He walks across the room digging his heels down at every step with a ferocity intended to inspire all beholders with a high idea of his determination, and asks, when a person's name is mentioned, whether he's in "the Service;" and, on being told to the contrary, speaks of him ever afterwards as "a Civilian." And when the host's young nephew, who is home for the holidays, accidentally treads on the toe of Mr. Arthur Bumpshus's Patent Leather Boots, Mr. A. B. frowns in a way that makes the poor youth in the jacket tremble again in his pumps; for the young military gentleman is anxious to distinguish himself for his valour in the eyes of his friends.
He will not allow the engraver to have any peace until he sends home Mr. Arthur Bumpshus's cards, with the No. of his regiment printed upon them; and, when he gets them, Mr. A. B. goes the whole round of his acquaintance, and calls at the house of each of his friends at a time when he hopes they are in the park, so that he may have an opportunity of leaving them one of the bits of glazed pasteboard which announces that he has got his Commission.
He also pays a visit to Laurie, for the purpose of ordering his saddle; and hearing Major Splatterdash, of "the Heavies," swear at the saddler for something which is not quite to the Major's satisfaction, the young gentleman follows his brother-officer's example, and gets a not very gentle hint from the tradesman, that unless he can behave himself he had better leave the shop; for though Laurie may consider it worth his while to pocket an insult from a Major of ten years' standing, it does not exactly answer his purpose to do the like with a sucking ensign.
In short, the young military gentleman persists in making himself as obnoxious as possible to all people, with the view of impressing them with his importance, though he forgets that while he is endeavouring to play the Lion, the Ass's bray continually betrays him.
No. 2.
THE YACHTING MAN.
"Beg your pardon! hope I've not hurt you; but you were right in the gangway!" exclaims a light-haired, blue-coated specimen of humanity, as he enters the ball-room, and treads on the feet, and grinds the head of one of the guests against the door-post he fancies he is ornamenting; and then he rushes violently up to the lady of the house, and shakes her hand with a vehemence more cordial than "comme-il-faut;" and then, turning to the host, apologizes for being so late, declaring that he had carried away every stitch of canvas he could stagger under, and would have made the house half-an-hour before, but he'd had a capsize in a cab, and it took him some time to get under weigh again.
Then he mixes in the crowd, and on closer inspection, you perceive by the bright buttons on his blue coat, which have a crown and anchor and some inscription upon them, that he belongs to one of the Royal Yacht Clubs; while the same bright buttons with the same crown and anchor, &c., only a size smaller, adorning his white waistcoat, tell you that he is not ashamed of it.
From his conversation we are made acquainted with the important fact that there had been a match that day at Erith, and that his yacht must have won only his gaff-topsail was carried away in a squall; and we learn, moreover, that he fully sympathizes with Lord Freshwater, who would have come in a good second had not a Hatch Boat run right into his starboard-bow, and driven her bowsprit clean through his lordship's balloon-jib. And then he tells the listeners a remarkably funny story of a friend of his, who went for a cruise with him, and would persist in calling "going on deck" "going upstairs;" whereat the yachting man laughs immoderately, and takes care all the evening through to term "going downstairs," "going below."
He does not dance much, but whenever he does stand up for a Quadrille he talks very loud to his partner, saying, "Aye, aye," to all her questions; and he rushes to the refreshment-room with her directly the dance is over, where he does not restrict himself to negus and ices, but attacks the port wine at once.
During the supper he does not do much until the ladies have left, and then he falls to with surprising vigour, and calling the footman on one side, inquires whether there is any malt to be had. When the beer arrives he professes an intense contempt for champagne, and says that as far as he is concerned a glass of two-water grog is better than all the wine in the Docks, especially when one's on deck at night; all which causes the younger men of the party to look upon him as a very dashing sort of a fellow. And if by any chance he is asked for a song, he is sure to squall "I'm afloat," or "A Life on the Ocean Wave," though his knowledge of such a state of existence must be very limited, for he has seldom been beyond the Nore, and at farthest to Ramsgate,—excepting, by-the-by, once, when we believe he did get as far as the Isle of Wight, during the Cowes Regatta. Nevertheless, a life in his father's country-house would be more in character with his habits.