Camp Fire Yarns of the Lost Legion Part 17

A CONVERSION THAT FAILED

It has always been a source of wonder to me why so many people change their religion, for, although I have never had the time, opportunity, or perhaps the inclination, to study theology in any part of its ramifications, and have never even read the Thirty-Nine Articles which caused the fancy religionists not only to desert their Church, but has now enabled them, through their co-operation with rebels, atheists, socialists and a gang of men who, so long as they can hang on to power, are ready to play any dishonourable game, to gratify their rancorous spite in looting the said Church, my astonishment still remains. Yet very many people of all cla.s.ses are frequently chucking up the faith of their fathers and joining another. No doubt some of these are actuated by sincere religious convictions, but I think the majority of them are prompted by the desire in some way to better themselves in this life. For instance, to remove an obstacle that prevents them from making an advantageous marriage, to succeed to property, to advance themselves in society or to make money. Still, there are plenty of people who swap their fire insurance policy for other motives, not even so respectable as the few I have enumerated, and one sinner told me that, having been a very bad hat during early manhood, he had joined the R.C. Church as he had been a.s.sured that by doing so he had cleaned his slate of the acc.u.mulation of his past sins and had thereby choused Old Nick. This may or may not have been the case, but anyhow he was very ready to contract fresh obligations with the Old Gentleman, as before we parted he managed to swindle me out of a fiver; so that after mature consideration I came to the conclusion that he was not a brand that was likely to be s.n.a.t.c.hed from the burning, thanks to his change of religion, but was still a very bad hat indeed.

Now anyone can understand, although he may not admire, a man who, prompted by greed, love or interest, changes his mode of wors.h.i.+p. But the man who I am going to yarn to you about was not an individual of this cla.s.s, and, moreover, although he was most charitably disposed, and always ready to plank down a cheque for any good purpose, yet as a rule he did not pan out on religious matters at all, and knew as much about dogma as a chimpanzee does about s...o...b..lling. But let me start the yarn from the beginning.

During the latter eighties, when I was adjutant of the D.F.H., and was located at De Toits Pan, there lived on the same diamond diggings a man who carried on the trade of baker, and whom I shall designate by his Boer name of Davy. Now Davy had begun life as a s.h.i.+p's baker, and having followed the sea for many years had drifted up to the diamond fields in the early times, had started in at his trade and had prospered exceedingly, so that when I knew him he was a rich man, and justly very popular with the diggers. In person he was of medium height, thick-set, with great rounded shoulders, on which was stuck, for he had not much neck to boast of, a huge round head that, owing perhaps to the effects of early piety, was as devoid of hair as a Little Englander is of patriotism. As regards manners, he was rather brusque, and until he came to know you was a bit repellent, and was totally uneducated. But he was a white man right through, and many a score of women and children would have had to go hungry to roost, during hard times, had good old Davy cut off supplying bread, although the betting might be decidedly against his ever pouching a single ticky (threepenny piece) of their money. Now, this old worthy, who as a rule never attended any Gospel Mill, and was as devoid of theologic controversy as one of his loaves of bread, nevertheless, whenever he indulged in an occasional burst always developed the idiosyncrasy that he must change his religion, and would promptly set to work to do so.

What faith he had been brought up in originally (if any) I know not, and I doubt if he knew himself, but he tried all there were on the diamond fields (and owing to the polyglot crowd located on the diggings there were many), with the exception of the Hebrew, from which ancient cult Davy s.h.i.+ed, as he always affirmed there was an obstacle in the way, which required to be removed before he could become a proselyte in the Synagogue.

Well, one fine day shortly after Davy had exhausted the last available religion, De Toits Pan was invaded by a commercial traveller in a brand-new fancy faith, the name of which I forget, but it was one freshly imported from America, and was guaranteed to be something quite new, slick and up-to-date. In fact, its votaries might reckon on a first-cla.s.s ticket up to heaven, without any detention at the custom-house, while, provided they subscribed liberally, they might even expect to be transmitted there in a private fiery balloon. Now I never knew the ritual of the band of brothers, as they called themselves, but I knew it was necessary for a recruit, upon his initiation, to be soused over head and ears in water, which was meant to typify that all past sins would be washed away, although I guess it would have taken more than one ducking in cold water to have made an impression on the case-hardened iniquities of some of the converts who joined the movement. Yes, by gad! it would have required scalding water, soft soap, soda, and a wire scrubbing-brush to have s.h.i.+fted their moral delinquencies. Still, if the tubbing did not purify their immortal souls, it had a salutary effect on their hides, so we can pa.s.s that part of the performance as O.K.

