Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Eleven.Which of their weapons hath the conquest gotOver their wits; the pipe or else the pot?For even the derivation of the nameSeems to allude and to include the same:Tobacco as “to Bakcho”, one would say;To cup-god Bacchus dedicated ay.(This includes a joke in Greek script, not a very clever one.)A few days after this occurrence, Terence Daly, more familiarly called “Terry,” a comrade quartered in the same room as myself, returned from Ireland, whence he had been on furlough, and brought with him a large bladder full of whisky. Now there were few, if any, of us ever calculated the effect of this ardent spirit so pure and so strong as Terry had brought it.“Boys,” said he, as he tumbled the bladder from his valise on to the floor, “this is the raal dhrop of Irish eye-water—not Jamieson’s eye-water, but a betther soort, by rason of its being distilled in the Bog of Allan, and never paid a farden of duty.”I had never before taken liquor of any description to such an extent as to make me intoxicated—in fact, I had fully made up my mind to avoid intemperance (the greatest curse of all, to both soldiers and civilians); but Terry, with the proverbial good nature of his race, insisted that I should have “one glass,” as all the rest of the men in the room. Some, unfortunately, were not content with one, two, or three glasses.We were ordered for a “parade under arms” that afternoon, at three o’clock, and it was dinner-time when Terry produced the whisky. Now, a parade under arms, on foot, requires an uncommon degree of steadiness and precision. We were all steady enough until required to “form” and “dress” in troops before taking our place in the ranks with the main body of the regiment, but it was then discovered that the men who had partaken of the “eye-water,” including myself, could scarcely stand at all, let alone stand or march steady. It is a most serious crime in the army to be “drunkfor duty;” indeed, a man who has been four times convicted of this crime is “drummed out of the regiment” (a process I shall describe in a future chapter). The result was that we were all confined in the guard-room until the following day, when we were escorted before the colonel.Each was taken into the office and interrogated separately, and we told the truth, namely, that we had “no idea the whisky would have such an effect.” We were then all taken in together, and received a severe reprimand from the colonel, who ordered us to be “confined to barracks” for fourteen days. Terry, whose furlough did not expire until the evening of the day he returned, did not go to parade, and so he escaped.Being simply “confined to barracks” is not considered a very severe punishment, as the soldier is only prohibited from passing out of the barrack-gate (except he be on duty), and not subjected to any other punishment. All soldiers undergoing punishment are “confined to barracks” in addition to such punishment, whatever it may be, and are termed “defaulters,” a list being kept in the guard-room, pasted on a board, so that the corporal of the guard, who is supposed to be in or about the door of the guard-room day and night, can always ascertain when a soldier presents himself to “pass out” whether he be a “defaulter” or not. It is the duty of the sentry at the front gate to prevent any soldier passing through until the corporal of the guard has first inspected him, in order to see, in the first place, that he is properly dressed for walking out in town, namely, that he is clean in his person and attire, has on a pair of white leather gloves, well-polished boots, and bright spurs, a whip or cane in his hand, and his cap “cocked” in that jaunty style that gives him an appearance of smartness, and a proper display of personal pride, without “puppyism.” This inspection, though always performed, is very seldom necessary, as the soldier generally possesses a sufficiency of native pride to dress himself so as tofancyhe is a regular “swell.” Most young men, whether soldiers or civilians, are imbued with a certain amount of personal vanity; in some instances this amounts to gross foppishness; therefore the cavalry soldier may readily be excused for any display that may appear superfluous in the eyes of a civilian; for although he has few, if any, worldly possessions, and seldom more than a day’s pay in his pocket, yet he is for the most part in the enjoyment of rosy health and a sound constitution. Being subjected on his enlistment to the most skilful surgical examination, in order to ascertain if he be free from every taint of constitutional disease, and that all his limbs and the various organs of his body are perfect, he is more excusable for “showing off” his figure to the best than others, the nature of whose business directs their ideas into a more profitable channel.Some of the “swells” in a cavalry regiment are more primitive in their style and manner of performing their toilets than their brother “swells” in civil life. The military “swell” is always his own valet and groom, and sometimes his own washerwoman. Rimmel’s perfumes, Rowlands’ Macassar and Odonto, and the rest of the toilet paraphernalia that forms a very considerable portion of the travelling luggage of a civilian “swell,” are all dispensed with in barrack or camp life. When the soldier “swell” prepares for parade or a “show off” in town, he first gives his clothes a thorough brushing, then he “chrome-yellows” the braid of his jacket and the stripes of his trousers, or applies some other “reviver” to correspond with the colour of the “facings” of his uniform, cleans his buttons, spurs, boots, and pipe-clays his gloves; he then whistles a tune, or sings a scrap of a song, as he sallies down to the stable with his towel and a piece of common soap, and drawing a bucket of water at the pump, he gives himself a thorough washing, often from head to foot, a spare stall in the stable being his bath-room; the rest of his toilet is performed in the barrack-room. If he wears only a moustache, and no beard on his chin, the latter part of his face must of course be frequently shaven, so as always to appear clean and respectable; for this purpose there is sometimes a “looking-glass,” about eight inches long and six inches wide, placed in some conspicuous part of the room for general use, but more frequently a fragment of a broken mirror about the size of a man’s hand, and mostly a three-cornered, or some other “cornered” shape, is all the toilet-glass used or required for the dressing and shaving of eight men. The “swells” will sometimes indulge in tooth-powder, and a species of villainous scented oil purchased at the canteen, but the majority, if they use oil or tooth-powder at all, will be content withpowdered Bath-brick, a coarse but most effective tooth-powder; and the oil used for cleaning bits, stirrups, swords, and the like, is substituted for “Macassar,” to make the hair glossy. The “swells” will generally sport a ridingwhipduring their walks in town, and those of their comrades who are not so fortunate as to possess one of their own will sometimes borrow these whips without leave, and then there is a “row in the island.” Many of these so-called “swells” have been well educated, and are well connected in civil life, and agreeable, nice fellows they are too; others are arrogant, conceited, and ignorant; these are termed “jumped-up swells-out-of-luck,” and are often told by the old soldiers that they are “better off in the army than any of their friends at home.” The idea that one man is better than another as a private soldier cannot be entertained, because it is considered that if the one who fancies himself superior to his comrades could by any means raise the money, he would purchase his discharge. The fashion of dyeing the moustachios, whiskers, and beard black, is quite a process, during which the barrack-room presents the appearance of a chemical laboratory. This toilet operation is performed just before bed-time. Procuring some litharge from the chemist’s and quicklime from a bricklayer, they mix these two powders together with salad-oil into a paste, and plaster it over every particle of the hair intended to be dyed; sometimes the hair on the head is treated to the process. Over this mixture they place a dock or cabbage leaf, and tie over the whole a bandage to keep the paste in its place, and then retire to rest, presenting, as they lie in bed, much the appearance of an Egyptian mummy about the head. If more than a proportionate quantity of quicklime be used, it will burn the skin; still, a necessary quantity should be added, as it is the principal acting ingredient, the oil and litharge only being added to counteract the burning effect the lime would otherwise have on the skin. When they rise in the morning and take off the bandages, the paste is perfectly dry and crumbles off the hair like dust; the hair is then washed and oiled, after which it presents a beautiful black and glossy appearance, which retains its colour for three or four weeks, and never stains the skin. As respects myself, I am gifted with a very fair crop of dark-brown hair, and, save when my moustachios were just beginning to bud, and I used the old toothbrush and india-ink given to me by my sweetheart “Dorcas” to make me appear more “manly,” and which dyed more of the skin than the hair, I have always been content with the colour given it by Nature.There was little to “dress up” and walk out for in the neighbourhood of Hounslow, the barracks being a long way from the town, and the town itself small, dull, and uninteresting to soldiers of the “dandy school,” whose main object is to “show off,” as they fancy that every female they may meet will be in love with them.Notwithstanding that the regiment was divided into four detachments, while the head-quarters was stationed here, we had in the winter season some “idle time” on our hands; and with the proverbial thoughtlessness and improvidence of soldiers generally, we sometimes spent it foolishly enough. Remaining in barracks for a week or more, and “saving up” our superfluous pay, we then used to sally out in parties of about a dozen each, to have what we called a “spree.”About half a mile from barracks, on the road to the town, there was a public-house, the sign of “The Cricketers,” if I remember right. This house was frequented by many country people, such as waggoners, market-gardeners, and others, who called to “bait” and refresh themselves. With these people we used to fraternise, and have some fun, at times. I remember one cold, frosty day about Christmastime, about half a dozen of us went to this house for the purpose of having some “mulled ale,” commonly called “egg-flip,” from its being made of eggs, ale, nutmeg, ginger, etc. When we walked into the room, there was a very large company of the class I have named above assembled. A smoking-match had just been made between two Berkshire waggoners, as to which could smoke four ounces of tobacco in the east time for a wager of half-a-crown each. Nothing was said about the kind of pipes to be used by either party.The tobacco and two short clay-pipes were placed on the table, and one of the competitors, called Sam by his friends, at once commenced smoking and puffing away at a great rate; the other, whose name was Dick, looked calmly on, while his tobacco and pipe lay on the table untouched.“Go on, lad; I shall overtake thee presently,” said he.Sam puffed away, emptied the ashes out of his pipe, and filled it again. Dick now made a move, walking into the kitchen. He soon returned with an old teapot.“This ismypipe,” said he, placing it on the table, and putting the tobacco, paper, and all into the teapot, and then seizing the tongs, he selected a red-hot cinder from the fire, placing it on the tobacco, and then applying his capacious mouth to the spout, he sent forth a perfect volcano. This wassmokingwith a vengeance; we were obliged to open the door and windows, or we should have been partially suffocated. In vain Sam rammed the weed into the small bowl of his pipe and smoked away with all his might. A very short time sufficed to settle the business, and Dick, with his novel pipe, was declared the winner of the five shillings and the price of the tobacco. But Sam objected to pay: he had beenoutwitted, notoutsmoked. There was a violent altercation, and, finally, the “sodgers” were requested to settle the dispute, which they did by calling upon each person to pay for his own tobacco, and smoke the wager over again at some future period.While this uproarious scene was going on, I noticed, sitting in rather a dark corner of the room, an individual who was evidently not of the same class as the rest of the party, yet he appeared to be quite at home in their company, as they called him “Doctor.” He was a tall, miserable-looking specimen of human kind, attired in a rusty black surtout coat, buttoned close up to the throat, as if to conceal the disagreeable fact of his having no shirt on; his trousers, of the same material as his coat, were greasy and threadbare, and ragged at the bottoms; his boots were out at the toes: still he appeared cheerful and happy under the circumstances, and even cracked a joke now and then with the “Johnny Whopstraws,” who sat near him, one of whom, referring to the dilapidated shoes, asked him if they did not “let the wet in sometimes.” “What of that? they let it out again,” said he. Next to the “Doctor,” on a sort of wooden-seated sofa, sat another individual, well known in barracks as “Soapy,” who existed chiefly by collecting horse-droppings, and assisting the forage-carters to unload hay and straw.“Soapy” was eating something that he appeared anxious to conceal, and, by the manner he put his hand up to his mouth, I suspected it to be horse-beans. He appeared confused whenever his gaze met mine, and therefore was not a little relieved when the party got up to dance to a tune that a merry little journeyman shoemaker was whistling and drumming on the table with his knuckles.A rough-looking fellow took hold of the “Doctor.”“Come, Doctor,” said he, “you must stir your old stumps.”“Now, Soapy,” said another; and in a moment “Soapy” and the “Doctor” were hustled round and round; we preferred to sit still and witness the fun, otherwise our spurs would have left their marks on the shins of the clodhoppers. Tired of dancing, they began to push one another about. One man had his face blackened, but he was evidently unaware of it; some one pushed this man against the “Doctor,” and they both fell on the saw-dusted floor together; “Soapy” was pushed on the top of them, Dick and Sam, the rival smokers, being topmost of all. “Murder!” shouted the “Doctor;” the landlord came, and peace was soon restored.After this row I noticed a lot of little round objects strewed all over the floor, which on examination proved to be empty pill-boxes. The mystery was now unravelled: the “Doctor” was a travelling quack, and “Soapy” had been eating his pills, to which he had helped himself from the “Doctor’s” pockets. When asked how he liked the pills, he said they were “very good,” and he thought they were “only comfits” (a mixture of flour and sugar). He had abstracted and actually eaten the contents of seventeen boxes, enough to “kill six horses,” as the “Doctor” said, by reason of their powerful purgative properties. He felt “Soapy’s” pulse, and talked of the stomach-pump, which did not in the least alarm the half-wit, who declared that he “could eat a wheelbarrow full of them.”“Well,” said the Doctor, “I would not be in your place for all the world.”We remained over an hour after this, during which no change took place in “Soapy’s” ordinary health, and meeting him in barracks about ten days after, I asked him whether the pills had made him ill. He replied, “No, not yet, but I expect they will do so, before long.”

