As the glass circulated, the Lieutenant amused us in his own dry way with
some early recollections of service; and knowing that the Major had been
quartered in the Emerald Isle in "Ninety-eight," I pressed him to give us
some memento of that eventful period. "Come F----, spin us a yarn, as our
topmen used to say round the galley-fire, during the night-watch," added
the Lieutenant.
"Now you mention ninety-eight," he replied, "I remember a 'beautiful bit
of a story,' as Pat would say, which occurred that autumn; its hero was a
brother officer, a particular friend of mine--it may serve to keep you
awake."
Here it is:
Lieutenant Smyth had entered the army only a few months, when his regiment
was suddenly ordered to march from very pleasant quarters in Devonshire to
the north-west of Ireland. The change at any time would have been
unpleasant, but the service they were entering upon was particularly
irksome and jarring to the feelings. Grumbling, in a military man, is,
however, downright folly, and they soon made themselves tolerably at home
in their new quarters.
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