Now, this missionary, spiritual bagman, or call him what you like, was at the first go-off of his raid very successful, doing a great business and roping in very many proselytes, so many, in fact it made the sky-pilots in the older established firms buck up, and look askance. He laboured, however, under one very great disadvantage--viz.

there was no building in De Toits Pan procurable, large enough to contain the necessary water tank, so that until one could be built the numerous recruits had to be taken on the Sunday to the Modder River, and be ducked therein. Well, just as the new movement was in the hey-day of its popularity, good old Davy went on one of his rare jamborees, and, _faute de mieux_, at once fell into line, signed on as a brother, and on the following day (Sunday) went to the Modder River with a number of other neophytes, male and female, to undergo their preliminary water cure. Now it chanced that, on the same Sunday evening, I happened to be chatting in the De Toits Pan club, when all of a sudden in dashed Davy in a great state of perturbation. Rus.h.i.+ng up to the bar he demanded a double-headed whisky straight, which he swallowed like an oyster, then promptly held out his gla.s.s for another supply.

"Hullo, Davy," quoth one of those present, "you seem to be gulping down the cratur with unction. I thought you would have been nursing your new religious doctrines at this time of night."

Davy answered him not, but with a growl ordered the barman to refill his gla.s.s.

"Why, Davy, what's the matter?" queried another. "What have they been doing to you to capsize you in this fas.h.i.+on, and why don't you take water with your pongello?"

"Water, indeed," snarled Davy. "I sha'n't want no water for another month." And he made a motion to the barman to pa.s.s the bottle.

"Here, ease up, Davy," said I. "You've had enough. Leave the whisky alone, and come over here. Sit down and tell us how you got on this afternoon at the was.h.i.+ng fete."

"Whoi," grumbled the old fellow, whom, it seemed, the third n.o.bbler had somewhat pacified, as he took the offered chair and proceeded to light his pipe, "I didn't get on at all, and this new-fangled religion ain't worth a cuss. 'Tain't one as any man with any common-sense 'ud cotton to, and as for the sky-pilot, he's jist as hignorant as a howl."

"Well, well, tell us all about it. Did you imbibe the faith?"

"Faith, be d----d!" he growled. "I didn't imbibe nothing except a gallon or two of Modder River water." And he expectorated with disgust. However, after he had been smoothed down a bit, and had had another tot, he bucked up and related his tribulations as follows:--

"You see, boys," said he, "I went down to the Modder River this afternoon, with a large party of other converts. The shepherd, as 'e calls his blooming self, 'e comes along too, and brings two or three of the sharps as 'elps 'im. Well, when we got there we finds a couple of tents pitched: one for the ladies, and one for us men, to take off our duds in. Well, after a bit, one of the sharps, he comes to me, and sez he: 'Brother, we's going to commence along with you.' So 'e shows me into the tent, and sez he: 'Brother, remove your gaudy 'abiliments and put on this 'ere garb of simplicity.' And with that 'e 'ands me a sort of a nightgown which came to about me knees. As soon as I was togged out, feelin' a bit ashamed of meself rigged out like that, he leads me down to the river bank and there was the shepherd, as 'e calls hisself, long, thin, herring-gutted devil, standing up to his middle in the water. 'Enter, brother,' he sings out to me, 'and 'ave your manifold sins swabbed away.' I wades in and whin I reaches 'im the water took me up to the chin. He begins his palaver, and before I knowed where I was 'e puts his two hands on me shoulders and ducks me bloomin 'ead under. He fair took me by surprise 'e did, or I'd 'ave took an extra breath of air. As it was, I lost me footin', and 'ad to struggle to come up. Me old skull-cap comes off and I got me 'ead above water, but no sooner did 'e see me old bald pate appear than he shoved it down agin, and kep' on a-doing so until I was near drownded.

