"Come, come, Fred, no more quizzing on that score. It's the only thing ever gives me a distaste to the service,--the souvenir of that adventure. When I reflect what I might have been, and think what I am; when I contrast a Brussels carpet with wet gra.s.s, silk hangings with a canvas tent, Sneyd's claret with ration brandy, and Sir Arthur for a Commander-in-Chief _vice_ Boggs, a widow--"

"Stop there!" cried Hixley. "Without disparaging the fair widow, there's nothing beats campaigning, after all. Eh, Fred?"

"And to prove it," said the colonel, "Power will sing us a song."

Power took his pencil from his pocket, and placing the back of a letter across his shako, commenced inditing his lyric, saying, as he did so, "I'm your man in five minutes. Just fill my gla.s.s in the mean time."

"That fellow beats Dibdin hollow," whispered the adjutant. "I'll be hanged if he'll not knock you off a song like lightning."

"I understand," said Hixley, "they have some intention at the Horse Guards of having all the general orders set to popular tunes, and sung at every mess in the service. You've heard that, I suppose, Sparks?"

"I confess I had not before."

"It will certainly come very hard upon the subalterns," continued Hixley, with much gravity. "They'll have to brush up their _sol mi fas_. All the solos are to be their part."

"What rhymes with slaughter?" said Power.

"Brandy-and-water," said the adjutant.

"Now, then," said Power, "are you all ready?"

"Ready."

"You must chorus, mind; and mark me, take care you give the hip-hip-hurra well, as that's the whole force of the chant. Take the time from me. Now for it. Air, 'Garryowen,' with spirit, but not too quick.

"Now that we've pledged each eye of blue, And every maiden fair and true, And our green island home,--to you The ocean's wave adorning, Let's give one Hip-hip-hip-hurra!

And, drink e'en to the coming day, When, squadron square, We'll all be there, To meet the French in the morning.

"May his bright laurels never fade, Who leads our fighting fifth brigade, Those lads so true in heart and blade, And famed for danger scorning.

So join me in one Hip-hurra!

And drink e'en to the coming day, When, squadron square, We'll all be there, To meet the French in the morning.

"And when with years and honors crowned, You sit some homeward hearth around, And hear no more the stirring sound That spoke the trumpet's warning, You'll fill and drink, one Hip-hurra!

And pledge the memory of the day, When, squadron square, They all were there, To meet the French in the morning."

"Gloriously done, Fred!" cried Hixley. "If I ever get my deserts in this world, I'll make you Laureate to the Forces, with a hogshead of your own native whiskey for every victory of the army."

"A devilish good chant," said Merivale, "but the air surpa.s.ses anything I ever heard,--thoroughly Irish, I take it."

"Irish! upon my conscience, I believe you!" shouted O'Shaughnessy, with an energy of voice and manner that created a hearty laugh on all sides. "It's few people ever mistook it for a Venetian melody. Hand over the punch,--the sherry, I mean. When I was in the Clare militia, we always went in to dinner to 'Tatter Jack Walsh,' a sweet air, and had 'Garryowen' for a quick-step. Ould M'Ma.n.u.s, when he got the regiment, wanted to change: he said, they were d.a.m.ned vulgar tunes, and wanted to have 'Rule Britannia,'

or the 'Hundredth Psalm;' but we would not stand it; there would have been a mutiny in the corps."

"The same fellow, wasn't he, that you told the story of, the other evening, in Lisbon?" said I.

"The same. Well, what a character he was! As pompous and conceited a little fellow as ever you met with; and then, he was so bullied by his wife, he always came down to revenge it on the regiment. She was a fine, showy, vulgar woman, with a most cherishing affection for all the good things in this life, except her husband, whom she certainly held in due contempt. 'Ye little crayture,' she'd say to him with a sneer, 'it ill becomes you to drink and sing, and be making a man of yourself. If you were like O'Shaughnessy there, six foot three in his stockings--'Well, well, it looks like boasting; but no matter. Here's her health, anyway."