Which of their weapons hath the conquest gotOver their wits; the pipe or else the pot?For even the derivation of the nameSeems to allude and to include the same:Tobacco as “to Bakcho”, one would say;To cup-god Bacchus dedicated ay.(This includes a joke in Greek script, not a very clever one.)

Which of their weapons hath the conquest gotOver their wits; the pipe or else the pot?For even the derivation of the nameSeems to allude and to include the same:Tobacco as “to Bakcho”, one would say;To cup-god Bacchus dedicated ay.(This includes a joke in Greek script, not a very clever one.)

A few days after this occurrence, Terence Daly, more familiarly called “Terry,” a comrade quartered in the same room as myself, returned from Ireland, whence he had been on furlough, and brought with him a large bladder full of whisky. Now there were few, if any, of us ever calculated the effect of this ardent spirit so pure and so strong as Terry had brought it.

“Boys,” said he, as he tumbled the bladder from his valise on to the floor, “this is the raal dhrop of Irish eye-water—not Jamieson’s eye-water, but a betther soort, by rason of its being distilled in the Bog of Allan, and never paid a farden of duty.”

I had never before taken liquor of any description to such an extent as to make me intoxicated—in fact, I had fully made up my mind to avoid intemperance (the greatest curse of all, to both soldiers and civilians); but Terry, with the proverbial good nature of his race, insisted that I should have “one glass,” as all the rest of the men in the room. Some, unfortunately, were not content with one, two, or three glasses.

We were ordered for a “parade under arms” that afternoon, at three o’clock, and it was dinner-time when Terry produced the whisky. Now, a parade under arms, on foot, requires an uncommon degree of steadiness and precision. We were all steady enough until required to “form” and “dress” in troops before taking our place in the ranks with the main body of the regiment, but it was then discovered that the men who had partaken of the “eye-water,” including myself, could scarcely stand at all, let alone stand or march steady. It is a most serious crime in the army to be “drunkfor duty;” indeed, a man who has been four times convicted of this crime is “drummed out of the regiment” (a process I shall describe in a future chapter). The result was that we were all confined in the guard-room until the following day, when we were escorted before the colonel.

Each was taken into the office and interrogated separately, and we told the truth, namely, that we had “no idea the whisky would have such an effect.” We were then all taken in together, and received a severe reprimand from the colonel, who ordered us to be “confined to barracks” for fourteen days. Terry, whose furlough did not expire until the evening of the day he returned, did not go to parade, and so he escaped.

Being simply “confined to barracks” is not considered a very severe punishment, as the soldier is only prohibited from passing out of the barrack-gate (except he be on duty), and not subjected to any other punishment. All soldiers undergoing punishment are “confined to barracks” in addition to such punishment, whatever it may be, and are termed “defaulters,” a list being kept in the guard-room, pasted on a board, so that the corporal of the guard, who is supposed to be in or about the door of the guard-room day and night, can always ascertain when a soldier presents himself to “pass out” whether he be a “defaulter” or not. It is the duty of the sentry at the front gate to prevent any soldier passing through until the corporal of the guard has first inspected him, in order to see, in the first place, that he is properly dressed for walking out in town, namely, that he is clean in his person and attire, has on a pair of white leather gloves, well-polished boots, and bright spurs, a whip or cane in his hand, and his cap “cocked” in that jaunty style that gives him an appearance of smartness, and a proper display of personal pride, without “puppyism.” This inspection, though always performed, is very seldom necessary, as the soldier generally possesses a sufficiency of native pride to dress himself so as tofancyhe is a regular “swell.” Most young men, whether soldiers or civilians, are imbued with a certain amount of personal vanity; in some instances this amounts to gross foppishness; therefore the cavalry soldier may readily be excused for any display that may appear superfluous in the eyes of a civilian; for although he has few, if any, worldly possessions, and seldom more than a day’s pay in his pocket, yet he is for the most part in the enjoyment of rosy health and a sound constitution. Being subjected on his enlistment to the most skilful surgical examination, in order to ascertain if he be free from every taint of constitutional disease, and that all his limbs and the various organs of his body are perfect, he is more excusable for “showing off” his figure to the best than others, the nature of whose business directs their ideas into a more profitable channel.

Some of the “swells” in a cavalry regiment are more primitive in their style and manner of performing their toilets than their brother “swells” in civil life. The military “swell” is always his own valet and groom, and sometimes his own washerwoman. Rimmel’s perfumes, Rowlands’ Macassar and Odonto, and the rest of the toilet paraphernalia that forms a very considerable portion of the travelling luggage of a civilian “swell,” are all dispensed with in barrack or camp life. When the soldier “swell” prepares for parade or a “show off” in town, he first gives his clothes a thorough brushing, then he “chrome-yellows” the braid of his jacket and the stripes of his trousers, or applies some other “reviver” to correspond with the colour of the “facings” of his uniform, cleans his buttons, spurs, boots, and pipe-clays his gloves; he then whistles a tune, or sings a scrap of a song, as he sallies down to the stable with his towel and a piece of common soap, and drawing a bucket of water at the pump, he gives himself a thorough washing, often from head to foot, a spare stall in the stable being his bath-room; the rest of his toilet is performed in the barrack-room. If he wears only a moustache, and no beard on his chin, the latter part of his face must of course be frequently shaven, so as always to appear clean and respectable; for this purpose there is sometimes a “looking-glass,” about eight inches long and six inches wide, placed in some conspicuous part of the room for general use, but more frequently a fragment of a broken mirror about the size of a man’s hand, and mostly a three-cornered, or some other “cornered” shape, is all the toilet-glass used or required for the dressing and shaving of eight men. The “swells” will sometimes indulge in tooth-powder, and a species of villainous scented oil purchased at the canteen, but the majority, if they use oil or tooth-powder at all, will be content withpowdered Bath-brick, a coarse but most effective tooth-powder; and the oil used for cleaning bits, stirrups, swords, and the like, is substituted for “Macassar,” to make the hair glossy. The “swells” will generally sport a ridingwhipduring their walks in town, and those of their comrades who are not so fortunate as to possess one of their own will sometimes borrow these whips without leave, and then there is a “row in the island.” Many of these so-called “swells” have been well educated, and are well connected in civil life, and agreeable, nice fellows they are too; others are arrogant, conceited, and ignorant; these are termed “jumped-up swells-out-of-luck,” and are often told by the old soldiers that they are “better off in the army than any of their friends at home.” The idea that one man is better than another as a private soldier cannot be entertained, because it is considered that if the one who fancies himself superior to his comrades could by any means raise the money, he would purchase his discharge. The fashion of dyeing the moustachios, whiskers, and beard black, is quite a process, during which the barrack-room presents the appearance of a chemical laboratory. This toilet operation is performed just before bed-time. Procuring some litharge from the chemist’s and quicklime from a bricklayer, they mix these two powders together with salad-oil into a paste, and plaster it over every particle of the hair intended to be dyed; sometimes the hair on the head is treated to the process. Over this mixture they place a dock or cabbage leaf, and tie over the whole a bandage to keep the paste in its place, and then retire to rest, presenting, as they lie in bed, much the appearance of an Egyptian mummy about the head. If more than a proportionate quantity of quicklime be used, it will burn the skin; still, a necessary quantity should be added, as it is the principal acting ingredient, the oil and litharge only being added to counteract the burning effect the lime would otherwise have on the skin. When they rise in the morning and take off the bandages, the paste is perfectly dry and crumbles off the hair like dust; the hair is then washed and oiled, after which it presents a beautiful black and glossy appearance, which retains its colour for three or four weeks, and never stains the skin. As respects myself, I am gifted with a very fair crop of dark-brown hair, and, save when my moustachios were just beginning to bud, and I used the old toothbrush and india-ink given to me by my sweetheart “Dorcas” to make me appear more “manly,” and which dyed more of the skin than the hair, I have always been content with the colour given it by Nature.

