I'll make a clean breast, And as for the rest, You may do with me just what the lawyers think best; But haunt me not thus!—let these visitings cease, And, your vengeance accomplish'd, Boy, leave me in peace!" —Harry paused for a moment,—then turning to Bill, Who stood with his mouth open, steady and still, Began "spinning" what nauticals term "a tough yarn," Viz.: his tale of what Bill call'd "this precious consarn."
"It was in such an hour as this, On such a wild and wint'ry day, The forked lightning seemed to hiss, As now, athwart our lonely way, When first these dubious paths I tried— Yon livid form was by my side!—
"Not livid then—the ruddy glow Of life, and youth, and health it bore! And bloodless was that gory brow, And cheerful was the smile it wore, And mildly then those eyes did shine— —Those eyes which now are blasting mine!!
"They beamed with confidence and love Upon my face,—and Andrew Brand Had sooner fear'd yon frighten'd dove Than harm from Gervase Matcham's hand! —I am no Harry Waters—men Did call me Gervase Matcham then.
"And Matcham, though a humble name, Was stainless as the feathery flake From Heaven, whose virgin whiteness came Upon the newly-frozen lake; Commander, comrade, all began To laud the Soldier,—like the Man.
"Nay, muse not, William,—I have said I was a soldier—staunch and true As any he above whose head Old England's lion banner flew; And, duty done,—her claims apart,- 'Twas said I had a kindly heart.
"And years roll'd on,—and with them came Promotion—Corporal—Sergeant—all In turn—I kept mine honest fame— Our Colonel's self,—whom men did call The veriest Martinet—ev'n he, Though cold to most, was kind to me!—
"One morn—oh! may that morning stand Accursed in the rolls of fate Till latest time!—there came command To carry forth a charge of weight To a detachment far away,— —It was their regimental pay!—
"And who so fit for such a task As trusty Matcham, true and tried, Who spurn'd the inebriating flask, With honour for his constant guide?— On Matcham fell their choice—and He,— 'Young Drum,'—should bear him company!