Should 'ave bin, I believe, 'ad I not managed to giv' 'im a punch in the bread-basket which shut 'im hup like a pair of scissors, and then I scrambles out and runs to the tent nigh water-logged. Presently along 'e comes, and sez 'e to me, sez 'e: 'Brother, wherefore did you a.s.sault me while in the water?' And I sez to 'im: 'You ain't no brother of mine. What for did yer try to drown me?' 'Brother,' sez 'e, 'I knew not you was so bald, and when yer 'ead appeared above the surface of the river I laboured under the delusion it was another portion of yer hanatomy, and so as to prevent what might 'ave become an indecent hexhibition I pressed it hunder agin and continued to do so.' 'Well,' sez I, 'yer religion may be a darned foine one, and yer may be a darned foine shepherd, but whin yer don't know the difference between a conwert's bows and 'is starnpost 'tain't no religion for me, and I 'ud scorn to belong to it or own yer as a brother or shepherd, so ye and yer 'ole gang can go to h----.' And with that I left 'im and came 'ome as fast as I could git."

Now although I think that on this one occasion old Davy's plea, like himself, was a good un, and that he, under the aforementioned circ.u.mstances, was fully justified in doubting the _bona fides_ of this fancy religion through the lack of ac.u.men and also the gross ignorance on the part of the shepherd, still, as one swallow does not make a summer, this one legitimate case of perversion does not, in my eyes, justify the large number of people who chop or change their faith and are always thronging to hear some half-crazy tub-thumper, be he a long-haired, red-nosed revivalist, unctuous Mormon or any other hypocritical expounder of a new cult.

CHAPTER IV

JACK ASh.o.r.e IN 1871

Yes, I've had the honour and pleasure of serving in the same outfit as H.M. bluejackets, and I will maintain that the British sailor is second to none either as a fighting man or love-maker, the only man, in my unbia.s.sed opinion, to equal him in the above pursuits being the Irish soldier. Now Jack and Pat both keenly appreciate a bit of fun and devilment, but I think, in pursuit of divarsion, Jack must be a.s.signed the cake, as during his hours of relaxation, while at liberty, on sh.o.r.e, he frequently displays a bit of originality in his pranks that, in fairness I must confess, land him ahead of my dear, reckless, light-hearted countrymen. During the New Zealand wars the Maoris called the Naval Brigade Te Ngati Jacks, and they insisted that they belonged to a different people from the remainder of H.M. forces; for you never could convince the old-time Maori warrior that the loose-clad, rollicking, gallant sailor was of the same blood as the tight-b.u.t.toned-up, stiff and more stolid, though equally brave, soldier. This erroneous idea was, I think, also in a great measure due to the fantastic capers Jack cut while enjoying his well-earned liberty on sh.o.r.e, during which treasured moments he strove to cram into twenty-four hours all the fun, and also as many of the minor vices, as he could manage to indulge in, and I am only doing him justice when I state he usually succeeded in partic.i.p.ating in as much devilment during those few hours as would satisfy an ordinary healthy Tommy for a year.

Times, customs and manners have greatly altered since 1870, and although there can be no doubt that, changed as in many respects our fleet men are from the sailors of the past generation, still the same courage and devotion exists in our present-day, highly trained, splendid naval seamen as ever instigated the grand old hearts of oak, who boxed yards about, pulled on bits of string called halyards, braces, etc.; and, totally ignorant of electricity, cursed steam.

Moreover, there has been a great change for the better in the conduct and sobriety of our ever-popular and much-loved bluejackets when ash.o.r.e on short leave.

Settlers, old ident.i.ties, in colonial seaport towns, will, I am sure, endorse what I have written above, for although during the forty years I lived in the colonies I never heard of one of H.M. bluejackets committing a crime, still some of their sprees were rather alarming to nervous people, while they shocked the puritanical, hypocritical humbugs, of whom there is always a superfluity wherever the Union Jack flies. For these cattle, being able to indulge in their pet vices _sub rosa_, or else being too narrowminded to make allowance for the festive pranks of high-spirited men, let loose for a few short hours after being cooped up on board s.h.i.+p for months at a stretch, where they have been subjected to the most severe discipline in the world, hold up hands in horror at poor Jack's frolics, and call the brave fellow, whose mess tins they are not worthy to swab out, a drunken, profligate sailor-man, unfit to be at large in this world, and sure to be d.a.m.ned in the next. Yet many of Jack's sprees were most diverting to the looker-on, as he would frequently introduce into his frolics some originality that, simple in itself, and most probably quite unpremeditated, still compelled anyone with the smallest spark of humour in his composition to thoroughly appreciate. I am now going to spin you a yarn about one bluejacket's spree that, if it does not amuse you, at all events afforded myself and some of my comrades, just down from the frontier, a hearty laugh. The scene was Wellington, New Zealand, the date somewhere about the end of 1871, when, the long war having burnt itself out, and the sharp fighting having smouldered itself away to the ordinary frontier defence work, myself and a few of my comrades had, for the first time for nearly six years, the chance of returning for a period to civilisation and enjoying such comforts and luxuries as were at that time to be obtained in the capital of New Zealand. This we were doing with a relish only to be enjoyed by men who have for years been living, or rather enduring, a hard bush life, utterly debarred from the ordinary pleasures of society, and the refinement of ladies' companions.h.i.+p.