There was little to “dress up” and walk out for in the neighbourhood of Hounslow, the barracks being a long way from the town, and the town itself small, dull, and uninteresting to soldiers of the “dandy school,” whose main object is to “show off,” as they fancy that every female they may meet will be in love with them.

Notwithstanding that the regiment was divided into four detachments, while the head-quarters was stationed here, we had in the winter season some “idle time” on our hands; and with the proverbial thoughtlessness and improvidence of soldiers generally, we sometimes spent it foolishly enough. Remaining in barracks for a week or more, and “saving up” our superfluous pay, we then used to sally out in parties of about a dozen each, to have what we called a “spree.”

About half a mile from barracks, on the road to the town, there was a public-house, the sign of “The Cricketers,” if I remember right. This house was frequented by many country people, such as waggoners, market-gardeners, and others, who called to “bait” and refresh themselves. With these people we used to fraternise, and have some fun, at times. I remember one cold, frosty day about Christmastime, about half a dozen of us went to this house for the purpose of having some “mulled ale,” commonly called “egg-flip,” from its being made of eggs, ale, nutmeg, ginger, etc. When we walked into the room, there was a very large company of the class I have named above assembled. A smoking-match had just been made between two Berkshire waggoners, as to which could smoke four ounces of tobacco in the east time for a wager of half-a-crown each. Nothing was said about the kind of pipes to be used by either party.

The tobacco and two short clay-pipes were placed on the table, and one of the competitors, called Sam by his friends, at once commenced smoking and puffing away at a great rate; the other, whose name was Dick, looked calmly on, while his tobacco and pipe lay on the table untouched.

“Go on, lad; I shall overtake thee presently,” said he.

Sam puffed away, emptied the ashes out of his pipe, and filled it again. Dick now made a move, walking into the kitchen. He soon returned with an old teapot.

“This ismypipe,” said he, placing it on the table, and putting the tobacco, paper, and all into the teapot, and then seizing the tongs, he selected a red-hot cinder from the fire, placing it on the tobacco, and then applying his capacious mouth to the spout, he sent forth a perfect volcano. This wassmokingwith a vengeance; we were obliged to open the door and windows, or we should have been partially suffocated. In vain Sam rammed the weed into the small bowl of his pipe and smoked away with all his might. A very short time sufficed to settle the business, and Dick, with his novel pipe, was declared the winner of the five shillings and the price of the tobacco. But Sam objected to pay: he had beenoutwitted, notoutsmoked. There was a violent altercation, and, finally, the “sodgers” were requested to settle the dispute, which they did by calling upon each person to pay for his own tobacco, and smoke the wager over again at some future period.

While this uproarious scene was going on, I noticed, sitting in rather a dark corner of the room, an individual who was evidently not of the same class as the rest of the party, yet he appeared to be quite at home in their company, as they called him “Doctor.” He was a tall, miserable-looking specimen of human kind, attired in a rusty black surtout coat, buttoned close up to the throat, as if to conceal the disagreeable fact of his having no shirt on; his trousers, of the same material as his coat, were greasy and threadbare, and ragged at the bottoms; his boots were out at the toes: still he appeared cheerful and happy under the circumstances, and even cracked a joke now and then with the “Johnny Whopstraws,” who sat near him, one of whom, referring to the dilapidated shoes, asked him if they did not “let the wet in sometimes.” “What of that? they let it out again,” said he. Next to the “Doctor,” on a sort of wooden-seated sofa, sat another individual, well known in barracks as “Soapy,” who existed chiefly by collecting horse-droppings, and assisting the forage-carters to unload hay and straw.

“Soapy” was eating something that he appeared anxious to conceal, and, by the manner he put his hand up to his mouth, I suspected it to be horse-beans. He appeared confused whenever his gaze met mine, and therefore was not a little relieved when the party got up to dance to a tune that a merry little journeyman shoemaker was whistling and drumming on the table with his knuckles.

A rough-looking fellow took hold of the “Doctor.”

“Come, Doctor,” said he, “you must stir your old stumps.”

“Now, Soapy,” said another; and in a moment “Soapy” and the “Doctor” were hustled round and round; we preferred to sit still and witness the fun, otherwise our spurs would have left their marks on the shins of the clodhoppers. Tired of dancing, they began to push one another about. One man had his face blackened, but he was evidently unaware of it; some one pushed this man against the “Doctor,” and they both fell on the saw-dusted floor together; “Soapy” was pushed on the top of them, Dick and Sam, the rival smokers, being topmost of all. “Murder!” shouted the “Doctor;” the landlord came, and peace was soon restored.

After this row I noticed a lot of little round objects strewed all over the floor, which on examination proved to be empty pill-boxes. The mystery was now unravelled: the “Doctor” was a travelling quack, and “Soapy” had been eating his pills, to which he had helped himself from the “Doctor’s” pockets. When asked how he liked the pills, he said they were “very good,” and he thought they were “only comfits” (a mixture of flour and sugar). He had abstracted and actually eaten the contents of seventeen boxes, enough to “kill six horses,” as the “Doctor” said, by reason of their powerful purgative properties. He felt “Soapy’s” pulse, and talked of the stomach-pump, which did not in the least alarm the half-wit, who declared that he “could eat a wheelbarrow full of them.”

“Well,” said the Doctor, “I would not be in your place for all the world.”

We remained over an hour after this, during which no change took place in “Soapy’s” ordinary health, and meeting him in barracks about ten days after, I asked him whether the pills had made him ill. He replied, “No, not yet, but I expect they will do so, before long.”

Chapter Twelve.Cassio.—I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow?—O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee—devil!Shakespeare.Our visits to public-houses during the winter months must not be accepted as a sign that we were loose and careless as to our morals, as we frequently attended church or chapel on such evenings as we could, in our turns, procure leave from stables, and such of the inhabitants as were attendants at these places of worship gave us every encouragement to come more frequently by opening their seat doors, and beckoning us to sit beside them. We had a library, too (as provided in every barracks), for our especial use, in which there was no lack of entertaining and useful books.There can be no question that the morals, general conduct, intelligence, and appearance of a youth are very much improved by enlistment. I know that one section, at least, of the public hold a contrary opinion. I have, however, carefully observed the habits of men, who in civil life would have degenerated into drunken reprobates, and contrasted them with the class from whence they have been enlisted, when the balance is found immeasurably superior to their companions who prefer to remain civilians. The general public imagine, that because a youth is a “worthless fellow,” or a “lazy, drunken blackguard,” before he is enlisted, that he must for ever remain so; and that, therefore, he is a fair sample of soldiers generally. Nothing can be more erroneous than this idea. A youth who has given himself up to habits of idleness, and, perhaps, drunkenness in civil life, must reform when he becomes a British soldier. He finds a master in the army, if he never had one before; his whole habits are soon changed, and his general demeanour and bearing are, in the course of a few days, seen to be such as to distinguish the effects of order and discipline from the habits and manners of an untrained rustic, or a village vagabond. It is imperative that not only the dress and appearance but the conduct of the soldier should be such as to create in the minds of all civilians, as well as the soldier himself, a respect for the military service; and though, in a few instances, cases do occur where soldiers grossly misconduct themselves, yet they are at all times most strictly enjoined to avoid being mixed in broils or disturbances, or in meetings where party or political subjects may be agitated, or where intemperance may produce argument and discussion, which lead to no useful result, but too frequently end in breaches of the public peace.I have before remarked that drunkenness is the source of almost every evil that can befall the soldier; and, although he is allowed to purchase liquor to any extent that his means allow, and his inclination may prompt him, yet he is so well aware of the severe penalty that any undue indulgence in liquor will entail upon him, that a confirmed drunkard is more rarely to be met with in a regiment than is generally supposed. Solitary confinement, or confinement in the “black hole,” are at all times reserved for cases of drunkenness; not violence or insolence to superiors. The penalty awarded by the articles of war for “habitual drunkenness” is discharge from the service with ignominy. Thus the Government prove beyond a doubt, that habitual drunkenness cannot be tolerated in the army with the same degree that we all know it to exist in civil life.When orders have been given, as the result of a court-martial, for discharging a soldier with ignominy, commonly called “drumming him out of the regiment,” the whole corps is assembled and formed in double rank, facing inwards (towards each other), one flank of each rank reaching close up to each side of the front gate, which is generally besieged by a mob of people (the fact being previously known in the neighbourhood of the barracks that a man is to be “drummed out”); thus a sort of lane is formed for the culprit to walk through, so that every soldier can see him. He is then escorted by an armed party from the guard-room; the several crimes and irregularities of which he has been guilty are read over, as also the sentence of the court-martial for his dismissal from the service; together with his discharge, in which is noticed his disgraceful conduct. The buttons, facings, lace, etc, are then stripped from his clothing, his discharge is handed to him, and he is then marched down the ranks, with the drummer behind him, to the front gate, which is closed behind him for ever; and he is launched upon society a ruined, disgraced, and broken-down individual. Soldiers serving abroad, who have been sentenced to be discharged with disgrace, are not finally discharged until they reach the depot of their regiment at home; but they are sent home as prisoners (though not kept in confinement on the passage) for the purpose of being finally discharged, in the manner above alluded to, in a few days after their arrival.Corporal punishment is but seldom inflicted now; indeed, I never saw but one man flogged, and that was for knocking down a sergeant: he had only fifty lashes, and bore it without flinching. We had three men in our regiment who had received two hundred lashes each, for being drunk on guard at a post requiring great vigilance; their backs were frightfully scored with blue ridges, or “wheals,” from the neck to the bottom of the waist. They each said that they scarcely felt the pain of infliction after the first fifty lashes; but the greatest agony of all was the application of a lotion after being taken to hospital. They were good soldiers; and, contrary to the general impression, that flogging has the effect of “debasing the mind of a soldier,” they seemed to think that they deserved it, because they knew how to avoid it.Generally speaking, soldiers would rather be flogged than handed over to the civil power, and imprisoned in a common gaol, or sentenced to a long term of “kit drill” in hot weather—the latter punishment blistering the feet, and causing as much pain as the lash on the bare back, and it has to be endured so much longer.Flogging is, however, after all, a most unfair and degrading punishment to a man who may at any time be called upon to lay down his life in the defence of his country. Sentences of corporal punishment are inflicted in the riding-school, and always at head-quarters. A triangular-shaped frame of timber is placed against the wall; the whole regiment is then assembled under arms, and with drawn swords; the culprit is brought from the guard-room, handcuffed, into the hollow square formed by his comrades; the colonel reads the particulars of his crime and sentence; he is then conducted to the triangle, and divested of his jacket and shirt; his hands are tied to the apex and his feet to the base of the triangle; the surgeon takes his stand, as also the colonel, adjutant, and other officers. The instrument of torture (cat-o’-nine-tails—a whip with nine lashes, made of catgut) is produced by the farrier-major, under whom are the requisite number of troop-farriers to inflict the punishment, so many lashes each. The culprit is considered as having expiated his offence when he shall have undergone,at one time, as much of the punishment as, in the opinion of the surgeon, he is able to bear. The idea, often promulgated by the newspapers, that a soldier who has been flogged until ordered by the surgeon to be taken down, because of his physical inability to undergo the punishment the first time, is again brought out to undergo the remainder of his punishment, is not correct. The infliction of corporal punishment a second time, under one and the same sentence, was never resorted to in the British army.The punishment of marking a deserter with the letter D is inflicted on the parade-ground in presence of the whole regiment, and under the personal superintendence of the surgeon. The operation is performed with an instrument made for the purpose, and the punishment is inflicted in the cavalry by the trumpet-major, a person who is responsible for the observance of discipline and duty of the troop-trumpeters, and in the infantry by the drum-major or bugle-major, and these are first instructed by the surgeon how to apply the instrument or ingredient (generally gunpowder or ink) properly and effectually.Flogging is the penalty of the following offences only:First.—Mutiny, insubordination, violence, or offering violence to superior officers.Second.—Drunkenness on duty.Third.—Sale of, or making away with arms, ammunition, accoutrements, clothing, or necessaries, stealing from comrades, or other disgraceful conduct.In former times, desertion was included in the above crimes, but imprisonment, and the degradation of being branded for life with the letter D, is considered a sufficient punishment.In cases where non-commissioned officers misconduct themselves, they are not confined in the guard-room, but considered as placed under arrest in their own room, without a guard over them. In serious cases, where it is necessary to hold a court-martial over them, and the offence is established, they are generally sentenced to be reduced to the rank and pay of a private, being stripped of their stripes in the presence of a parade of the whole regiment.

