“‘You wish to know why I left the Fifty-sixth. Now I’ll tell you; but mind, you’re pledged, you’re sworn, never to divulge it.’
“‘Honor bright.’
“‘There, that’s enough; I’m satisfied. It was a slight infraction of the articles of war; a little breach of the rules and regulations of the service; a trifling misconception of the mess code,—they caught me one evening leaving the mess with—What do you think in my pocket? But you’ll never tell! No, no, I know you’ll not; eight forks and a gravy-spoon,—silver forks every one of them. There now,’ said I, grasping his hand, ‘you have my secret; my fame and character are in your hands, for you see they made me quit the regiment,—a man can’t stay in a corps where he is laughed at.’
“Covering my face with my handkerchief, as if to conceal my shame, I turned away, and left Sparks to his meditations. That same evening we happened to have some strangers at mess; the bottle was passing freely round, and as usual the good spirits of the party at the top of their bent, when suddenly from the lower end of the table, a voice was heard demanding, in tones of the most pompous importance, permission to address the president upon a topic where the honor of the whole regiment was concerned.
“‘I rise, gentlemen,’ said Mr. Sparks, ‘with feelings the most painful; whatever may have been the laxity of habit and freedom of conversation habitual in this regiment, I never believed that so flagrant an instance as this morning came to my ears—’
“‘Oh, murder!’ said I. ‘Oh, Sparks, darling, sure you’re not going to tell?’
“‘Doctor Quill,’ replied he, in an austere tone, ‘it is impossible for me to conceal it.’
“‘Oh, Sparks, dear, will you betray me?’
“I gave him here a look of the most imploring entreaty, to which he replied by one of unflinching sternness.
“‘I have made up my mind, sir,’ continued he; ‘it is possible the officers of this corps may look more leniently than I do upon this transaction; but know it they shall.’