We were doing ourselves well, and going very strong, when the fun was enhanced by the arrival of a squadron of H.M. s.h.i.+ps, with whose officers we fraternised, notwithstanding the fact that they ran us very close, if they did not quite cut us out, in the favour of the fair New Zealand ladies, for both officers and men of H.M. Royal Navy are as hard to contend against in the rosy lists of love as they are to beat in the ruddy game of war. No matter if there may have been a trifle of jealousy between us in those days it did not matter a row of pins, and we all enjoyed rattling good times. But hold hard, I am off the trail of my yarn, and so must try back. Well, the squadron anch.o.r.ed, squared yards, and, after the s.h.i.+ps had been put into apple-pie order, in due course of time, leave was given to the crews, and the starboard watches came ash.o.r.e to enjoy themselves for twenty-four hours. This they did; and my word they made the town of Wellington lively, opening the eyes and elevating the hands of the unco guid in a way that, to such lost sinners as ourselves, was most exhilarating. In those days, I know not if such be the case now, every sailor had the fixed conviction that he was a perfect master of equitation, and no sooner did he get ash.o.r.e than he yearned to ride a horse, or, failing to obtain one, a mule, a donkey, a cow or even a goat came not amiss. Some four-footed beast must be obtained by hook or by crook, or, if saddle animals were quite un.o.btainable, then he must drive or be driven. Well, the starbowlins came ash.o.r.e and painted the town a vivid red, and the streets soon became full of bluejackets, mounted on every description of animal, some of the poor beasts having to carry double, while now and again you would see some cart-horse, very long in the back, ridden by three laughing, shouting sailors, the whole of the cavalcades galloping and sidling up and down the main roads cheered to the echo by their admiring messmates, while the riders, with their bell-bottomed slacks rucked up above the knees, their elbows square with their ears, and a rein, or as Jack termed it a yoke-line, in either hand, held on like grim death to a dead n.i.g.g.e.r.

Yet numerous were the falls and collisions that took place, and it appeared to be fully understood that, should a rider be pipped, his loose horse and empty saddle should be the lawful prize of the lucky s.h.i.+pmate who first captured them, and sometimes you could see half-a-dozen or more Jacks trying to board the said prize from both sides and ends of the unfortunate quadruped at one and the same time.

Many of the horses could and did buck a bit, but this did not seem to daunt Jack one iota; in fact, buck-jumping appeared to rather enhance the value of the mount, and I saw some wonderful and determined attempts to stick on viciously bucking animals, the rider hanging on manfully by gullet plate and cantle, yea, you might say with teeth and toe-nails, yelling, "Whoa, whoa, you----!" at the top of his gamut, while his admiring comrades howled their applause, every man-jack of them anxious to try his luck the moment the temporary horseman should be gra.s.sed. Of course it must be remembered that all of these men had been accustomed to jockey the yard-arm of a plunging s.h.i.+p, and as Jack is by nature and training utterly fearless, I should have bet my bottom dollar that any one of them would have unhesitatingly tried to have ridden Old Nick himself, had he chanced to have come along on four legs. Here I'm off the right spoor of my yarn again, so must circle and pick it up.

It was on the afternoon of the said day, a number of us were gathered together in the billiard-room of the club, when a tremendous cheer from the crowded street caused us to make for the verandah, to see what had caused such an uproar. And this is what we spotted. But mark time, as I must digress again for a moment.

Years before Cobb & Co. introduced into New Zealand their American coaches some speculative settler had imported one of the original London omnibuses, a vehicle of great length, on which the top pa.s.sengers sat back to back, with their knees up to their chins on what was known as knife-boards, and gained these perches by crawling up perpendicular iron ladders fastened to either side of the door. A more unsuitable trap could not have been invented for New Zealand roads, so that shortly after its arrival it was stowed away and forgotten by the general public. Its owner, however, was a cute fellow, for hearing of the probable invasion of sailors, he had the old ramshackle caravan made roadworthy, horsed it, and, on the landing of Jack, promptly chartered it to a large party of them, so that it was the sudden appearance of this prehistoric tramcar, rumbling along the street, that had evoked the burst of applause which had attracted our attention.