Cassio.—I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow?—O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee—devil!Shakespeare.

Cassio.—I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow?—O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee—devil!

Shakespeare.

Our visits to public-houses during the winter months must not be accepted as a sign that we were loose and careless as to our morals, as we frequently attended church or chapel on such evenings as we could, in our turns, procure leave from stables, and such of the inhabitants as were attendants at these places of worship gave us every encouragement to come more frequently by opening their seat doors, and beckoning us to sit beside them. We had a library, too (as provided in every barracks), for our especial use, in which there was no lack of entertaining and useful books.

There can be no question that the morals, general conduct, intelligence, and appearance of a youth are very much improved by enlistment. I know that one section, at least, of the public hold a contrary opinion. I have, however, carefully observed the habits of men, who in civil life would have degenerated into drunken reprobates, and contrasted them with the class from whence they have been enlisted, when the balance is found immeasurably superior to their companions who prefer to remain civilians. The general public imagine, that because a youth is a “worthless fellow,” or a “lazy, drunken blackguard,” before he is enlisted, that he must for ever remain so; and that, therefore, he is a fair sample of soldiers generally. Nothing can be more erroneous than this idea. A youth who has given himself up to habits of idleness, and, perhaps, drunkenness in civil life, must reform when he becomes a British soldier. He finds a master in the army, if he never had one before; his whole habits are soon changed, and his general demeanour and bearing are, in the course of a few days, seen to be such as to distinguish the effects of order and discipline from the habits and manners of an untrained rustic, or a village vagabond. It is imperative that not only the dress and appearance but the conduct of the soldier should be such as to create in the minds of all civilians, as well as the soldier himself, a respect for the military service; and though, in a few instances, cases do occur where soldiers grossly misconduct themselves, yet they are at all times most strictly enjoined to avoid being mixed in broils or disturbances, or in meetings where party or political subjects may be agitated, or where intemperance may produce argument and discussion, which lead to no useful result, but too frequently end in breaches of the public peace.

I have before remarked that drunkenness is the source of almost every evil that can befall the soldier; and, although he is allowed to purchase liquor to any extent that his means allow, and his inclination may prompt him, yet he is so well aware of the severe penalty that any undue indulgence in liquor will entail upon him, that a confirmed drunkard is more rarely to be met with in a regiment than is generally supposed. Solitary confinement, or confinement in the “black hole,” are at all times reserved for cases of drunkenness; not violence or insolence to superiors. The penalty awarded by the articles of war for “habitual drunkenness” is discharge from the service with ignominy. Thus the Government prove beyond a doubt, that habitual drunkenness cannot be tolerated in the army with the same degree that we all know it to exist in civil life.

When orders have been given, as the result of a court-martial, for discharging a soldier with ignominy, commonly called “drumming him out of the regiment,” the whole corps is assembled and formed in double rank, facing inwards (towards each other), one flank of each rank reaching close up to each side of the front gate, which is generally besieged by a mob of people (the fact being previously known in the neighbourhood of the barracks that a man is to be “drummed out”); thus a sort of lane is formed for the culprit to walk through, so that every soldier can see him. He is then escorted by an armed party from the guard-room; the several crimes and irregularities of which he has been guilty are read over, as also the sentence of the court-martial for his dismissal from the service; together with his discharge, in which is noticed his disgraceful conduct. The buttons, facings, lace, etc, are then stripped from his clothing, his discharge is handed to him, and he is then marched down the ranks, with the drummer behind him, to the front gate, which is closed behind him for ever; and he is launched upon society a ruined, disgraced, and broken-down individual. Soldiers serving abroad, who have been sentenced to be discharged with disgrace, are not finally discharged until they reach the depot of their regiment at home; but they are sent home as prisoners (though not kept in confinement on the passage) for the purpose of being finally discharged, in the manner above alluded to, in a few days after their arrival.

Corporal punishment is but seldom inflicted now; indeed, I never saw but one man flogged, and that was for knocking down a sergeant: he had only fifty lashes, and bore it without flinching. We had three men in our regiment who had received two hundred lashes each, for being drunk on guard at a post requiring great vigilance; their backs were frightfully scored with blue ridges, or “wheals,” from the neck to the bottom of the waist. They each said that they scarcely felt the pain of infliction after the first fifty lashes; but the greatest agony of all was the application of a lotion after being taken to hospital. They were good soldiers; and, contrary to the general impression, that flogging has the effect of “debasing the mind of a soldier,” they seemed to think that they deserved it, because they knew how to avoid it.

Generally speaking, soldiers would rather be flogged than handed over to the civil power, and imprisoned in a common gaol, or sentenced to a long term of “kit drill” in hot weather—the latter punishment blistering the feet, and causing as much pain as the lash on the bare back, and it has to be endured so much longer.

Flogging is, however, after all, a most unfair and degrading punishment to a man who may at any time be called upon to lay down his life in the defence of his country. Sentences of corporal punishment are inflicted in the riding-school, and always at head-quarters. A triangular-shaped frame of timber is placed against the wall; the whole regiment is then assembled under arms, and with drawn swords; the culprit is brought from the guard-room, handcuffed, into the hollow square formed by his comrades; the colonel reads the particulars of his crime and sentence; he is then conducted to the triangle, and divested of his jacket and shirt; his hands are tied to the apex and his feet to the base of the triangle; the surgeon takes his stand, as also the colonel, adjutant, and other officers. The instrument of torture (cat-o’-nine-tails—a whip with nine lashes, made of catgut) is produced by the farrier-major, under whom are the requisite number of troop-farriers to inflict the punishment, so many lashes each. The culprit is considered as having expiated his offence when he shall have undergone,at one time, as much of the punishment as, in the opinion of the surgeon, he is able to bear. The idea, often promulgated by the newspapers, that a soldier who has been flogged until ordered by the surgeon to be taken down, because of his physical inability to undergo the punishment the first time, is again brought out to undergo the remainder of his punishment, is not correct. The infliction of corporal punishment a second time, under one and the same sentence, was never resorted to in the British army.

The punishment of marking a deserter with the letter D is inflicted on the parade-ground in presence of the whole regiment, and under the personal superintendence of the surgeon. The operation is performed with an instrument made for the purpose, and the punishment is inflicted in the cavalry by the trumpet-major, a person who is responsible for the observance of discipline and duty of the troop-trumpeters, and in the infantry by the drum-major or bugle-major, and these are first instructed by the surgeon how to apply the instrument or ingredient (generally gunpowder or ink) properly and effectually.

Flogging is the penalty of the following offences only:

First.—Mutiny, insubordination, violence, or offering violence to superior officers.

Second.—Drunkenness on duty.

Third.—Sale of, or making away with arms, ammunition, accoutrements, clothing, or necessaries, stealing from comrades, or other disgraceful conduct.

In former times, desertion was included in the above crimes, but imprisonment, and the degradation of being branded for life with the letter D, is considered a sufficient punishment.

In cases where non-commissioned officers misconduct themselves, they are not confined in the guard-room, but considered as placed under arrest in their own room, without a guard over them. In serious cases, where it is necessary to hold a court-martial over them, and the offence is established, they are generally sentenced to be reduced to the rank and pay of a private, being stripped of their stripes in the presence of a parade of the whole regiment.

