"Well—well," said Kirkton, "drink and forget."
"No—no more for me, and you, Tom, have had quite enough."
"Bah! another glass—for sobriety, there is not my equal in the service—in the Greys most certainly—"
"How stands the glass around?
For shame, ye take no care, my boys!"
Of this night I remember no more, than falling asleep—I am ashamed to say—across the table, during Kirkton's song, completely overcome by what I had imbibed; and thus ended the first episode of my new career.
CHAPTER VI.
ENLISTMENT.
Early morning brought sobriety, with a headache, a burning thirst, and deep reflection.
I had enlisted as a private dragoon: I, the heir to a baronetcy; but it was a baronetcy that would not bring with it an acre of land, and by the enmity of its present possessors, I was then on the verge of total want. What other path was open to me than this, which it seemed as if the hand of destiny now indicated?
"Yes—yes," thought I, "it is the dictum of fate!"