PIPECLAY.--I thought so. The detail of his grievances, and a
lamentation over modern degeneracy, are generally the prelude to a
nap; fine old fellow, if he wasn't so sadly bigoted.
O'SHEEVO.--Yes, but when means are scarce, men are driven into
extremes; we sometimes overrate our capacities; if our friend here
were to be put into a colonel of infantry's shoes to-morrow, he'd not
find his position a bed of roses.
LOVELL.--I wish he'd gone on about the coast defences, that's what I
wanted to hear.
O'SHEEVO.--Sure, that's very ungrateful of you, when we've all been
talking for your edification.
PIPECLAY.--Patience, Lovell, patience; you can't learn all the art of
war in a minute; follow the thing up, and you'll know all about it
by-and-by. A death vacancy'll be giving me my step, some of these
days, and I should like to throw my mantle over you, I confess.
O'SHEEVO.--D'ye, mean that seedy old cloak that you've used these last
fifteen years? if any one was to throw such a thing over me, I should
consider it a personal affront.
PIPECLAY.--You're so literal, Major.
O'SHEEVO.--Ye're wrong there; I never composed any thing in my life,
more to be blushed for than punch or sangree, and there's nothing
literal in them except their being liquids.
PIPECLAY.--But I meant if Lovell could be eligible to succeed me in
the adjutancy.
O'SHEEVO.--Oh! Lovell'll do very well by-and-by; those duties of yours
are a little unpalatable at first; but by working at them they become
easier, and an effort beyond that will make you do them quite
involuntarily.
PIPECLAY.--There's encouragement for you, Lovell; the Major thinks
you'll do, and I've great hopes of you myself.
LOVELL.--You're very good, I'm sure. Military discussions interest me
much; I'm only anxious to hear you go on.
PIPECLAY.--It's getting late now; another time we'll resume the
subject.
O'SHEEVO.--Yes, in a day or two. It's very good to rub up a little
military stuff occasionally, but it is bad taste to be always talking
shop. We've had a good dose for to-night, and to-morrow we must have a
little light, easy conversation. Touch Oldham's arm, will you,
Pipeclay, and let's jog. (_Pipeclay shakes Oldham._)
OLDHAM.--Damned forward young humbugs! what the devil do they know
about it? eh? what, going to mizzle?
O'SHEEVO.--Yes, the jug's empty, and I'm telling Lovell he must come
again, and he'll like it better, and we'll make a soldier of him at
last.
OLDHAM.--Ah! I'm afraid you'll do no good with any of them nowadays;
he should have been in the 107th. Well, good-night, Lovell; we'll do
what we can.
O'SHEEVO--PIPECLAY.--Good-night, Lovell; sleep upon it.
(_Exeunt Pipeclay, O'Sheevo, and Oldham. Lovell remains to light a
cigar._)
LOVELL.--Good-night. Well, I don't know but I might have spent the
evening just as profitably if I'd gone to Jones's room, as he asked
me. These old fellows are devilish close. However, patience, as the
adjutant says. (_Exit._)