Chapter Thirteen.Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial.The sergeant; to whom I alluded in a former chapter as having deserted from Liverpool, where he was stationed in command of a recruiting party, was the first non-commissioned officer that ever I witnessed “broke” and reduced to the ranks. It was two years after the corporal with whom he deserted gave himself up, and the regiment was then stationed at York. The sergeant had been to the “gold diggings” in California, or part way there; but, after a great deal of privation and suffering, he resolved to come to England again and run his chance of being taken as a deserter. Landing in Liverpool, spirit-broken, and with but little money in his pocket, he set out for his native place, somewhere near Sheffield, travelling by railway; and having to change carriages at Victoria Station, Manchester, he was recognised by our adjutant (the son of a Liverpool brewer), who had been on a visit to his friends, and of course given into the custody of the police until an escort could be sent to bring him to head-quarters. He was tried by court-martial in the ordinary course, and, having made away with all his regimental clothing, kit, necessaries, and some money belonging to the regiment, he was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment in York gaol, and reduced to the rank and pay of a private soldier. Some months after he had returned to his duty, I was on guard with him one very cold night in the depth of winter. We were sitting round the guard-room fire waiting for our turn to go on sentry. The ex-sergeant, was dull and morose generally, and more especially when on guard; “the time above all times,” he used to say, when he reflected the most upon his disgrace, was as he paced to and fro in the dark and deep stillness of a winter’s night. We had a gay young Irishman in the same relief, Jerry O’Neil, who had told several good stories in the course of the night and so got the party into good spirits. Singing was not allowed in the guard-room; and, therefore, story-telling was always the most approved method of entertainment. We had each told our story, and it came round to Brailsford’s turn (that was his name); and, now that he was a private soldier, he was always addressed by his surname, like the rest of us. The fire was replenished, pipes reloaded, and both the corporal and sergeant of the guard drew dearer to the hearth, so as to hear the ex-sergeant relate an incident that occurred to him on his way to the “diggings,” the substance of which I have reduced, and endeavoured to render in a readable form.“You are all aware, boys,” began the ex-sergeant, “that I deserted in a moment of temptation, and with Corporal — went to America. Soon after our arrival in New York, the corporal left me to go to some of his friends in the state of Ohio, and I was left to shift for myself, intending to get some kind of situation in New York. Having plenty of money, however, to keep me in idleness for some time, I joined a party of ‘gold-seekers,’ who were going by the overland route to California. I formed one of six men. We had six horses, three pack-mules, and two dogs; and, although we journeyed for days with the heavy plodding ox-teams of the main body of our party, and intended to keep their company more or less all the way, yet we were equipped for, and intended to have some hunting and sport, diverging from the main track in the morning, and sometimes returning to it some distance ahead, so as to fall in with our party in the evening. Frequently, however, we missed the track; or, having game in view, we slept away from the main body.“One bright summer morning we were up and broke camp earlier than usual. Old Ben Walton, our captain and guide, to whom these wilds were home, had promised that this day we should strike the great buffalo trail, by which mighty herds of those animals migrate from their winter pasturage in the south to fatten on the prairies of Utah and Oregon. For several days we had been separated from the rest of the party, and found ourselves, according to Ben’s calculation, on one of those great dry prairies that skirt the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, near the northern boundary of New Mexico; we were suffering from want of water, the last quart remaining in my canteen I had shared with my horse in the morning. It was now mid-day, and our course lay due east, beneath a broiling sun; the plain was dry and parched, and it seemed that if we could not get into the track of our head-quarters, or find water, both man and beast must soon give way. Old Ben promised us water within a few miles, and we jogged on as fast as we could urge our half-famished horses. About four o’clock in the afternoon we came upon one of those singular ravines which the spring floods wash out of the loose soil of these prairies; the banks were perpendicular, the ravine about twenty feet deep, and from twenty to thirty yards wide, and in the sand and gravel bottom we beheld the welcome water, not a running stream, but standing in small limpid pools. The sight was very cheering, yet still it was out of our reach; we turned our course to the south, down the bank of the ravine; continuing thus for near a mile, we came upon a deep, wide pathway or gully worn by the hoofs of the buffaloes, and leading down to the bottom of the ravine. With a wild shout of joy we dashed down, and soon man, horse, and dog were regaling themselves at these delicious fountains of Nature.“Kettles were swung, and in a few minuted the fragrant coffee, and boiling pemmican (dried buffalo beef, pounded) saluted our nostrils and whetted our appetites. All were busy, some unloading mules, others gathering fuel—the dried droppings of the buffalo, the only fuel of the plain, burning like turf. As we finished our meal, night was coming on, and Ben had advised us all to prepare for rest, when a low, rumbling sound, like distant thunder, started us all to our feet. As the sky was clear overhead, we were at a loss to account for the strange noise, until Ben, throwing his ear to the ground shouted,—“‘Buffaloes! Mount!’“The order was scarcely delivered before every man was in his saddle, and following Ben up the gully at full speed. On reaching the plain we had not long before crossed, a terrific sight to novices in prairie-life broke upon our vision.“Away in the distance was a great brown mass, undulating like a sea, and extending miles in each direction. A cloud of dust hung above the mighty herd of buffaloes, darkening the sky. Already they snuffed the water, and were approaching at full speed. A glance was enough for Ben. Wheeling his horse again into the ravine, he shouted for all to follow. His practised eye saw that they were making for the water-course, and in a few moments, if we remained, we should be trampled to death.“I thought that the hurried manner in which Ben ordered us to re-pack the mules and run up the ravine had something of cowardice in it. It would have been well for me had I partaken of this fear. While my more sensible companions hastened after Ben up the bottom of the ravine, I spurred my horse up the steep path to have another look—I even thought of bagging a few buffaloes, to astonish old Ben. When I reached the level of the plain, I witnessed such a sight as I shall never forget—a moving wall of life! and, within a few yards of me, grizzly, shaggy monsters, with heads to the ground, and tails erect, bellowing like an earthquake, throwing white froth from their parched mouths, while their tread seemed to shake the very earth. With a sudden start my horse reared, twisting round upon his haunches, and, wheeling round, he dashed down the pathway; and, before I could regain my presence of mind, he was galloping at the top of his speed down the ravine, in a contrary direction to that taken by my comrades, who were now out of sight. For nearly a mile he held his headlong course, until a turn in the channel brought me in sight of a new danger.“The herd had divided upon the plain, and thousands were crowding down another pathway below me, choking up the ravine with a dense, impenetrable living mass. This new barrier enabled me to control my horse; turning him round I scanned the high bank on each side for an opening of escape. All was vain! There was not a place for a cat to crawl up, and here was coming on either side a mass of buffaloes that would soon crush me between them. A few stragglers, more speedy than the rest, came first, crowding their noses into the little pools of water, and sucking them dry in a moment. Now the mass behind came sweeping like a mighty torrent, completely choking up the narrow ravine. There was no escape; and in less time than it takes me to tell you, boys, I was forced between the two divisions, and my frantic horse made a part of the living stream. The air was filled with sand, gravel, and froth. The hot breath from the feverish mass rose like steam, and sickened me. I felt that I must fall, not to the ground (there was no room for that), but upon the backs of the crushing, sweltering, reeking mass. A furious old bull gored my poor horse in the flank; again and again he plunged his short, sharp, strong horn into my dying horse until his entrails were torn out. I felt him giving way beneath me, his strength almost gone; still he was carried along by the crush. We came to a slight widening of the ravine and the pressure was relieved, but my lifeless horse sank to the earth, and was trampled to a jelly in a moment. As I felt him going, I sprang from the saddle, and landed erect upon the backs of the rushing, ramping buffaloes. I fell, but recovered myself before I came to the ground. At last I landed and lay at full length upon the back of a huge beast; with a feeling of desperation I twisted my hands into his mane, and on with the heaving torrent, my wild courser, mad with terror, throws his head wildly about, tearing the sides of all within his reach, and sprinkling me with a shower of froth and gore.”

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial.

The sergeant; to whom I alluded in a former chapter as having deserted from Liverpool, where he was stationed in command of a recruiting party, was the first non-commissioned officer that ever I witnessed “broke” and reduced to the ranks. It was two years after the corporal with whom he deserted gave himself up, and the regiment was then stationed at York. The sergeant had been to the “gold diggings” in California, or part way there; but, after a great deal of privation and suffering, he resolved to come to England again and run his chance of being taken as a deserter. Landing in Liverpool, spirit-broken, and with but little money in his pocket, he set out for his native place, somewhere near Sheffield, travelling by railway; and having to change carriages at Victoria Station, Manchester, he was recognised by our adjutant (the son of a Liverpool brewer), who had been on a visit to his friends, and of course given into the custody of the police until an escort could be sent to bring him to head-quarters. He was tried by court-martial in the ordinary course, and, having made away with all his regimental clothing, kit, necessaries, and some money belonging to the regiment, he was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment in York gaol, and reduced to the rank and pay of a private soldier. Some months after he had returned to his duty, I was on guard with him one very cold night in the depth of winter. We were sitting round the guard-room fire waiting for our turn to go on sentry. The ex-sergeant, was dull and morose generally, and more especially when on guard; “the time above all times,” he used to say, when he reflected the most upon his disgrace, was as he paced to and fro in the dark and deep stillness of a winter’s night. We had a gay young Irishman in the same relief, Jerry O’Neil, who had told several good stories in the course of the night and so got the party into good spirits. Singing was not allowed in the guard-room; and, therefore, story-telling was always the most approved method of entertainment. We had each told our story, and it came round to Brailsford’s turn (that was his name); and, now that he was a private soldier, he was always addressed by his surname, like the rest of us. The fire was replenished, pipes reloaded, and both the corporal and sergeant of the guard drew dearer to the hearth, so as to hear the ex-sergeant relate an incident that occurred to him on his way to the “diggings,” the substance of which I have reduced, and endeavoured to render in a readable form.

“You are all aware, boys,” began the ex-sergeant, “that I deserted in a moment of temptation, and with Corporal — went to America. Soon after our arrival in New York, the corporal left me to go to some of his friends in the state of Ohio, and I was left to shift for myself, intending to get some kind of situation in New York. Having plenty of money, however, to keep me in idleness for some time, I joined a party of ‘gold-seekers,’ who were going by the overland route to California. I formed one of six men. We had six horses, three pack-mules, and two dogs; and, although we journeyed for days with the heavy plodding ox-teams of the main body of our party, and intended to keep their company more or less all the way, yet we were equipped for, and intended to have some hunting and sport, diverging from the main track in the morning, and sometimes returning to it some distance ahead, so as to fall in with our party in the evening. Frequently, however, we missed the track; or, having game in view, we slept away from the main body.

