“Agreed,” said I; “and now, good-morning.”
So saying, I once more drove on; my head full of all that I had been hearing, and my heart bursting with eagerness to join the gallant fellows now bound for the campaign.
CHAPTER XLIX.
BRUSSELS.
I must not protract a tale already far too long, by the recital of my acquaintance with the gallant Twenty-sixth. It is sufficient that I should say that, having given Mike orders to follow me to Cove, I joined the regiment on their march, and accompanied them to Cork. Every hour of each day brought us in news of moment and importance; and amidst all the stirring preparations for the war, the account of the splendid spectacle of the Champ de Mai burst upon astonished Europe, and the intelligence spread far and near that the enthusiasm of France never rose higher in favor of the Emperor. And while the whole world prepared for the deadly combat, Napoleon surpassed even himself, by the magnificent conceptions for the coming conflict, and the stupendous nature of those plans by which he resolved on resisting combined and united Europe.
While our admiration and wonder of the mighty spirit that ruled the destinies of the continent rose high, so did our own ardent and burning desire for the day when the open field of fight should place us once more in front of each other.
Every hard-fought engagement of the Spanish war was thought of and talked over; from Talavera to Toulouse, all was remembered. And while among the old Peninsulars the military ardor was so universally displayed, among the regiments who had not shared the glories of Spain and Portugal, an equal, perhaps a greater, impulse was created for the approaching campaign.
When we arrived at Cork, the scene of bustle and excitement exceeded anything I ever witnessed. Troops were mustering in every quarter; regiments arriving and embarking; fresh bodies of men pouring in; drills, parades, and inspections going forward; arms, ammunition, and military stores distributing; and amidst all, a spirit of burning enthusiasm animated every rank for the approaching glory of the newly-arisen war.
While thus each was full of his own hopes and expectations, I alone felt depressed and downhearted. My military caste was lost to me forever, my regiment many, many a mile from the scene of the coming strife; though young, I felt like one already old and bygone. The last-joined ensign seemed, in his glowing aspiration, a better soldier than I, as, sad and dispirited, I wandered through the busy crowds, surveying with curious eye each gallant horseman as he rode proudly past. What was wealth and fortune to me? What had they ever been, compared with all they cost me?—the abandonment of the career I loved, the path in life I sought and panted for. Day after day I lingered on, watching with beating heart each detachment as they left the shore; and when their parting cheer rang high above the breeze, turned sadly back to mourn over a life that had failed in its promise, and an existence now shorn of its enjoyment.