tinker bowed, and again requested Mister Doherty to shake hands
with the North Briton. By his endeavours, in a few moments, peace was
restored; the Irishman seemed to have forgotten what had passed, but the
Scotchman sat rather sullenly by the side of the fire, which blazed away
very pleasantly. The important subject of breakfast was soon broached,
and Doherty made a proposal to club the contents of their wallets. The
tinker had a loaf of black, dry, barley-bread, and a triangular morsel
of cheese, which, Doherty said, was fit food for cannibals, who wore
hatchets in their mouths instead of teeth. The pedlar drew forth a
tin can, containing a small quantity of meal. The Irishman had nothing
eatable, but, as he assured his companions, an appetite that would make
up for the deficiency. “I never carry any food outside my skin,” said
he; “when I've a trifle of money to spare, I invariably invest it in
whiskey. I've just nine-pen'orth in my bottle here now; or may be more,
for it wasn't empty when I made the last purchase; and I'd share it
most generously wid ye, if ye'd anything aqual in value to offer me in
return:--but you, tinker, have nothing but black bread, and a little
yellow bit of granite, you call cheese--”
“Nothing,--that's it,” replied the tinker; “except a feed for the poney.
He! he! mayhap you'll eat a oat?”
“Oh! go to Otaheite,--where Captain Cook couldn't dress his dinner. Do
you take me for Cæsar, or any similar savage?--And you, Mr. Pedlar,
have nought in your wallet but dry meal, to make cold stirabout, or a
roley-poley bolus, worked up wid water, in the hollow of your hand.”
“Didna I tell ye so?” said the pedlar; “and a wee bit it is, as ye may
see.”
“And you've nothing in the wide world else?”
“Nought that ye can eat.”
“Then ould Ireland for ever! I'm a made man!--If you've nothing eatable
but meal, these red herrings are mine: I just picked them up from the
grass where your pack stood, a while ago, when you were dipping into it
for the meal-can. They can't be yours, you'll own!”
“I tell ye they are, though,” cried the pedlar, advancing towards
Doherty; “and what's mair--”
“Aisy, aisy, again, or else we'll quarrel,” said Doherty, pushing him
gently aside; “I'll abide by what the tinker says.”
“He's an intarasted party,” replied the pedlar; “and I'll no constitute
him arbitrator.”
“Well, well, then,--I'll tell you what we'll do;--don't let's
quarrel;--to settle everything amicably, I'll trate you to a herring
a-piece.--You won't? Did you ever see the likes of him?--I'm sure we'll
quarrel: I'm sure we'll have a fight at last; though I wouldn't for
five farthings,--and that's money you'll own;--but Jove himself couldn't
stand this.”
“The ballad-singer speaks fair, in my mind, pedlar,” quoth the tinker.
“Hech! now, nane o' your havers! I'm no sic a puir daft body as to be
gulled o' my guids, by birds o' your feather; rad harrings dinna swim
into a mon's wallet, wi' whistling; you must bait your fingers wi'
siller to catch them in these pairts,--and groats dinna grow upon bushes
noo-a-days.”
“Well, that's true enough,” said the tinker; “give him his fishes, and
we'll buy one a-piece of him.”
“Let's know what he'll take, though, before we part wi' them,” said the
Irishman; “may be we'd quarrel about the price after.”
“Right,--very right,” replied the tinker.
“Sirs,” quoth the pedlar, “business is bad; the girls dinna pairt with
their hair noo, as they used, for a bauble or so,--a mon must hae
guid guids for them. I'd be free, and invite ye to share wi' me,--but
prudence wouldna tolerate it in ane like me, that has eleven bairns.”
“Now that's what I call nature!” exclaimed the tinker with considerable
emphasis.
“An arithmetical excuse for being stingy,” quoth Doherty; “Eleven
children! and I've one at home,--which is a bag at his mother's
back,--that would eat as much as any seven of them. I'd another, once,
but the blackguard gipsies coaxed her away from the side of us, when
we was singing, 'Rogues around you,' at Weyhill. They did it by
ginger-bread, or something like it, I think;--bad luck to them!”
“Ay! ay! just as the pigeon people do decoy other folks' young birds
by hemp-seed and salt-cats. Oh! it's natura.--Why, now, there's a chap,
whose sweepings I ha' bought lately.”
“Whose what?” inquired Doherty.
“The sweepings of his loft,” replied the tinker; “he's a pigeon-keeper,
and I'm a collector.”
“Oh! a sort of scavenger to the birds?”