“One bright summer morning we were up and broke camp earlier than usual. Old Ben Walton, our captain and guide, to whom these wilds were home, had promised that this day we should strike the great buffalo trail, by which mighty herds of those animals migrate from their winter pasturage in the south to fatten on the prairies of Utah and Oregon. For several days we had been separated from the rest of the party, and found ourselves, according to Ben’s calculation, on one of those great dry prairies that skirt the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, near the northern boundary of New Mexico; we were suffering from want of water, the last quart remaining in my canteen I had shared with my horse in the morning. It was now mid-day, and our course lay due east, beneath a broiling sun; the plain was dry and parched, and it seemed that if we could not get into the track of our head-quarters, or find water, both man and beast must soon give way. Old Ben promised us water within a few miles, and we jogged on as fast as we could urge our half-famished horses. About four o’clock in the afternoon we came upon one of those singular ravines which the spring floods wash out of the loose soil of these prairies; the banks were perpendicular, the ravine about twenty feet deep, and from twenty to thirty yards wide, and in the sand and gravel bottom we beheld the welcome water, not a running stream, but standing in small limpid pools. The sight was very cheering, yet still it was out of our reach; we turned our course to the south, down the bank of the ravine; continuing thus for near a mile, we came upon a deep, wide pathway or gully worn by the hoofs of the buffaloes, and leading down to the bottom of the ravine. With a wild shout of joy we dashed down, and soon man, horse, and dog were regaling themselves at these delicious fountains of Nature.

“Kettles were swung, and in a few minuted the fragrant coffee, and boiling pemmican (dried buffalo beef, pounded) saluted our nostrils and whetted our appetites. All were busy, some unloading mules, others gathering fuel—the dried droppings of the buffalo, the only fuel of the plain, burning like turf. As we finished our meal, night was coming on, and Ben had advised us all to prepare for rest, when a low, rumbling sound, like distant thunder, started us all to our feet. As the sky was clear overhead, we were at a loss to account for the strange noise, until Ben, throwing his ear to the ground shouted,—

“‘Buffaloes! Mount!’

“The order was scarcely delivered before every man was in his saddle, and following Ben up the gully at full speed. On reaching the plain we had not long before crossed, a terrific sight to novices in prairie-life broke upon our vision.

“Away in the distance was a great brown mass, undulating like a sea, and extending miles in each direction. A cloud of dust hung above the mighty herd of buffaloes, darkening the sky. Already they snuffed the water, and were approaching at full speed. A glance was enough for Ben. Wheeling his horse again into the ravine, he shouted for all to follow. His practised eye saw that they were making for the water-course, and in a few moments, if we remained, we should be trampled to death.

“I thought that the hurried manner in which Ben ordered us to re-pack the mules and run up the ravine had something of cowardice in it. It would have been well for me had I partaken of this fear. While my more sensible companions hastened after Ben up the bottom of the ravine, I spurred my horse up the steep path to have another look—I even thought of bagging a few buffaloes, to astonish old Ben. When I reached the level of the plain, I witnessed such a sight as I shall never forget—a moving wall of life! and, within a few yards of me, grizzly, shaggy monsters, with heads to the ground, and tails erect, bellowing like an earthquake, throwing white froth from their parched mouths, while their tread seemed to shake the very earth. With a sudden start my horse reared, twisting round upon his haunches, and, wheeling round, he dashed down the pathway; and, before I could regain my presence of mind, he was galloping at the top of his speed down the ravine, in a contrary direction to that taken by my comrades, who were now out of sight. For nearly a mile he held his headlong course, until a turn in the channel brought me in sight of a new danger.

“The herd had divided upon the plain, and thousands were crowding down another pathway below me, choking up the ravine with a dense, impenetrable living mass. This new barrier enabled me to control my horse; turning him round I scanned the high bank on each side for an opening of escape. All was vain! There was not a place for a cat to crawl up, and here was coming on either side a mass of buffaloes that would soon crush me between them. A few stragglers, more speedy than the rest, came first, crowding their noses into the little pools of water, and sucking them dry in a moment. Now the mass behind came sweeping like a mighty torrent, completely choking up the narrow ravine. There was no escape; and in less time than it takes me to tell you, boys, I was forced between the two divisions, and my frantic horse made a part of the living stream. The air was filled with sand, gravel, and froth. The hot breath from the feverish mass rose like steam, and sickened me. I felt that I must fall, not to the ground (there was no room for that), but upon the backs of the crushing, sweltering, reeking mass. A furious old bull gored my poor horse in the flank; again and again he plunged his short, sharp, strong horn into my dying horse until his entrails were torn out. I felt him giving way beneath me, his strength almost gone; still he was carried along by the crush. We came to a slight widening of the ravine and the pressure was relieved, but my lifeless horse sank to the earth, and was trampled to a jelly in a moment. As I felt him going, I sprang from the saddle, and landed erect upon the backs of the rushing, ramping buffaloes. I fell, but recovered myself before I came to the ground. At last I landed and lay at full length upon the back of a huge beast; with a feeling of desperation I twisted my hands into his mane, and on with the heaving torrent, my wild courser, mad with terror, throws his head wildly about, tearing the sides of all within his reach, and sprinkling me with a shower of froth and gore.”