Truly Jack had rigged and fitted out the old shandrydan handsomely, as flags, streamers and wreaths decorated it wherever it was possible to make them fast. Nor was she indifferently manned, as even musicians had been provided, for, perched along the driver's footboard, two more than half drunk fiddlers and a half-section of equally intoxicated fifers sawed and blew for all they were worth. The coachman sat on the usual raised seat in the centre of the fore cross-bench, and on either side of him lolled two huge quartermasters who, cigar in mouth and arms crossed, tried to appear quite at their ease and preterhumanly sober. The roof of the vehicle was overcrowded with brawny bluejackets all rollicking drunk, who demonstrated their good will to the pa.s.sers-by and the laughing spectators in the windows by holding out to them bottles of liquor, while at the same time they exchanged badinage of a saline nature with their messmates thronging the side-walks. The inside of the old omnibus was occupied by only two men, who ostentatiously sniffed at and frequently tasted huge bottles of make-believe medicine, while at intervals they exhibited to the onlookers grotesque imitations of surgical instruments, and, in case it required any further explanation as to what the interior of the vehicle was intended to represent, over the windows and doors were chalked such notices as--Sick-bay, Dead-house, Boozers-locker, etc.

All this was funny enough, but although the appearance of the old rattle-trap somewhat surprised us, still there was nothing, after all, extraordinary in its existence, nor in its festive crew, and we should merely have laughed and forgotten the circ.u.mstance had we not spotted, the moment it came abreast of us, a wondrous appendage to the vehicle itself, for at the tail-end over the door protruded two stout poles, from which was suspended a large-sized stable wheelbarrow. Now what in the name of Comus could Jack want with a wheelbarrow? Its presence roused our curiosity, so that we at once made for the stables, where our horses were carefully locked up, mounted and followed the festive show that had taken the road towards the Hut (a small village a short distance along the sea coast from Wellington and a very pretty drive).

Our journey in search of knowledge was not to take us far, for we had only just caught up to the slowly moving caravan when, as it turned a sharp corner, one of the crew, rather more drunk than the others, lost his balance, tumbled off the top and landed on the road, which fortunately for him was at this spot heavy sand, with a concussion that would have killed or seriously maimed any sober landlubber. In a moment a shout of "Man overboard" was raised and a stentorian voice howled out: "Hard down with your helm, back the main yard, heave to,"

and in almost the same breath: "Pipe away the jolly-boat." Out rang a shrill pipe: "Jolly-boats away," and in a second down was lowered the wheelbarrow, down slid two men, and before even a woman could get breath for a squeal, or any of the horrified spectators could gather round the unfortunate, who lay on the road striking out with his arms and legs as if swimming, they ran the wheelbarrow up to him, dumped him in, ran him back to the door of the sick-bay, into which he was promptly hauled and administered to by the attendants. "Hook on and hoist jolly-boat" was the next order, the crew of which, disdaining the use of ladders, scrambled up the side, and the wheelbarrow was run up and made fast. Then came the order, "Square away the main yard,"

the coachman whipped up his horses and away they went before the gaping populace could remember or make use of a single pious e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. Now this was very funny, and we all enjoyed a hearty laugh, but Jack was far from the end of his farcical frolic, as there was, not far ahead, a house, half inn, half farm, owned by a fine, bluff old sea-dog who had himself served as bos'n in the Royal Navy, and as they were sure to halt--I beg pardon, heave to--there, thither, expecting more fun, we determined to follow them, and were not sorry we did so, as no sooner were they abreast of the house, which was situated a few feet from the roadway, than H.M.S. _Shandrydan_ was again skilfully hove to, the jolly-boat was lowered and manned, and the strident voice sang out: "Pipe all hands ash.o.r.e to lay in wood and water."

Then as a combined movement took place to vacate the roof: "Vast heaving, you thirsty swabs; see the sick-bay cleared first, the fiddlers and idlers, and then the rest of you take your blooming turn."

