“Hoo the deel's that?” demanded M'Fadgen.
“Why, I'll tell you. We got the tent from the store—an old marquee—and we instructed the gipsy to tell every fellow who he saw was likely to suit, that his fortune lay in a red coat; that he was to be a high officer in a marching regiment, and to marry a General's daughter—with a hundred other things; such as—that he was born to be a great man, and that he had it in his countenance. To the young women he would say, that either their brothers or their sweethearts were to be great generals in the army, and that they themselves were to be officers' ladies. The simple girls would run directly to their sweethearts, and tell what they had heard of future greatness; and it was ten to one but the booby who heard it, went first and got drunk; then, half gin half joy, entered the road to glory by a silver ticket in the shape of a shilling. It is not always that you can humbug the Irish and Scotch so: if they are not previously inclined to enlist, scarcely any thing will make them do so; indeed the Irish very often humbug the sergeant out of a skinful of drink, and then hop off, without even touching the silver trap. They are easier enlisted, from their poverty; but not half so easily humbugged as my countrymen, the worthy John Bulls.”
“By dad, Jack,” observed Mulligan, “you're no fool, at all events. I wonder how the devil they ever caught you.”
“My own will,” replied Jack. “I was educated well; my parents died when I was but young. I ran away, and went on the stage, where I starved a couple of years; and having got acquainted with a sergeant in Portsmouth, I learnt the nature of the service. I examined a soldier's life thoroughly; and, on mature consideration, gave it the preference to that of a wanderer without profession or trade. I knew that if I did my duty I could be happy, and I entered determined to do it. I have done it, and I am happy—perhaps more so than many men in trade, who call themselves rich.”
“Jock Andrews, ye speak your sentiments like a good sodger, and I hope afore long that ye'll have the stripes. Indeed I think yir mark'd oot for it. I agree with ye, there is nae sort o' common life where a man is so weel off as a sodger wha does his duty; but he must do his duty, mind ye. He has got his comfortable hame with his comrades, his breakfast of brochan[18], or tea, or coffee—his dinner o' gude boiled or roast beef, with potatoes—a clean table-cloth, an' a knife and fork; his bed foond him; his claithes foond him; his hospital in sickness, and his barrack-room in health; an' after a' this, a trifle in his pouch to keep the De'il out. He has na bill to pay—not a baubee. What mair does he want? Show me the workin' man o' ony trade wha can say that he has got mair, an' stands clean oot o' debt.”
“Not one in England,” replied Andrews.
“An' I'm sure you won't find one in Ireland,” observed O'Callaghan.
“This is while the sodger is employed in the three kingdoms; but look at him abroad. There he has a' found him, an' o' th' best the country can afford, for twa pence an' a baubee ilka day; the remainder he has to spen'—at least he can coont on saxpence a-day clean out o' a', an' just to do as he likes wi'.”
“By the powers, Serjeant!” exclaimed private Mulligan, “if I had fifty brothers an' sisthers, I'd make them all list directly, so I would; and I wouldn't exchange my situation now with any mechanic at two guineas a-week, who works like a pack-hors, and afther all, in rags and in dirt—not a testher[19] to bless himself with. It's only lazy, hulking, ill-tempered fellows, that dislike a sodger's life; they don't like to be ordthered, nor to be clane and dacent; an' so they get kicked about like an owld hat, as they desarve: but let a man do his juty as a man, an' he will find himself respected an' happy; no body dar say ill you done it, but all things will go smooth, and he'll be as comfortable an' as snug as a bug in a rug.”
“Well done, Mulligan! Bravo! bravo!” roared out all the guard; and an applauding laugh from every listener produced an agreeable effect upon the face of the worthy private, who, no doubt, would have resumed his subject, but that the hour for relieving the posts was arrived—and this put an end to the confab.