Chapter Fourteen.We rustled through the leaves like wind,Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind.“On went the buffalo, tearing and crushing all before and around him. How long this lasted I know not; but, although I was very weak, stunned, and nearly blinded, I still madly clung to him! to fall would be certain death. At length he darted up a narrow gully upon the side of the valley from which we had entered it, and dashed off across the open plain. The cold breeze revived me a little, and I began to cherish a hope of life. I gradually drew myself into a sitting position, and began to feel the want of a saddle badly; it required all my nerve, strength, and skill to retain my seat. I could not turn to look back, and dared not slip from the beast for fear of meeting with the fate of my poor horse—not knowing but the whole herd was close in my wake. For miles we held our course, until the silence convinced me that we were alone. I began to reflect on the best means of ending the fearful race. I had bought a revolver and a large bowie-knife in New York, and these I had stuck in my belt, but to wound and not kill the monster would he to expose myself to certain death, as nothing is more terrible than a wounded buffalo. I decided upon the knife as the surest. My bowie was as keen as a razor, with a blade near twelve inches long. I drew it, and, twisting my left hand into the brute’s mane, I gradually leaned down over his shoulders, pressed the point of my knife against the side of his neck, and, with all my strength, thrust it in and down. Thank goodness, the monster began to tremble, the blood gushed forth, he reeled, and with a terrific plunge on his knees, sent me flying over his head on to the springing turf. I remained still to see if he was able to rise. He once or twice attempted it, but when half upon his legs he dropped from exhaustion and loss of blood, and the mountain of flesh lay quivering in the agonies of death.“I knew not how far I had ridden: my mind was in confusion, and every joint in my frame seemed as if about to snap asunder. I stood upon the body of the dead buffalo and gazed about me. Night was fast closing in, and there was nothing in sight but sky and plain. I felt then for the first time as if alone in the wide world; not a vestige of man or his handiwork was visible. Alone with nature, the stillness to me was painful; even the carcase of the slain brute seemed company, and I determined to remain by it until morning, I felt that with the darkness gathering round, and in my exhausted state, to attempt to reach my comrades that night, even if I knew the direction, would be useless. This point decided, I gathered a quantity of fuel, and soon a blazing fire sent its cheerful glow around me, making the gloom beyond the circle of its rays still more impenetrable. I cut some slices of the buffalo’s tongue and broiled them upon the fire, and of these, seasoned with salt from my pouch, and eaten with some parched corn from the same receptacle, I made a hearty meal.“My lodgings gave me no uneasiness; so, after gathering a further supply of fuel to make up a good fire for the purpose of intimidating the wolves, that I judged would be drawn by the scent of fresh meat, I placed myself upon the ground, my feet to the fire, and my head and shoulders resting upon the body of the still warm animal. My mind was easy as to the future, though my conscience pricked me when I reflected upon the past. I knew that old Ben had his own reasons for liking me, as I had more money than all the rest of the hunting party together; and I felt sure that he would never leave the vicinity until satisfied of my fate. With this reflection I fell asleep.“During the night, I was once awoke by the snarling of a pack of wolves. My fire had burned low, and they were gathered in great numbers about me. I had no fear of them; for Ben had told me that the prairie wolf is a cowardly animal, and will seldom molest a man, unless driven to it by famine. For revenge, however, at being disturbed, I fired my revolver among them. A howl of pain followed; then yells and a gnashing of teeth, tearing of flesh, and crunching of bones, enough to convince me that I had hit one or more of them. It is a singular fact, that when blood is once drawn from one of these animals, the others instantly set upon and devour it.“After replenishing my fire and reloading my revolver, I again lay down, watching the smoke which rose in the stillness of the atmosphere like a column, then spreading out, it formed the only cloud visible. I slept undisturbed until daylight.“On my awaking, I found myself very stiff and sore, and came to the conclusion, over my breakfast of broiled buffalo-steak, to remain where I was until my friends sought me. I was aware that a smoke would be visible many miles in the clear air of the plains; and I covered my fire with grass and soil wet with the morning dew. Soon a dense white steam ascended, which I felt sure must attract attention. And so it did, but not exactly in the quarter I would have chosen; for, scarce had I finished my repast, when I saw in the distance a horseman rapidly approaching. I felt sure it was Ben, and was inwardly congratulating myself on a pleasant meeting with my comrades, when the strange movements of the fast approaching person attracted my attention not a little. Instead of coming in a direct line, he took a circular course, gradually drawing nearer, and lessening the circle around me; and I soon saw that it was an Indian, mounted on a splendid horse. The way I saw him handling his rifle convinced me that his morning call would not be a very agreeable one to me. I had lost my rifle with my horse: true, I had a Colt’s revolver—the best weapon ever invented for close quarters; but against his long range the odds were sadly against me.“Tearing a piece of white linen from my shirt sleeve, I waved it above my head as a flag of truce. While in the very act, the tawny rascal raised his rifle and fired. I heard the bullet whistle past my head. Finding that he had missed his mark, he galloped back some distance to reload. This gave me a moment for reflection. As the scoundrel had fired upon my flag of truce, I felt justified in killing him if I could. Throwing myself down behind my barricade of beef, I examined my revolver and drew my knife, determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. Cautiously looking over the body of the buffalo, I saw him drawing near; he saw the motion, and was about to fire, when I withdrew my head. After a few moments’ silence I could plainly hear the panting breath of his horse, and detected the click of his gun-lock. The rascal knew very well that to fire on him I must expose myself, and now stood waiting his prey. Placing my fur-cap upon the point of my knife, I gradually raised it above the carcase of the buffalo. Therusesucceeded: when he fired, I dropped the cap and gave a loud groan. With a yell he sprung from his horse, with the evident intention of transferring my scalp to his belt—a proceeding I had a decided objection to, and, moreover, I felt that this was the proper time to urge it. As I heard his footsteps approaching, I rose, to his very great astonishment, and pulled the trigger of my revolver; he staggered; another shot eased him of his pain, and I was again alone. No, boys, not alone, for a few yards off stood his horse, tethered to the arm of his defunct master, by a few yards of buffalo hide. I had no trouble in securing him, and a beauty he was. Gathering up some trifles which the dead Indian could have no further use for, such as a rifle, tomahawk, etc, I knocked off a horn from the buffalo as a trophy. I mounted, and, turning towards the rising sun, set the horse off at a brisk canter. Knowing that the instinct of the animal would take him to the water, I gave him his head, and I was right: an hour’s ride brought me to the ravine. I soon found a path to descend, but I examined the horizon well for buffaloes before I trusted myself in the gulf.“Finding all clear, I rode down to the water, and, after refreshing myself and my horse, I took my course up stream. A trot of a few miles and a turn of the water-course brought me in sight of my friends, encamped near the mangled remains of my horse, and holding a consultation as to my probable fate. I received a warm greeting from all, and tears ran down old Ben’s cheeks as he pressed me to his heart. Over our evening meal I related my story. Ben listened to the finish. ‘So you shot a Camanche—eh?’ ‘Yes, Ben,’ said I. ‘Well,’ replied he, ‘you that are on duty to-night had better keep your eyes open, for we shall hear more of this day’s work.’ ‘How could I help doing it, Ben?’ said I. ‘Wal, I s’pose you couldn’t.’ With this complimentary remark, he knocked the ashes from his pipe, wrapped himself in his blanket, and fell asleep. When the fire was made, and two of the party had been placed as sentries, and enjoined to keep a sharp look-out for ‘Camanches,’ I followed his example.“Nothing occurred to disturb us during the night except the howling of the wolves, to which we were now getting pretty well accustomed. And, after making a hearty breakfast, we considered it advisable to join the main body of our party as soon as possible; as, on the discovery of the dead body of one of their tribe, the Camanches would be sure to attack any detached parties like ours, found in small numbers, in which case we might probably lose our scalps. After riding all day, we at length found the main track, and soon discerned the smoke from their encampment for the night. The story was related again after supper, the whole party anxiously listening to every word. When I had finished, a tall, masculine-looking woman, who usually had charge of one of the wagons and oxen, struck up with a story for our amusement.“‘When I was a gal,’ she commenced, and went on in the pure American dialect, ‘and even arter I married my man—poor fellow! he’s gone long ago—I used to go out in the woods arter the deer that our hunters had killed and hung up, so that they could go on killin’ without losin’ time; and I used to bring ’em in, skin ’em, and jerk ’em, too. And that warn’t all: I allers attended the wolf-traps, and all sitch like. There’s but few mortal men livin’ now what’s seen as much fun a killin’ wolves as I have. Whenever we got one fast in a trap, me and the dogs, we was allers good for him in double-quick time; but occasionally we got a little more than we bargained for. I recollect one time, little Josey (that’s my oldest boy) and me, we went to a trap, and found the surliest-lookin’ old “bar” (bear) in all creation fast in it by one hind-leg. “Turk” and “Rome” (them was our dogs), they mounted him, and began to do their best to kill him, and Josey and me sick’t ’em on, and slapped our hands, but they weren’t no more than fleas in his ear. He boxed ’em about hither and thither jest as he liked, till at last he got ’em both in his hug, and I seed he was a squeezin’ the life out en ’em; so I told Josey to stop by a big tree, and then I took the axe (for I hadn’t nothin’ else with me), and run up to help the dogs. By the time I got up to him he’d laid one of ’em cold, and had t’other in a purty fair way. I let drive at his head; but he up with one paw and knocked the axe out of my hand about ten steps. This kinder staggered me, so I felt down like; and the next thing I know’d, the “bar” was a top o’ me. I tusselled with him as hard as I could, you may be sure; but it warn’t of much use. He squeezed me tighter and tighter, and I begun to think it was all over with me, and my little Josey screeching like mad, when up came my ole man, and cut the bar’s wozzen from ear to ear. He’d hearn the noise the dogs and little Josey made, and knowin’ there must be somethin’ more than common, he’d run out. As soon as the “bar” was dead, he bust out into a loud laugh, and, said he, “You’re a purty woman to be caught out here in the woods huggin’ a bar, ain’t you?” But poor old Rome! we couldn’t fetch him to life any more. The bar had crushed all the bones in his body. I recollect another shindy I had when attending the traps. It was some time arter the “bar” scrape. Just afore I got in sight of a trap, I hearn Turk, what had trotted ahead of me, a makin’ a dreadful queer kind of a whinin’ noise. I ses, ses I, to myself, there must be something wrong with Turk; so I hurried up as fast as I could. And, shure enough there was too. The biggest eagle I ever hearn tell on was a standin’ with one claw fast in the trap and t’other clamp up around Turk’s nose so fast that he couldn’t no more open his mouth than he could a whistled if it had been open. There he stood, with all his legs poked for’ard, a yankin’ back, and a makin’ all the noise he possibly could. I hunted up a stick, and, after a heap of trouble, I got the life manted out of it; but even then it wouldn’t let go its hold on Turk’s nose, nor could I get him loose till I’d took my knife and cut its claw off. Turk was always shy of eagles from that time.“‘I never was frightened much by any of the backwoods varmint but once, and then I was but a young gal. Tom Ennis had gone up to Louisville with a load of skins, and it was so far he couldn’t make it back the same day; so Sally (that was Tom’s wife) she got me to go over to their cabin and stay with her all night for company. Sally had a young baby that weren’t very well, so it kept up such a crying that we couldn’t sleep for it. I recollect we had the bed made up on the floor. In the middle of the night we hearn somethin’ about on the boards of the roof, a scrapin’ and scratchin’ as if a tryin’ to get in. The moon was shinin’ atween the boards, and by the light of it we soon seed, whatever the thing might be, that it had got the board slipt aside enough so it could poke a great heavy paw down. Well, it worked on like a trooper, and directly we saw a big whiskery-lookin’ head, poked through, and two fiery eyes a glarin’ down at us. A little longer, and the hole was big enough to admit its body, and in he bounced on to the floor of the cabin, the biggest kind of an old he-panther. You’d better believe there was a couple of folks scart enough then, for we knowed the cries of the baby had attracted its attention, and it had come on purpose to make a meal out’n some of us. We covered up our heads, and laid there with our hearts a thumping. The panther sat down by the side of our bed, and wriggled his tail a bit, and then he begun to pat us gently with his paws, as if he wanted to play afore eatin’ us, like a cat does with a mouse when she ain’t very hungry. Just then, Sally, who was so scart that she didn’t know what she was at, gave a loud scream, and flirted the blanket right off’n us on to the panther. The movement, being so sudden and so unlooked for, gave the varmint a dreadful scare, and up through the hole he went, like a kite. That was the last we saw or heerd of him, and you may be sartain we were satisfied.’”The ex-sergeant promised to relate more of his adventures on his way to and from the gold diggings on a future occasion. But the corporal with whom he deserted having frequently written to him since he was taken, at last purchased his discharge, and started him in business at Sheffield; so we saw no more of him after he left the regiment.

We rustled through the leaves like wind,Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind.

We rustled through the leaves like wind,Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind.

“On went the buffalo, tearing and crushing all before and around him. How long this lasted I know not; but, although I was very weak, stunned, and nearly blinded, I still madly clung to him! to fall would be certain death. At length he darted up a narrow gully upon the side of the valley from which we had entered it, and dashed off across the open plain. The cold breeze revived me a little, and I began to cherish a hope of life. I gradually drew myself into a sitting position, and began to feel the want of a saddle badly; it required all my nerve, strength, and skill to retain my seat. I could not turn to look back, and dared not slip from the beast for fear of meeting with the fate of my poor horse—not knowing but the whole herd was close in my wake. For miles we held our course, until the silence convinced me that we were alone. I began to reflect on the best means of ending the fearful race. I had bought a revolver and a large bowie-knife in New York, and these I had stuck in my belt, but to wound and not kill the monster would he to expose myself to certain death, as nothing is more terrible than a wounded buffalo. I decided upon the knife as the surest. My bowie was as keen as a razor, with a blade near twelve inches long. I drew it, and, twisting my left hand into the brute’s mane, I gradually leaned down over his shoulders, pressed the point of my knife against the side of his neck, and, with all my strength, thrust it in and down. Thank goodness, the monster began to tremble, the blood gushed forth, he reeled, and with a terrific plunge on his knees, sent me flying over his head on to the springing turf. I remained still to see if he was able to rise. He once or twice attempted it, but when half upon his legs he dropped from exhaustion and loss of blood, and the mountain of flesh lay quivering in the agonies of death.

“I knew not how far I had ridden: my mind was in confusion, and every joint in my frame seemed as if about to snap asunder. I stood upon the body of the dead buffalo and gazed about me. Night was fast closing in, and there was nothing in sight but sky and plain. I felt then for the first time as if alone in the wide world; not a vestige of man or his handiwork was visible. Alone with nature, the stillness to me was painful; even the carcase of the slain brute seemed company, and I determined to remain by it until morning, I felt that with the darkness gathering round, and in my exhausted state, to attempt to reach my comrades that night, even if I knew the direction, would be useless. This point decided, I gathered a quantity of fuel, and soon a blazing fire sent its cheerful glow around me, making the gloom beyond the circle of its rays still more impenetrable. I cut some slices of the buffalo’s tongue and broiled them upon the fire, and of these, seasoned with salt from my pouch, and eaten with some parched corn from the same receptacle, I made a hearty meal.