The order was carried out to the letter, each man as he got into the barrow being run up to and shot out on to the verandah, every one of them on recovering his feet touching his cap to the host, who stood beside the open door, and saluting him with the words: "Come on board, sir." We had seen enough, so cantered gaily back to the club, myself thinking how extremely useful the jolly-boat would be later on, always provided the crew of it were teetotallers, in a.s.sisting their messmates to their quarters when H.M.S. _Shandrydan_ had finished her cruise and her gallant crew's back teeth were awash with their potations. Yes, the idea of carting along the wheelbarrow was not only humorous but it demonstrated profound forethought on the part of the Jacks, and I maintain that no soldier in the world, not even my beloved countrymen, would ever have the nous to devise such a whimsical, and at the same time provident, entertainment, so I therefore declare that her late Majesty's bluejackets were the first in devilment as they ran the Irish Tommy neck and neck in war. "Here's good luck to the crowd of them!"

CHAPTER V

THE CONVERSION OF MIKE O'LEARY

"Whin a man's that cross and crabbed that his sowle's as black as paint, An' his contrary conversation wud petrify a saint, And he will ate mate on fast days, an scornes the praste as well, Ould Nick will soon be after him, to escort him straight to (the guard room)."

QUIN.

Years ago I was soldiering in South Africa, and at that time owned a few horses, my own private property and nothing to do with the Government. I used to race a bit in a small way, just for the sport, and it became necessary for me to employ a groom who must be my own private servant.

Now grooms were hard to get, especially at the price I could afford to pay, and I did not want a man of the sundowner stamp. One evening my servant came to me and informed me that a man had come into camp who was looking out for a job and he thought he would do. On my asking him why he thought he would do (for Quin, though an Irishman, was, wonderful to relate, no horseman and had no knowledge of horses) replied: "The man is an Irishman, a small man, a knowledgeable man, and also a townie of my own." So I decided to see him, and Mike O'Leary was ushered in. Directly I saw him I seemed to know him, but for a time could not place him, till at last it flashed through my mind he must be Charles Lever's Corney Delaney come to life again, or at all events the creature in front of me must be a descendant of his. Not that the dress was similar, for my man wore breeches and boots, both of which wanted renewing, but the head, the face, the cross, crabbed expression and the general appearance were exactly like the immortal Corney as depicted by Phiz in "Jack Hinton." He was a tough, wiry little fellow, showing, as we say out in the colonies, the marks of the Whalaby.

He stood rigidly to attention, after glancing at myself and belongings with a sneering grin that would have excited the envy of Satan himself. So I opened fire with the remark: "You are an old soldier."

"I am," quoth he; "and served in the 57th, G.o.d bless them! They wor a rigimint you could be proud of, not a tearing lot of divils the likes of what you've got here. Bad scran to them! it's neither soldiers or peelers they be."

"Well, well," I said, "leave the men alone. I want a groom. Are you one?"

"It's a lot of grooms you do be wanting, judging by the look of your troop horses," he snarled.

"Leave the troop horses alone. I want a man as my own private servant.

Do you want work of that sort?"

"I may take you on trial," he rejoined, "for did I not serve under your honourable father, Sir George Brown, in the Crimee."

Now Sir George Brown was not my father, nor any relation to me, but Mike O'Leary would have it so, and Sir George was trotted out of his grave and thrown in my teeth as long as Mike lived. Well, he was not a promising lot, but I was so hard up for a man, and the horses wanted so much looking after, that I took him on. As a groom he was perfect; never have I seen a man his equal. The horses took to him, and he was devoted to them. But, by the Lord Harry! he was a blister to everyone else on the station. How he had ever been enlisted in the 57th the Lord only knows, and how he had ever existed in the regiment is a mystery to me to this day. His tongue was as sharp as a double-edged sword, and as bitter as gall, but the little fiend could fight like a gamec.o.c.k, and was as hard as iron, so that when his remarks were resented he was always ready to back his words up with his hands, until at last most of the troopers were only too glad to leave Mike alone.

As regards myself, he showed me neither deference nor respect, would never say Sir when addressing me, and would openly and audibly criticise my riding, my personal appearance, my drill, and my dress, and none of these to my credit. Poor Sir George was also brought to the fore every day, and the difference between us as to morals, manners, sport, or anything else that might be on the tapis, was pointed out and expatiated upon, and never in my favour. The little beast became quite obnoxious to me, but he did so well by the horses that I could not part with him, and came at last to look on him as a trial sent by Providence to humiliate me, and as a punishment for my sins; so I was bound to accept him as such, and put up with him.