“Oh!” replied I, “it is all the same to me, what you sing; the Colonel here will give you the orders.”
The stiffly screwed countenance of the sergeant, in spite of his efforts, relaxed into a smile, and a loud burst of laughter rung round the table, in which I very good-humouredly joined, when I learned my mistake from the president.
The mess broke up about half-past eleven o'clock, with a bumper to the new member—three times three—and the Colonel withdrew, as did the Captains and most of the Lieutenants, leaving me in company with three jolly Subs, like myself, very little inclined for “balmy sleep.” At their proposal, we sallied forth, and after a serenade or two of the most transcendent nature beneath some windows, better known to my companions than to me, we proceeded to “finish” the evening. The particulars of our proceedings I almost forget, and therefore must let them rest in the tomb of all the devilries.
The next day I may consider to have been my first appearance in public as a PROPERLY authenticated officer in the army. I stood upon the parade fully equipped, and with my regiment. During all the time, I might as well have been in the pillory—nothing relieved me but pulling on and off my gloves, fixing my cravat, and playing with my sword-knot. I formed one of those whom the admiring crowd gazed at. I was saluted every where by passing soldiers, and I gratified my vanity in this point, by repeatedly walking past the sentries on duty at the Palace, to hear them slap the butt-ends of their muskets, as they “carried arms” to compliment me. I was gazed at on the Steyne by the most captivating eyes—I was smiled at in the Library by the most fascinating faces—lovely lights gleamed on me from balconies, barouches, and donkeys' backs—pelisses flounced, and feathers waved for me—I was somebody, I was everybody—there was nobody in the world but me—myself! at least I saw no one else worth a moment's consideration, except as far as their admiration of me was concerned. I never ate so many ices and jellies in my life; not for the love my appetite bore to such confections, but the lounge—the graceful halo which the discussion of an ice throws round the military figure in a pastry-cook's shop is every thing: It was delightful! and as to paying, I paid for all my friends; who, to say the truth of them, were obliging enough to assist in the ceremony as often as I pleased. Of course, many agreeable ladies were present at these happy displays, who, with a lee-tle persuasion (bless their modesty!) did their parts remarkably well. The intervals of lounging thus about the town, the cliffs, &c. were filled up by billiards—at which game I delighted to play, merely because I could not play, but fancied myself, like smatterers in all arts and sciences, a “pretty considerable” sort of performer. I, however, got a few good lessons, which, although I did not profit by, yet they served the purpose of enabling me to pass an idle hour, and to set off my pecuniary advantages in a proper manner. I lost some pounds at this “amusement” as it is called; but I had received a good stock of cash from my father on my appointment, for I believe the “old boy” was as much delighted with my ensigncy as I was myself, and would spare nothing to forward his son's interests in life, and enable him to support the dignity of his situation. Heaven help the worthy man! interest and dignity indeed! It would have been much better for me, and for himself, that he had confined his liberality to furnishing me with necessaries only, and obliged me to live on my pay.
Before I had been three days at Brighton, my purse was in a rapid consumption, and the air of that fashionable watering-place was in no way calculated to recover it from the effects of the shock it had received in London. I beheld it dwindling to a shadow; and what was worse, there was no soothing restorative in the hands of its physicians, Doctors Greenwood and Cox, of Craig's Court, London. In consequence of this decay of my purse, I passed Sunday in rather a sombre mood, and, with the exception of marching to church with my regiment, I had nothing to lighten the forenoon. In this disposition I sat down to write to all my friends, and in the descriptions, wherein I detailed to them my proceedings, lived my time in the service over again. I described my setting out from London “to join”—my arrival at the barracks—reporting myself to the commanding officer—my servant—my preparations for the mess—mess drums and fifes—the dinner—thirty honours of wine—the band (not a word about the “singers” and their books)—our serenade—my first parade—my attendance of officers' drills—mode of saluting with the sword at the “present”—account of orders for marching to embark for Spain (this we only expected at the regiment)—a sentimental adieu, and injunctions in case I should fall—heroism and glory—England and his Majesty! In short, I wrote from one till six that day, and not less than half a dozen letters. In the last, which was to my father, I did not forget the main point—I spoke of finance in such a way, that I received in return three sides of a sheet of paper closely written and crossed, containing, however, a handsome remittance, which happily arrived just as I concluded my FIRST WEEK IN THE SERVICE.
THE SOLDIER'S ORPHAN.
“Heu! miserande puer!”—Virgil.