Tales from Blackwood Volume Ii Part 11

My correspondence that morning was not of the legal kind. In the first place, I received a circular from the commanding-officer, extremely laudatory of the recruits, whose zeal for the service did them so much credit. We were called upon, in an animated address, to maintain the high character of the regiment--to prove ourselves worthy successors of those who had ridden and fought before us--to turn out regularly and punctually to the field, and to keep our accoutrements in order. Next came a more laconic and pithy epistle from the adjutant, announcing the hours of drill, and the different arrangements for the week; and finally, a communication from the convener of the mess committee.

To all these I cordially a.s.sented, and having nothing better to do, bethought me of a visit to the Bogles. I pictured to myself the surprise of Edith on beholding me in my novel character.

"She shall see," thought I, "that years of dissipation in a barrack or guardroom are not necessary to qualify a high-minded legal pract.i.tioner for a.s.suming his place in the ranks of the defenders of his country. She shall own that native valour is an impulse, not a science. She shall confess that the volunteer who becomes a soldier, simply because the commonwealth requires it, is actuated by a higher motive than the regular, with his prospects of pay and of promotion. What was Karl Theodore Korner, author of the Lyre and Sword, but a simple Saxon yeoman? and yet is there any name, Blucher's not excepted, which stirs the military heart of Germany more thrillingly than his? And, upon my honour, even as a matter of taste, I infinitely prefer this blue uniform to the more dashing scarlet. It is true they might have given us tails to the jacket," continued I soliloquising, as a young vagabond who pa.s.sed, hazarded a contumelious remark regarding the symmetry of my nether person. "But, on the whole, it is a manly and a simple garb, and Edith cannot be such a fool as not to appreciate the motives which have led me to a.s.sume it."

So saying, I rung the Bogles' bell. Edith was in the drawing-room, and there also, to my no small mortification, was Lieutenant Roper. They were sitting together on the sofa, and I rather thought Miss Bogle started as I came in.

"Goodness gracious! Mr M'Whirter," cried she with a giggle--Edith never looked well when she giggled--"What _have_ you been doing with yourself?"

"I am not aware, Miss Bogle, that there is anything very extraordinary"----

"O dear, no! I beg your pardon for laughing, but really you look so funny! I have been so used, you know, to see you in a black coat, that the contrast is rather odd. Pray forgive my ignorance, Mr M'Whirter, but what _is_ that dress?"

"The uniform of the Mid-Lothian Yeomanry Cavalry, madam. We are going into quarters next week."

"How very nice! Do you know it is one of the prettiest jackets I ever saw? Don't you think so, Mr Roper?"

"Veway much so," replied Roper, reconnoitring me calmly through his eyegla.s.s. "A veway handsome turn-out indeed. 'Pon my honour, I had no idea they got up things so cleverly in the fencibles"----

"Yeomanry, if you please, Lieutenant Roper!"

"Ah, yes! Yeomanry--so it is. I say, M'Whirter, 'pon my soul, do you know, you look quite killing! Do, like a good fellow, just march to the corner of the room, and let us have a look at you on the other side."

"Oh do, Mr M'Whirter!" supplicated, or rather supplemented Edith.

I felt as if I could have shot him.

"You'll excuse me, Roper, for not going through drill just now. If you like to come to the review, you shall see how our regiment can behave.

At any rate, we shall be happy to see you at mess."

"Oh suttingly, suttingly! Veway good things those yeomanry messes.

Always a deal of claret, I believe."

"And pray, Mr M'Whirter, what rank do you hold in that distinguished corps?" asked Edith.

"A full private, Miss Bogle."

"Goodness gracious!--then you're not even an officer!"

"A private of the yeomanry, Miss Bogle, is, let me inform you, totally independent of rank. We enrol ourselves for patriotism, not for pay. We are as honourable a body as the Archers of the Scots Guard, the Cavaliers of Dundee, or the Mousquetaires"----

"How romantic and nice! I declare, you are quite a D'Artagnan!" said Edith, who had just read the _Trois Mousquetaires_.

"Don't they pay you?" said Roper. "'Pon my honour that's too bad. If I were you I'd memorialise the Horse Guards. By the way, M'Whirter, what sort of a charger have you got?"

"Why, to say the truth," replied I, hesitatingly, "I am not furnished with a horse as yet. I am just going to look out for one at some of the livery stables."

"My dear friend," said Roper, with augmented interest, "I strongly recommend you to do nothing of the kind. These fellows will, to a dead certainty, sell you some sort of a brute that is either touched in the wind or dead lame; and I can tell you it is no joke to be spilt in a charge of cavalry."

I felt a sort of sickening sensation as I recalled the lines of Schiller--

"Young Piccolomini, known by his plume And his long hair, gave signal for the trenches; Himself leapt first, the regiment all plunged after.

His charger, by a halbert gored, reared up, Flung him with violence off, and over him The horses, now no longer to be curbed"----

The fate of Max might be mine, and Edith might be left, a mournful Thekla, to perform a moonlight pilgrimage to my grave in the solitary churchyard of Portobello!

"Do you really think so, Roper?" said I.

"Think so! I know it," replied the dragoon. "Never while you live trust yourself to the tender mercies of a livery stable. It's a wegular maxim in the army. Pray, are you a good rider?"

"Pretty--fairish--tolerable. That is, I _can_ ride."

"Ah! I see--want of practice merely--eh?"

"Just so."

"Well, then, it's a lucky thing that I've seen you. I have just the sort of animal you want--a wegular-bred horse, sound as a roach, quiet as a lamb, and quite up to the cavalry movements. Masaniello will suit your weight to an ounce, and you shall have him for seventy guineas."

"That's a very long price, Roper!"

"For Masaniello? I a.s.sure you he's as cheap as dirt. I would not sell him for twice the sum: only, you see, we are limited in our number, and my father insists upon my keeping other two which he bred himself. If you like to enter Masaniello for the races, I'll insure your winning the cup."

"Oh do, Mr M'Whirter, take Mr Roper's advice!" said Edith. "Masaniello is such a pretty creature, and so quiet! And then, after the week is over, you know you can come and ride with us."

"Won't you take sixty, Roper?"

"Not a penny less than seventy," replied the dragoon.

"Well, then, I shall take him at that Pounds?"

"Guineas. Call down to-morrow forenoon at Piershill, and you shall have delivery. Now, Miss Bogle, what do you say to a canter on the sands?"

I took my leave rather satisfied than otherwise with the transaction.

Edith evidently took a warm interest in my welfare, and her suggestion as to future expeditions was quite enchanting. Seventy guineas, to be sure, was a deal of money, but then it was something to be a.s.sured of safety for life and limb. On the street I encountered Anthony Whaup.

"Well, old fellow," quoth Anthony, "how are you getting on? Pounding away at drill, eh?"

"Not yet."

"Faith, you had better look sharp about it, then. I've been down twice at Canonmills of a morning, and I can tell you the facings are no joke.

Have you got a horse yet?"

"Yes; a regular dragoon charger--and you?"

"A beast from Wordsworth. He's been out regularly with the squadron for the last ten years; so it is to be presumed he knows the manoeuvres.

If not, I'm a spilt yeoman!"

"I say, Anthony--can you ride?"