That worthy, after hearing both sides of the case with becoming gravity, finally sentenced our two travellers to pay for the repairs of the sword which had been so courageously broken in defence of their civic rights.
SHOT THE FOURTH.
Sword Law.
At the commencement of the battle of Waterloo, three companies of our riflemen held a sand bank, in front of the position, and abreast of La Haye Saint, which we clung to most tenaciously, and it was not until we were stormed in front and turned in both flanks that we finally left it. Previous to doing so, however, a French officer rushed out of their ranks and made a dash at one of ours, but neglecting the prudent precaution of calculating the chances of success before striking the first blow, it cost him his life. The officer he stormed happened to be a gigantic highlander about six feet and a half—and, like most big men, slow to wrath, but a fury when roused. The Frenchman held that in his hand which was well calculated to bring all sizes upon a level—a good small sword—but as he had forgotten to put on his spectacles, his first (and last) thrust passed by the body and lodged in the highlander's left arm. Saunders's blood was now up (as well as down) and with our then small regulation half-moon sabre, better calculated to shave a lady's-maid than a Frenchman's head, he made it descend on the pericranium of his unfortunate adversary with a force which snapped it at the hilt. His next dash was with his fist (and the hilt in it) smack in his adversary's face, which sent him to the earth; and though I grieve to record it, yet as the truth must be told, I fear me that the chivalrous Frenchman died an ignominious death, viz. by a kick. But where one's own life is at stake, we must not be too particular.
SHOT THE FIFTH.
Love Law.
Of all the evils with which a sober community can be cursed, there is none so great as a guard-house; for while the notable house-wife is superintending the scouring of her kitchen coppers, and the worthy citizen is selling his sweets, the daughters are as surely to be found lavishing their's upon their gaudy neighbour, while the nursery-maid standing a story higher is to be seen sending her regards a step lower—into the sentry-box.
Though many years have now passed away, I remember as if but yesterday, my first guard mounting, in a certain garrison town which shall be nameless. After performing the first usual routine of military duties, my next was, as a matter of course, to reconnoitre the neighbourhood; for if a house happened to be within range of the officer's beat, he seldom had to look for an adventure in vain,—nor had I on the occasion alluded to. The station was in the centre of a populous city, the purlieus were genteel, and at the window of one of the opposite houses I soon descried a bevy of maidens who seemed to be regarding me with no small curiosity.
Eyes met eyes which looked again, and as all seemed to go merry as a marriage bell, I took out my pencil and motioned as if I would write, which meeting with an approving smile, I straightway indited an epistle suitable to the occasion, and shewing it to them when ready, I strolled past the door, where, as I expected, I found a fair hand which seemed to belong to nobody, in readiness to receive it.
In the course of a few minutes I received a note from the same mysterious hand, desiring to be informed for which of the group my last effusion was intended; and though the question was rather a puzzler to a person who had never seen them before, and, even then, too far off to be able to distinguish whether their eyes were green or yellow, yet I very judiciously requested that my correspondent would accept it on her own account. It was arranged accordingly, and her next epistle, while it preached prudence and discretion, desired that I should come to the door at eleven at night when she would have an opportunity of speaking to me.
It may be imagined that time flew on leaden wings until the arrival of the appointed hour, when proceeding as directed, I found the door ajar, and the vision of the hand, now with a body in the back ground, beckoning me to enter. Following the invitation the door was gently closed, and I was soon in a large dimly lighted hall, by the side of my fair incognita, with my hand clasped in hers. But ah me! I had barely time to unburthen myself of a hurricane of sighs (enough to have blown a fire out) and to give one chaste salute, when papa's well-known knock was heard at the door and dissolved the charm.