“My lodgings gave me no uneasiness; so, after gathering a further supply of fuel to make up a good fire for the purpose of intimidating the wolves, that I judged would be drawn by the scent of fresh meat, I placed myself upon the ground, my feet to the fire, and my head and shoulders resting upon the body of the still warm animal. My mind was easy as to the future, though my conscience pricked me when I reflected upon the past. I knew that old Ben had his own reasons for liking me, as I had more money than all the rest of the hunting party together; and I felt sure that he would never leave the vicinity until satisfied of my fate. With this reflection I fell asleep.

“During the night, I was once awoke by the snarling of a pack of wolves. My fire had burned low, and they were gathered in great numbers about me. I had no fear of them; for Ben had told me that the prairie wolf is a cowardly animal, and will seldom molest a man, unless driven to it by famine. For revenge, however, at being disturbed, I fired my revolver among them. A howl of pain followed; then yells and a gnashing of teeth, tearing of flesh, and crunching of bones, enough to convince me that I had hit one or more of them. It is a singular fact, that when blood is once drawn from one of these animals, the others instantly set upon and devour it.

“After replenishing my fire and reloading my revolver, I again lay down, watching the smoke which rose in the stillness of the atmosphere like a column, then spreading out, it formed the only cloud visible. I slept undisturbed until daylight.

“On my awaking, I found myself very stiff and sore, and came to the conclusion, over my breakfast of broiled buffalo-steak, to remain where I was until my friends sought me. I was aware that a smoke would be visible many miles in the clear air of the plains; and I covered my fire with grass and soil wet with the morning dew. Soon a dense white steam ascended, which I felt sure must attract attention. And so it did, but not exactly in the quarter I would have chosen; for, scarce had I finished my repast, when I saw in the distance a horseman rapidly approaching. I felt sure it was Ben, and was inwardly congratulating myself on a pleasant meeting with my comrades, when the strange movements of the fast approaching person attracted my attention not a little. Instead of coming in a direct line, he took a circular course, gradually drawing nearer, and lessening the circle around me; and I soon saw that it was an Indian, mounted on a splendid horse. The way I saw him handling his rifle convinced me that his morning call would not be a very agreeable one to me. I had lost my rifle with my horse: true, I had a Colt’s revolver—the best weapon ever invented for close quarters; but against his long range the odds were sadly against me.

“Tearing a piece of white linen from my shirt sleeve, I waved it above my head as a flag of truce. While in the very act, the tawny rascal raised his rifle and fired. I heard the bullet whistle past my head. Finding that he had missed his mark, he galloped back some distance to reload. This gave me a moment for reflection. As the scoundrel had fired upon my flag of truce, I felt justified in killing him if I could. Throwing myself down behind my barricade of beef, I examined my revolver and drew my knife, determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. Cautiously looking over the body of the buffalo, I saw him drawing near; he saw the motion, and was about to fire, when I withdrew my head. After a few moments’ silence I could plainly hear the panting breath of his horse, and detected the click of his gun-lock. The rascal knew very well that to fire on him I must expose myself, and now stood waiting his prey. Placing my fur-cap upon the point of my knife, I gradually raised it above the carcase of the buffalo. Therusesucceeded: when he fired, I dropped the cap and gave a loud groan. With a yell he sprung from his horse, with the evident intention of transferring my scalp to his belt—a proceeding I had a decided objection to, and, moreover, I felt that this was the proper time to urge it. As I heard his footsteps approaching, I rose, to his very great astonishment, and pulled the trigger of my revolver; he staggered; another shot eased him of his pain, and I was again alone. No, boys, not alone, for a few yards off stood his horse, tethered to the arm of his defunct master, by a few yards of buffalo hide. I had no trouble in securing him, and a beauty he was. Gathering up some trifles which the dead Indian could have no further use for, such as a rifle, tomahawk, etc, I knocked off a horn from the buffalo as a trophy. I mounted, and, turning towards the rising sun, set the horse off at a brisk canter. Knowing that the instinct of the animal would take him to the water, I gave him his head, and I was right: an hour’s ride brought me to the ravine. I soon found a path to descend, but I examined the horizon well for buffaloes before I trusted myself in the gulf.

“Finding all clear, I rode down to the water, and, after refreshing myself and my horse, I took my course up stream. A trot of a few miles and a turn of the water-course brought me in sight of my friends, encamped near the mangled remains of my horse, and holding a consultation as to my probable fate. I received a warm greeting from all, and tears ran down old Ben’s cheeks as he pressed me to his heart. Over our evening meal I related my story. Ben listened to the finish. ‘So you shot a Camanche—eh?’ ‘Yes, Ben,’ said I. ‘Well,’ replied he, ‘you that are on duty to-night had better keep your eyes open, for we shall hear more of this day’s work.’ ‘How could I help doing it, Ben?’ said I. ‘Wal, I s’pose you couldn’t.’ With this complimentary remark, he knocked the ashes from his pipe, wrapped himself in his blanket, and fell asleep. When the fire was made, and two of the party had been placed as sentries, and enjoined to keep a sharp look-out for ‘Camanches,’ I followed his example.

“Nothing occurred to disturb us during the night except the howling of the wolves, to which we were now getting pretty well accustomed. And, after making a hearty breakfast, we considered it advisable to join the main body of our party as soon as possible; as, on the discovery of the dead body of one of their tribe, the Camanches would be sure to attack any detached parties like ours, found in small numbers, in which case we might probably lose our scalps. After riding all day, we at length found the main track, and soon discerned the smoke from their encampment for the night. The story was related again after supper, the whole party anxiously listening to every word. When I had finished, a tall, masculine-looking woman, who usually had charge of one of the wagons and oxen, struck up with a story for our amusement.

“‘When I was a gal,’ she commenced, and went on in the pure American dialect, ‘and even arter I married my man—poor fellow! he’s gone long ago—I used to go out in the woods arter the deer that our hunters had killed and hung up, so that they could go on killin’ without losin’ time; and I used to bring ’em in, skin ’em, and jerk ’em, too. And that warn’t all: I allers attended the wolf-traps, and all sitch like. There’s but few mortal men livin’ now what’s seen as much fun a killin’ wolves as I have. Whenever we got one fast in a trap, me and the dogs, we was allers good for him in double-quick time; but occasionally we got a little more than we bargained for. I recollect one time, little Josey (that’s my oldest boy) and me, we went to a trap, and found the surliest-lookin’ old “bar” (bear) in all creation fast in it by one hind-leg. “Turk” and “Rome” (them was our dogs), they mounted him, and began to do their best to kill him, and Josey and me sick’t ’em on, and slapped our hands, but they weren’t no more than fleas in his ear. He boxed ’em about hither and thither jest as he liked, till at last he got ’em both in his hug, and I seed he was a squeezin’ the life out en ’em; so I told Josey to stop by a big tree, and then I took the axe (for I hadn’t nothin’ else with me), and run up to help the dogs. By the time I got up to him he’d laid one of ’em cold, and had t’other in a purty fair way. I let drive at his head; but he up with one paw and knocked the axe out of my hand about ten steps. This kinder staggered me, so I felt down like; and the next thing I know’d, the “bar” was a top o’ me. I tusselled with him as hard as I could, you may be sure; but it warn’t of much use. He squeezed me tighter and tighter, and I begun to think it was all over with me, and my little Josey screeching like mad, when up came my ole man, and cut the bar’s wozzen from ear to ear. He’d hearn the noise the dogs and little Josey made, and knowin’ there must be somethin’ more than common, he’d run out. As soon as the “bar” was dead, he bust out into a loud laugh, and, said he, “You’re a purty woman to be caught out here in the woods huggin’ a bar, ain’t you?” But poor old Rome! we couldn’t fetch him to life any more. The bar had crushed all the bones in his body. I recollect another shindy I had when attending the traps. It was some time arter the “bar” scrape. Just afore I got in sight of a trap, I hearn Turk, what had trotted ahead of me, a makin’ a dreadful queer kind of a whinin’ noise. I ses, ses I, to myself, there must be something wrong with Turk; so I hurried up as fast as I could. And, shure enough there was too. The biggest eagle I ever hearn tell on was a standin’ with one claw fast in the trap and t’other clamp up around Turk’s nose so fast that he couldn’t no more open his mouth than he could a whistled if it had been open. There he stood, with all his legs poked for’ard, a yankin’ back, and a makin’ all the noise he possibly could. I hunted up a stick, and, after a heap of trouble, I got the life manted out of it; but even then it wouldn’t let go its hold on Turk’s nose, nor could I get him loose till I’d took my knife and cut its claw off. Turk was always shy of eagles from that time.

“‘I never was frightened much by any of the backwoods varmint but once, and then I was but a young gal. Tom Ennis had gone up to Louisville with a load of skins, and it was so far he couldn’t make it back the same day; so Sally (that was Tom’s wife) she got me to go over to their cabin and stay with her all night for company. Sally had a young baby that weren’t very well, so it kept up such a crying that we couldn’t sleep for it. I recollect we had the bed made up on the floor. In the middle of the night we hearn somethin’ about on the boards of the roof, a scrapin’ and scratchin’ as if a tryin’ to get in. The moon was shinin’ atween the boards, and by the light of it we soon seed, whatever the thing might be, that it had got the board slipt aside enough so it could poke a great heavy paw down. Well, it worked on like a trooper, and directly we saw a big whiskery-lookin’ head, poked through, and two fiery eyes a glarin’ down at us. A little longer, and the hole was big enough to admit its body, and in he bounced on to the floor of the cabin, the biggest kind of an old he-panther. You’d better believe there was a couple of folks scart enough then, for we knowed the cries of the baby had attracted its attention, and it had come on purpose to make a meal out’n some of us. We covered up our heads, and laid there with our hearts a thumping. The panther sat down by the side of our bed, and wriggled his tail a bit, and then he begun to pat us gently with his paws, as if he wanted to play afore eatin’ us, like a cat does with a mouse when she ain’t very hungry. Just then, Sally, who was so scart that she didn’t know what she was at, gave a loud scream, and flirted the blanket right off’n us on to the panther. The movement, being so sudden and so unlooked for, gave the varmint a dreadful scare, and up through the hole he went, like a kite. That was the last we saw or heerd of him, and you may be sartain we were satisfied.’”

The ex-sergeant promised to relate more of his adventures on his way to and from the gold diggings on a future occasion. But the corporal with whom he deserted having frequently written to him since he was taken, at last purchased his discharge, and started him in business at Sheffield; so we saw no more of him after he left the regiment.

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