"I knew you were tender in that quarter," said Power, "I heard it when quartered in Limerick."

"May be you heard, too, how I paid off Mac, when he came down on a visit to that county?"

"Never: let's hear it now."

"Ay, O'Shaughnessy, now's your time; the fire's a good one, the night fine, and liquor plenty."

"I'm _convanient_," said O'Shaughnessy, as depositing his enormous legs on each side of the burning f.a.gots, and placing a bottle between his knees he began his story:--

"It was a cold rainy night in January, in the year '98, I took my place in the Limerick mail, to go down for a few days to the west country. As the waiter of the Hibernian came to the door with a lantern, I just caught a glimpse of the other insides; none of whom were known to me, except Colonel M'Ma.n.u.s, that I met once in a boarding-house in Molcsworth Street. I did not, at the time, think him a very agreeable companion; but when morning broke, and we began to pay our respects to each other in the coach, I leaned over, and said, 'I hope you're well, Colonel M'Ma.n.u.s,' just by way of civility like. He didn't hear me at first; so that I said it again, a little louder.

"I wish you saw the look he gave me; he drew himself up to the height of his cotton umbrella, put his chin inside his cravat, pursed up his dry, shrivelled lips, and with a voice he meant to be awful, replied:--

"'You appear to have the advantage of me.'

"'Upon my conscience, you're right,' said I, looking down at myself, and then over at him, at which the other travellers burst out a laughing,--'I think there's few will dispute that point.' When the laugh was over, I resumed,--for I was determined not to let him off so easily. 'Sure I met you at Mrs. Cayle's,' said I; 'and, by the same token, it was a Friday, I remember it well,--may be you didn't pitch into the salt cod? I hope it didn't disagree with you?'

"'I beg to repeat, sir, that you are under a mistake,' said he.

"'May be so, indeed,' said I. 'May be you're not Colonel M'Ma.n.u.s at all; may be you wasn't in a pa.s.sion for losing seven-and-sixpence at loo with Mrs. Moriarty; may be you didn't break the lamp in the hall with your umbrella, pretending you touched it with your head, and wasn't within three foot of it; may be Counsellor Brady wasn't going to put you in the box of the Foundling Hospital, if you wouldn't behave quietly in the streets--'

"Well, with this the others laughed so heartily, that I could not go on; and the next stage the bold colonel got outside with the guard and never came in till we reached Limerick. I'll never forget his face, as he got down at Swinburne's Hotel. 'Good-by, Colonel,' said I; but he wouldn't take the least notice of my politeness, but with a frown of utter defiance, he turned on his heel and walked away.

"'I haven't done with you yet,' says I; and, faith, I kept my word.

"I hadn't gone ten yards down the street, when I met my old friend Darby O'Grady.

"'Shaugh, my boy,' says he,--he called me that way for shortness,--'dine with me to-day at Mosey's; a green goose and gooseberries; six to a minute.'

"'Who have you?' says I.

"'Tom Keane and the Wallers, a counsellor or two, and one M'Ma.n.u.s, from Dublin.'

"'The colonel?'

"'The same,' said he.

"'I'm there, Darby!' said I; 'but mind, you never saw me before.'

"'What?' said he.

"'You never set eyes on me before; mind that.'

"'I understand,' said Darby, with a wink; and we parted.

"I certainly was never very particular about dressing for dinner, but on this day I spent a considerable time at my toilet; and when I looked in my gla.s.s at its completion, was well satisfied that I had done myself justice.

A waistcoat of brown rabbit-skin with flaps, a red worsted comforter round my neck, an old gray shooting-jacket with a brown patch on the arm, corduroys, and leather gaiters, with a tremendous oak cudgel in my hand, made me a most presentable figure for a dinner party.

"'Will I do, Darby?' says I, as he came into my room before dinner.

"'If it's for robbing the mail you are,' says he, 'nothing could be better.