“He belongs to the first regiment of light buldhoons,” muttered a third.
“My life on't, Tom, you're wrong,” rejoined one of the critics; “I'll bet any of you a dozen of Champaigne that he is a thorough-bred horse-marine; you may see that by his jockey boots.”
Thus they went on at intervals during several turns on the walk. All this time my angry feelings were forcibly getting the better of my judgment, and I began to experience a strong desire to come to the point with these gentlemen, and to show them that I was neither a griffin, nor a golok, a heron, nor a horse-marine, but an Ensign in the regular service of his Majesty.
I immediately determined on addressing them; and, in a very few moments, had an opportunity of doing so; for the whole line, arm-in-arm, on our next meeting, attempted to surround me; at which moment I fixed upon the individual who had been most forward in his observations upon me, and a scene of complete confusion followed. I demanded an exchange of cards, but he declined with a sneer, and a horse laugh rung from his companions. I found myself beset on all sides with such a clamour, that I could not have made a word heard, even if I had attempted to do so through a speaking-trumpet.
It was evident that I had no chance of obtaining satisfaction. My assertion that I was an officer in the army was only treated with contempt; and I had no means of finding out the address of any one of my opponents.
I was in the midst of this disagreeable rencontre, when an elderly gentleman, whose weather-beaten front and military air convinced me that he belonged to “the cloth,” took me by the arm, and, leading me aside, asked whether I was really an officer in the service? On my answering in the affirmative, he replied, “I know the young men you disputed with; so make yourself easy, Sir. Walk this way, and let me have your address. I have been an eye-witness of the affair, and you shall have satisfaction to-morrow, I promise you.”
I instantly gave the gentleman my card, thanking him warmly at the same time for the kindness with which he seemed to treat me. He then requested me to retire, and assured me that he would certainly be with me next morning.
I proceeded to my hotel, on the whole not displeased, considering that there was some importance attached to the adventure, and that I had something like a duel already on my hands, although but one day in the service. The idea of a newspaper paragraph setting forth an affair of honour between Ensign B—— of the Line, and Mr. So-and-So, of So-and-so, with a challenge, dated from Slaughter's Coffee House,—an address peculiarly military at that time,—was by no means a displeasing source of reflection; and although I occasionally read myself a different version of the said paragraph, in which the words “mortally wounded” took up an unpleasant position, I slept soundly and dreamt delightfully.
Next morning I was up early, determined to have all things arranged comme il faut before the arrival of my volunteer friend, who was to manage matters for me. The first thing I did was to send for an engraver, in order to have my card-plate prepared, with my rank properly displayed thereon. This I managed to have executed in one hour, on condition of paying five shillings extra for dispatch; although the brazen artizan told me at first his orders were so “numerous” that he feared he could not get the plate done for three days: but a crown has often wonderful effect in altering the minds of people.
Forty cards, duly printed, were on my breakfast-table at half-past nine o'clock, and I think I had almost as much pleasure in reading my rank upon them, as I experienced the evening before in seeing it in the Gazette.