"Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form!"
but where are the riflemen? Can Britannia stamp them out of the dust? or has she a store of "dragon's teeth" to sow? God grant she may never have to defend those English homes against the guns of Vincennes! but if she must, it is on a comparatively undisciplined militia she must depend;—and then she may remember, with bitter self-reproach, the lesson of New Orleans.
A TRIP TO CUBA.
COMPANY AT THE HOTEL.—SERVANTS.—OUR DRIVE.—DON PEPE.
I do not mean to give portraits of the individuals at our hotel. My chance acquaintance with them confers on me no right to appropriate their several characteristics for my own convenience and the diversion of the public. I will give only such general sketches as one may make of a public body at a respectful distance, marking no features that fix or offend.
Our company is almost entirely composed of two classes,—invalids and men of business, with or without their families. The former are easily recognizable by their sad eyes and pallid countenances; even the hectic of disease does not deceive you,—it has no affinity to the rose of health. There is the cough, too,—the cruel cough that would not be left at the North, that breaks out through all the smothering by day, and shakes the weak frame with uneasy rocking by night.
The men of business are apt to name their firm, when they introduce themselves to you.
"My name is Norval, Sir,—Norval, Grampian, & Company. I suppose you know the firm."
We do not, indeed; but we murmur, in return, that we have an uncle or a cousin in business, who may, very likely, know it.
"What is your uncle's firm?" will be the next question.