When first I met thee, warm and young,
There shone such truth about thee,
And on thy lip such promise hung,
I did not dare to doubt thee.
I saw thee change, yet still relied,
Still clung with hope the fonder,
And thought, though false to all beside,
From me thou couldst not wander.
But go, deceiver! go;
The heart whose hopes could make it
Trust one so false, so low,
Deserves that thou shouldst break it.
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I was fortunate, I have already said, in having the sergeant rough-rider
(a superior man to the corporal in every shape) for my instructor
generally during my "griffinage."
"Well, youngster," he would say, "suppose you give me your serious
attention through this drill." He fully and most patiently detailed his
instructions in such a manner that I could properly understand both what
he said and what he meant.
"I know," said he, "that it is a very difficult matter for you to
_practise_ the instructions I am giving you. Yet, by perseverance, and,
above all, a determination to overcome every difficulty, you, like the
rest of us, will ultimately succeed, and, I hope, become a very smart
and well-conducted hussar."
I did persevere, and felt proud to do my best for such a man. My nerves
were stronger, and my ideas more collected, than when subjected to the
abuse of the corporal; the result being that the sergeant frequently
applauded me. I soon became the leader of the "gulpin's" ride, a post
always allotted to the most intelligent recruit.
Having passed through the ordeal of riding without saddle, as also in a
saddle without stirrups, I was allowed to ride with a sword. By this
time I had learnt the sword and carbine exercise on foot--had, in fact,
gone through my "facings," and been drilled to marching, etc, for two
hours every day in the barrack-yard, under the immediate instruction and
supervision of the "drill corporal," "drill sergeant," "regimental
sergeant-major," and "adjutant." At length, being considered quite
perfect as a rider in the saddle, I commenced my drills with the sword
and carbine on horseback, loading and firing the latter at a fast
canter, "attack and defence," "pursuing practice," etc, with the sabre;
finally being put through all the difficult manoeuvres of the "double
ride," and the high school of equitation, leaping lessons, etc, until I
was considered fit to rank as a soldier, and do my duty as such.
Eight months had now elapsed since my enlistment, and I was much more
reconciled to my soldier's life; and now that I was a full-fledged
hussar, I began to grow conceited. My appearance had undergone a
complete change for the better: I could both _ride_ and _walk_, and no
mistake.
My moustache was beginning to bud, and the short down was carefully dyed
by the aid of an old toothbrush and a small square of india-ink,
presented to me by a _sweetheart_. Every soldier must have a
sweetheart: mine was old enough to be my mother, but I did not care,
because I had now dropped all my country diffidence, and grown "cheeky,"
as my comrades designated my impudence. She courted _me_, and
frequently came to barracks for the purpose of inviting me to her house,
where she carried on a very respectable business as a milliner and
dressmaker. Strange fancy, perhaps, but she professed to be _very_ fond
of soldiers: she confessed to having had _three_ or _four_ soldier
sweethearts. I met her in the pit of the theatre, in company with
another _milliner_, to whom one of my comrades, who was with me, had
been paying more than ordinary attention. I may as well confess that I
did not care a rap for my girl ("Old Dorcas" my comrades used to call
her, when chaffing me); but she was very kind to me at times. In fact,
her house was my home on all occasions when I could be spared from my
active duties. Every Sunday, Denis Mulroony (my comrade) and I took
tea, and sometimes supper, with his Nelly and my Dorcas. We always had
rum in our teas, plenty of ale to our suppers, and more rum _after_
supper. At last the time came for us to part. Having learnt that my
father was a well-to-do farmer, and that I had fairish expectations,
"Old Dorcas" conceived the idea of purchasing my discharge, and offered
to lodge the money (30 pounds) at once, if I would "marry her _first_."
Bah! I never thought of _marrying_--not I; indeed, I had never given
her any cause to harbour such an unnatural design upon me--a mere boy.
I was not partial to soldiering, and glad as I would have been for my
discharge, I sickened at the idea of selling myself. Only fancy my
going home again, with a woman fastened to me!--what would my father
say? I shuddered as I thought of the heavy pig-whip, of which I had
more than a slight acquaintance.
I had been led into this dilemma by Denis Mulroony, who was eight years
my senior.
"Denny," said I, after parting with the two women at the barrack-gate,
one night at watch-setting, "what shall I say to `Old Dorcas,' when I go
again?"
"Arrah, now, don't be talking, you great mahoney. Can't you get the
money first, and marry her when it is _more convanient_? Shure she'll
give it you, no fear; and if she'll not part wid the whole, no doubt
she'll be after giving you the half of it."
We were at that time under orders to march; in fact, the route had come
for a change of quarters, and I had promised to see her again on the
following night, when, as good luck would have it, Denny was on guard,
and therefore could not go with me. I went, saw, and told her that I
was too young to marry, and that I must decline her generous offer to
purchase my freedom. This she took all in good part, and I left her.
When Denny came off duty I told him all.
"Faix, thin," said he, "I wonder would she marry me? Throth I'll go and
thry her this very night."
"What'll you do with Nelly, for she is sure to be there expecting you,
it being the last night we have to stay here?" cried I.
"Shure I'll send Andy Ryan down to tell Old Dorcas that you want to
spake to her onest more before you lave her for ever."
Andy Ryan was a fine, handsome man as ever stepped. He had been twelve
years a soldier, and was near upon thirty years of age. Denny opened
his mind and told him all the particulars, whereupon Andy started on his
mission directly the trumpet had sounded the "dismiss from stables."
That was the last either I or Denny ever saw of Andy. He deserted, and
most probably went abroad with or without "Old Dorcas."